Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 372

Chapter 372: The Princess and her Captain
[Imperial Palace—Lavinia’s POV — Lavinia’s Chamber]

I slumped onto my bed like a defeated cat, limbs sprawled dramatically, staring at the ceiling.

“I think…” I began.

Sera glanced at me while lovingly patting Marshi, who was purring like a satisfied king. I sighed heavily and finished, “…I don’t have any marriage fate in my life.”

Sera hummed thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t agree with you, Your Highness—but unfortunately, I’m forced to.” She scratched Marshi under the chin. “Whenever love or marriage enters your life, chaos follows immediately.”

I groaned and rolled onto my side, yanking the blanket over my head. “Ugh… people are very, very wrong. Beautiful women don’t get men easily.”

I poked my head out dramatically. “We get more trouble instead.”

Sera laughed softly. And then—”Your Highness?”

That voice.

I peeked out again and waved lazily. “Hi there, Haldor.”

He blinked—clearly unprepared for the sight of the crown princess wrapped like a cocoon on her own bed—and stepped closer. He stopped beside me, posture straight as ever.

“Your Highness…” he said carefully, “I thought you had finally abandoned your laziness habit.”

Sera snorted before she could stop herself.

I raised a brow, slowly sitting up. “I should be offended.” Then I leaned forward, squinting at him with a smirk. “But this is the first time I’ve seen you joke while not wearing that serious face.”

I nodded approvingly. “Very good. Very impressive.”

Then I flicked the blanket dramatically. “And for your information—I was born this way.”

He stared.

Processing.

I tilted my head, eyes narrowing playfully. “So?” I asked sweetly. “Now what? Are you going to step back from marrying me?”

His brain completely short-circuited. He blinked once. Twice. Color rushed straight to his ears. Then—slowly, softly—he smiled.

“I…” he said, voice warm and sincere, “I like the way you are, Your Highness.”

My heart did a very inconvenient little flip.

“Aww,” I teased, leaning closer. “You’re so cute, Haldor.”

He turned even redder.

Sera cleared her throat loudly. “Well—this is clearly my cue.” She scooped up Marshi, who gave a protesting little growl. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

She escaped quickly, the door shutting behind her.

Silence settled.

Not awkward.

Charged.

I patted the bed beside me. “Come. Sit.”

He flinched like I’d threatened him with execution.

“N–No, Your Highness!” he said quickly. “How can I sit on the Crown Princess’s bed? That is absolutely against knightly rules—”

“Haldor,” I cut in.

“Yes, Your Highness?” he replied instantly.

I smiled—slow, dangerous, amused.

“If you want to marry me,” I said calmly, “then you will either sit quietly…” I gestured toward the bed. “…or walk out that door.”

There was exactly half a second of internal war.

Then—He sat.

Immediately.

Perfect posture. Hands neatly placed. Eyes fixed forward like he was awaiting judgment. I covered my mouth, chuckling softly.

Oh. This man was absolutely hopeless and entirely mine to tease.

“Who would’ve thought,” I murmured, tilting my head as I studied him, “that one day I’d be the one turning you into my husband?”

He glanced at me then—really looked at me. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed.

Slowly, he lifted his hand, hesitating just enough to ask permission without words. When I didn’t stop him, he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, his knuckles brushing my temple with almost reverent care.

“And who would’ve thought,” he said quietly, voice low and sincere, “that a mere knight like me would dare to love a crown princess.”

I met his gaze—deep, steady, and frightening in its honesty, “But I’m not sure about my feelings yet, Haldor.”

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t retreat.

Instead, he smiled—small, calm, certain.

“I don’t mind, Your Highness,” he said. “Because I know one thing you will give me.”

I raised a brow. “And what is that?”

“Respect,” he answered without hesitation. “A marriage can survive without love… but never without respect.”

Something warm bloomed in my chest.

I reached up, cupping his cheek, my thumb brushing along his jaw. “Then I suppose,” I said gently, “you truly are my fated partner just as Rey said, because…I will do everything you deserve in this world haldor.”

His breath hitched.

And then—unexpectedly, endearingly—he leaned into my hand, eyes closing just a little, like a puppy seeking warmth.

