Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 376

Chapter 376: The Crown Princess and her Prince
[Lavinia’s POV — Imperial Palace—Announcement Day—Morning]

The palace woke like a beast stretching its limbs.

Bells rang in measured intervals. Silk banners unfurled from balconies. Courtiers moved with sharpened smiles and rehearsed reverence, every step reminding me that today was not merely ceremonial.

Today was a declaration.

Sera fastened the last clasp at my collar, her hands careful, her eyes bright with a mix of excitement and nerves.

“The court has gathered early, Nobles from every province. Envoys too,” she mumbled.

“Of course they did,” I replied lightly. “They never miss a chance to measure power.”

She smiled, then hesitated. “And… the Crown Prince?”

I met my reflection in the mirror.

Gold-threaded black robes. The sigil of Devereux at my shoulder. A crown not yet worn—but already heavy in expectation.

“He’ll be ready,” I said with quiet certainty. “And he is ready.”

Marshi stirred near the window, tail flicking once as if in agreement. I reached down, brushing my fingers through his fur, “Guard the room. Just in case any noble lady pops in.”

He huffed, clearly offended that I would even suggest he wouldn’t. Outside, the corridors hummed—too smooth, too eager. This was the kind of day where danger smiled politely and bowed low.

A knock sounded.

“Your Highness,” a guard announced, voice formal. “The Great Hall awaits.”

I exhaled once.

“Then let’s not keep history waiting.”

As I stepped into the corridor, the palace seemed to lean closer, as if listening. Somewhere beyond these walls, the enemies would be watching. Somewhere else, my grandfather, Papa and brothers would be sharpening their judgments. And somewhere—being dressed, instructed, surrounded by ambition—Haldor was preparing to walk into the light.

I straightened my spine and began to walk, because by the end of this day, the empire would learn two truths:

Who would stand beside its future empress?

And what happened to those who dared to test her?

***

[Later—Imperial Palace—Hallway]

As I walked toward the Great Hall, my crimson gown flowed behind me like a living thing—rich silk catching the light, petals of red blooming with every step. For one blissful moment, I thought,

This is it. Grace. Power. A perfect entrance.

Until—”My precious!!!”

I froze.

Slowly. Tragically.

I turned.

A portal shimmered open mid-corridor, spilling moonlight and far too much drama into the palace—and out stepped Grandpa Thalein, arms already wide, eyes shining with betrayal and theatrical despair. Behind him followed Brother Soren and Brother Lysandre, both wearing identical expressions of doom, like judges arriving at an execution they disapproved of.

“Oh no…” I whispered.

Too late.

Grandpa Thalein crossed the distance in a heartbeat and hugged me—tight, fierce, emotional, elven-strength hugged me.

My face smashed into embroidered robes.

My hair was crushed.

My makeup—

RIP. MY. MAKEUP.RIP. MY. HAIR.

Sera gasped sharply behind me, clutching her chest like she’d just witnessed a war crime. Her hands curled into fists, trembling with barely restrained violence.

“WHY,” Grandpa wailed, rocking me slightly, “WHY are you betraying me like this?!”

“Grandpa—” I tried, muffled somewhere in his shoulder. “You’re—spoiling—my—dress—”

He gasped and pulled back just enough to stare at me in absolute offense, “Is that important right now, my precious?! More important than your precious adorable grandpa?”

I blinked. “Well… yes. It’s my special day—”

He threw his hands into the air dramatically. “DON’T SAY ANYTHING ELSE. My heart will shatter.”

I sighed.

Ah. So this is where my drama comes from.

“I thought hearts usually break,” Sera muttered under her breath, eyes narrowed. “Not… shatter.”

Brother Soren snapped his head toward her. “Ours is crushed,” he declared solemnly. “Broken is far too small a word for what we feel right now.”

He turned to me, eyes glistening. “Our dearest sister—whom we raised, protected, and glared at men for—has betrayed us by bringing another man into her life.”

“Brother Soren,” I said slowly, “you too?”

“I AM WITH HIM TOO,” he thundered, pointing dramatically at Grandpa. “Lavi, step away from this madness. Marrying a man is nothing but suicidal.”

Lysandre nodded gravely. “Tragic. Fatal. Avoidable.”

I stared at Soren, incredulous.

“I thought you were a man too.”

He waved the thought away dismissively. “Yes. But we are exceptional.”

Lysandre added helpfully, “Statistical anomalies.”

Grandpa Thalein clasped my face in his hands, eyes misty. “We left you alone for one empire and this is what happens?”

I gently removed his hands before Sera actually committed treason.

“I’m not betraying anyone,” I said patiently. “I’m just getting married.”

Three elves inhaled sharply.

Soren clutched his chest.

“She said it again.”

Lysandre whispered, “Say goodbye to our peace.”

Grandpa Thalein pointed accusingly down the hallway, “Is he handsome at least?”

