Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 379

Chapter 379: My Daughter
[Emperor’s Chamber—The Day of the Wedding—Emperor Cassius Pov]

Dawn arrived without asking permission.

Pale light slipped through the tall windows, brushing the silk curtains in hues of pearl and gold, as though even the sun wished to bear witness to this day. The imperial palace was already awake—servants moving like disciplined shadows through marble corridors, footsteps softened, voices hushed, and excitement wrapped carefully in obedience.

And every single sound grated on my nerves.

Everything about this day pissed me off.

I stood by the window, staring at the sky, jaw tight.

Strange… truly strange how a man branded a tyrant by history—a man whose life revolved around killing before he could be killed—a man who had never expected warmth, mercy, or attachment—Found life in a child.

I was never meant to protect anything.

I was forged between blood and wine, raised in suspicion, and tempered by betrayal. I learned early that love was a weakness and attachment a death sentence. I thought I would rule, drown in blood, and die alone—and the Line of Devereux would end with me.

Until she came.

Abandoned in a quiet wing of the palace. Neglected by maids who feared her lineage more than they pitied her cries. So small. So still…my daughter Lavinia Devereux.

She was like a blessing by that cruel god…an apology from them to me.

She didn’t cry when I first held her. She simply looked at me. Wide eyes. Calm. Assessing—as if I were the curious thing.

She watched executions as if they were games. Laughed at the clang of armor. Tugged at my cloak with tiny fingers stained by ink and crumbs. She intrigued me with every breath she took.

I did not realize when she became a part of my life.

I only realized one day that she was my life.

She grew quietly beside me—like a morning sun I never asked for, yet somehow needed. Warm. Soft-breathed. And endlessly chaotic.

She talked too much. Asked too many questions. Rolled across my bed without permission. Curled into my arms during council sessions as if the empire could wait.

And somehow—somehow—every word she spoke chipped away at the tyrant I was.

For her, I learned patience. For her, I learned restraint. For her, I learned what it meant to hesitate before ordering death.

My court became bearable only because she was there. My chambers became warm because she filled them with noise. My hands—once stained permanently with blood—learned how to hold something fragile.

My child taught me how to be human.

I never intended to be one. I chose it only for her.

And now—Now she is standing at the edge of a new life, her hand reaching for someone else’s.

Someone worthy, yes. Someone devoted, perhaps.

But still—It pisses me off.

The thought of her no longer running through my halls. Of another man hearing her laughter first. Of another chest becoming her refuge.

I clenched my fist against the glass.

I ruled an empire without fear. I broke kingdoms without regret. Yet today—Today, I stand defeated by a wedding. Not because I am losing power. But because I am losing the only thing that ever softened me.

And God help the man who hurts her, because even as a father—I am still a tyrant.

“I should have banned love and marriage ages ago,” I muttered, fingers curling into a tight fist at my side.

The thought had barely settled when—KNOCK. KNOCK.

The sound echoed too loudly in my chamber.

“Come in,” I said, voice sharp, iron slipping back into place.

The doors opened and Ravick stepped inside, bowing low. “Your Majesty… the princess wishes to see you.”

I turned slowly.

“She said she wants you to be the first person to see her in her bridal attire.”

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“…She said that?” My voice came out quieter than I intended.

Ravick nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

I stared at him, the weight of those words settling somewhere deep in my chest.

“So…” I murmured, almost to myself, “…I am still her first choice.”

A rare smile touched Ravick’s lips. “No matter what today brings, Your Majesty, you will always be her first priority.”

I allowed myself a faint smile—brief, restrained, and dangerous in its softness. Ravick straightened and added gently, “And you must also realize… she is not leaving your side.”

I glanced at him sharply. “She’s marrying. That is leaving.”

Ravick chuckled under his breath. “With respect, Your Majesty… she is only extending her world. Not abandoning it. she will still remain here and will follow your path.”

I exhaled slowly.

“I still don’t like her getting married.”

Ravick’s smile widened. “That much is painfully obvious.”

I turned toward the door, my cloak settling over my shoulders as I strode forward.”Enough talk,” I said, already walking. “If my girl is waiting, then the empire can wait too.”

The marble corridor stretched before me, long and gleaming, lined with banners and watchful guards. Servants froze as I passed. Whispers died instantly.

The tyrant was walking.

But for once, I was not walking toward war. I was walking toward my daughter.

The child who once fit in the crook of my arm. The girl who had stolen warmth from a man who knew only blood. The woman who still, even now, chose me first.

“Move,” I ordered softly.

The doors ahead were opened without hesitation. And as I stepped closer to where she waited, one truth rang louder than any vow spoken today—She may be getting married.

But she is still mine.

And she always will be my one and only precious child of mine.

***

[Later—The Bridal Chamber]

The doors opened.

And for the first time in decades—I forgot how to breathe.

She stood there beneath the falling light of crystal chandeliers, framed by silk and gold, as though the world itself had paused to admire her. The room was hushed, attendants frozen in place, fear and awe mingling in equal measure.

But I saw none of them.

I only saw her.

Lavinia.

My child.

Her hair—golden, rich, luminous—fell in soft waves down her back, catching the light like spun sunlight. Every strand looked as if it had been kissed by dawn itself. The bridal crown rested gently upon her head, delicate yet regal, as though it had been waiting its entire existence just for her.

And her eyes—Crimson.

Not sharp. Not cold.

But deep. Steady. Burning with quiet fire.

Eyes that once watched executions without fear. Eyes that had looked up at me from my arms, curious and unafraid. Eyes that now held grace, strength, and a future she had chosen.

She turned.

And smiled at me.

“Papa,” she said softly.

That single word struck harder than any blade ever had. I took a step forward before I realized I was moving.

Then another.

Slow. Careful. As if she might disappear if I approached too quickly.

“You…” My voice failed me. I cleared my throat, fury at myself flickering briefly before dissolving. “…You look…”

Like a princess.

No.

Like an empress the world wasn’t ready for.

Like the child who had grown into something too beautiful, too powerful, and too precious to give away.

I reached out, hesitated, then cupped her face with a hand that had once signed death warrants without trembling.

“…You look…” I paused, gaze steady, expression severe. “…terrible, Lavinia.”

For a heartbeat, she simply stared at me—wide-eyed, utterly dumbfounded.

“Gosh,” she said at last, disbelief dripping from every syllable, “I can’t believe you’re my papa.”

I chuckled, the sound low and rare, and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

“My daughter,” I said calmly, “is the prettiest bride the empire has ever seen.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile, eyes glistening just enough to betray her. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me without hesitation.

“I love you so much, Papa.”

My arms came around her at once, firm and sure, patting her back with a familiarity that no crown could erase.

“I love you more than anyone in this world, my child,” I said quietly. “More than that stupid captain you’re marrying.”

She laughed against my chest. “I know that.”

Then she pulled back just enough to look up at me, crimson eyes warm, steady, and unwavering. “No one in this world will ever compare to your love, Papa.”

I nodded once.

My hands trembled.

I hated that they did. But if my daughter wished for marriage—then so be it. I would endure it. I would accept it. Because she was not leaving my side.

She was only extending our family.

“Your Majesty,” Ravick said gently from behind us, “it’s time.”

I inhaled slowly.

“Let’s go,” I said.

I offered my arm.

She placed her hand upon it without hesitation.

And together, we stepped forward—father and daughter—into a future I had not planned for, but one I would still rule with blood, steel… and love.