“Can I…” he cleared his throat, clearly nervous now, “…can I kiss you, Your Highness?”

My eyes widened—just slightly, because this is the first time he has asked something bold. Every day with him is a surprise.

I smiled, “You may.”

That was all he needed.

He moved carefully—almost ceremoniously—setting aside his sword, slipping off his boots as if even the sound of them touching the floor might break the moment. Then he leaned over me, bracing himself just enough not to trap me, giving me every chance to pull away.

I was still wrapped in the blanket like a burrito, only my face free, my hair spilling messily over the pillow.

And then—His lips touched mine.

Soft.

Tentative.

Like a question.

The kiss was slow, almost reverent, as if he were afraid to rush something sacred. His lips lingered, warm and steady, testing the moment rather than claiming it. I felt his breath tremble against my mouth and felt the way his control frayed just a little.

I tilted my head instinctively, answering him.

That was when the kiss deepened. Not into hunger—but into need. A quiet, aching need that had been building for far too long.

His lips pressed more firmly now, not desperate, not reckless, but certain. One hand came up to cradle my cheek, his thumb brushing along my jaw as if memorizing me. The other rested beside my shoulder, fingers curling into the blanket, grounding himself.

The world narrowed.

No palace.

No titles.

No expectations.

Just warmth. Just closeness. Just the way my heartbeat matched his.

I felt him pause for the briefest moment—just enough to be sure I was still there with him—before he kissed me again, slower, deeper, as if sealing a promise neither of us had spoken aloud.

When he finally pulled back, it was only by a breath. Our foreheads rested together, his nose brushing mine, his eyes blue and shining with something dangerously sincere.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Because whatever had just begun between us was no longer something that could be undone.

But I had to admit—This side of him was far too dangerous.

He lay beside me, close but careful, as if even now he feared taking more space than he was allowed. I shifted, tugging the blanket so it covered him too, tucking it around his shoulders without thinking.

“If our fathers agree…” he asked quietly, voice lower than before, gentler, “…will you marry me immediately, Your Highness?”

I turned my head to face him, studying the way his eyes searched my face—not demanding, not hopeful in a childish way, but steady. Trusting.

“Yes,” I said simply. “I turn twenty-one next month, Haldor. In one year, I’ll become Empress.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “After that, I’ll be… very busy.”

His lips curved faintly, understanding already.

“So we’ll marry,” I continued softly. “But—” I glanced at him, a teasing glint slipping into my eyes. “Children will come a little later.”

The reaction was immediate.

He blushed—deeply, spectacularly—eyes dropping, shoulders stiffening as if he’d been caught utterly unprepared for happiness.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he said quickly, nodding like a soldier receiving sacred orders.

I laughed, unable to stop myself, and reached out, my fingers sliding into his hair without thought. He leaned into the touch at once—no hesitation, no walls—just warmth and trust, as if this was where he had always been meant to rest.

This man no longer felt like the captain who believed he deserved nothing.

He felt… safe.

“I’ll speak to Papa again tomorrow,” I murmured, my thumb tracing slow, absent circles near his temple. “I’ll make him agree.”

He smiled—soft but resolute, the kind of smile that did not bend easily. “Then I’ll speak to my father as well.”

I leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering a heartbeat longer than propriety allowed, long enough for the promise in it to settle.

“Let’s have a good life together, Haldor.”

He nodded.

Not with ambition.

Not with fear.

But with hope—quiet, luminous, and rare.

And just like that, without trumpets or declarations, the empire began to turn toward a future it did not yet realize it was welcoming. A future with a Crown Prince who did not seek power—but loyalty, steadiness, and the woman beside him.

That night, Haldor did not leave my chamber.

He did not ask.

I did not tell him to stay.

He simply remained—lying where he was, breathing slow and even, as if his body finally understood it was allowed to rest. I shifted the blankets around us without waking him, the palace quiet beyond the walls, the weight of the crown momentarily forgotten.

We did not notice when conversation faded. We did not notice when thought softened. We did not notice when sleep found us.

It came gently—like a vow whispered to the dark.

And beneath the same roof, beneath the same stars, two lives that had survived storms separately finally drifted into rest—side by side—unaware that when morning came, the world would never quite be the same again.