“…Yes.”

“Kind?”

“Yes.”

“Loyal?”

“Yes.”

“…Does he fear you appropriately?”

I smiled sweetly. “Terrified.”

They exchanged looks. Soren sighed. “At least she chose well.”

Grandpa Thalein sniffed, folding his arms with all the dignity of an offended ancient being. “I still don’t like it. I hate him more than that idiot Osric.”

I smoothed my gown, straightened my spine, and smiled at them—soft, dangerous, unmistakably Devereux.

“Good,” I said sweetly. “Because if you did… I’d worry.”

I turned on my heel and started toward the Great Hall. Behind me, three elves immediately descended into chaos.

“WAIT—LAVI—HOLD ON,” Brother Soren barked, rushing after me. “I’m telling you to stop. Marriage sucks. You don’t have to get dirty with it.”

I didn’t slow down, “I want the Devereux line to flow, Brother.”

“You can just adopt,” Brother Lysandre cut in smoothly, appearing at my other side.

“I don’t want to be a single mother,” I replied flatly.

They all froze.

Grandpa Thalein stared at me like I’d personally offended the stars, “I still don’t understand how that idiot Cassius agreed to this.”

I smiled without turning back, “Because I blackmailed him.”

Silence.

Then—”WE KNEW IT!!!”

All three shouted in perfect unison. I chuckled, the sound light and lethal, as the towering golden doors of the ballroom swung open with a resounding BOOM.

Trumpets rang.

The herald’s voice echoed through the hall, proud and thunderous—

“CROWN PRINCESS LAVINIA DEVEREUX—WITH THE ELVEN HIGH LORD THALEIN ELARIONDIL WITH LYSANDRE AND SOREN ELARIONDIL—HAS ARRIVED.”

Light spilled across the marble floor. Hundreds of nobles turned. Whispers ignited like wildfire.

I stepped forward, chin lifted, crimson gown blazing like a challenge.

Behind me, Grandpa Thalein muttered darkly, “If this ends badly, I’m cursing the concept of marriage.”

Soren cracked his knuckles. “I’m glaring at the groom.”

Lysandre sighed, “I’m judging everyone.”

I smiled.

Let them.

Because tonight, the empire wasn’t just witnessing an announcement—It was watching a tyrant crown princess claim her future.

I walked between the nobles, every step echoing softly against marble that had carried Devereux rulers for generations. Whispers followed me like shadows. Curious. Appraising. Afraid.

This was it.

The last walk as a single princess in imperial balls.

At the raised stage ahead, Papa stood with his arms crossed, expression dark enough to frighten lesser men into repentance. He looked like a storm contained in imperial robes—broody, possessive, and very clearly unhappy about sharing his daughter with anyone breathing.

And beside him—Haldor. Straight-backed. Nervous. Radiant. Not in armor. Not as my captain. But as a man about to stand beside me before the entire empire.

He looked… devastatingly handsome.

Sera leaned in from behind me, voice barely above a whisper, “He looks too good.”

I smirked, “Yes. You did an excellent job sending only the most trusted maids to prepare him.”

She lifted her chin proudly, “I supervised personally.”

Behind me, Grandpa Thalein narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp and ancient.”So,” he muttered, “that’s the man.”

Lysandre glanced at him sideways.

“The one who’s shining too much?” he added mildly.

“And looks far too handsome?” Soren replied darkly.

Grandpa sniffed. “Hmph.”

Then, reluctantly—very reluctantly— “He does look… presentable.”

Lysandre gasped softly.”Uncle,” he whispered dramatically, “you’re praising him.”

Grandpa sighed as if the world had betrayed him, “I hate this night.”

I reached the steps. Haldor stepped forward immediately, as if drawn by instinct rather than ceremony. His hand found mine—warm, steady, and grounding.

“Princess…” he said softly.

Before anyone could object, he lifted my hand and pressed a reverent kiss to the back of my fingers saying, “Greetings…my princess.”

The temperature in the room dropped.

Papa’s glare sharpened into something lethal. Grandpa’s eyes flashed. Soren and Lysandre both leaned forward like predators spotting prey.

Haldor felt it.

I saw it in the brief stiffening of his shoulders.

So I smiled and leaned closer.

“Welcome to the family, Haldor,” I said lightly—sweet enough to soothe, dangerous enough to warn.

His breath hitched. Then he looked at me—not the empire, not the glares, not the weight of a thousand eyes—but me.

He blushed, just a little, and smiled with quiet sincerity, “I guess I have to brace myself… Princess.”

Papa groaned under his breath, “I should’ve banned marriage.”

Grandpa muttered something: “Is this what it feels like losing a battle?”

And I?

I lifted my chin, fingers tightening around Haldor’s hand.

Because from tonight, I won’t be walking alone anymore, and the empire will watch the Crown Princess and her Prince.