Chapter 264: A Tyrant’s Tears

Chapter 264: A Tyrant’s Tears

[Lavinia’s POV — Imperial Chambers—Later]

The warmth of Papa’s chamber felt almost foreign after the void. I slumped against his broad shoulder, letting my small frame sink into the comfort I hadn’t realized I craved. My hand rested on Marshi’s head—he was asleep on my lap, his breaths shallow and even. Everyone else had left, leaving the two of us alone.

Just Papa and me.

I lifted my eyes, hesitant, voice barely a whisper. "Were you... scared, Papa?"

For a moment, there was silence. The kind that stretched and pulled at the edges of the room, heavy with unspoken words. His hand moved slowly to brush back a strand of hair from my face.

"Scared?" he said softly, voice low and roughened with the memory. "Any father would be. Seeing his child... locking herself away in a void... not knowing if she’d ever come back. Any father would be scared, Lavinia."

I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. My voice trembled as I ventured further, "And... what about the previous life? The one before this one?"

He flinched, a sharp, almost physical reaction, like I’d stabbed him straight through the heart. His breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, I saw him as just a man... vulnerable, broken. Then, a thin, haunted smile formed at the edges of his lips—pain etched into every line of his face.

"I... I died," he whispered, voice cracking. "Every day... with you. Every single day, Lavinia."

I couldn’t speak. My throat tightened, my chest aching as if the void itself had taken residence inside me. Tears began to slip unbidden down my cheeks.

"I..." My voice faltered, heavy with grief and guilt, breaking under the weight of everything I had felt, everything I had lost. "When I... when I found the truth... Papa... I felt like... my world shattered. I felt everything was a lie."

His hand cupped my cheek, warm and steady. His thumb brushed lightly over my tears, and the room felt impossibly still—save for the tremor of raw emotion lingering between us.

"Lavinia..." he said softly, each syllable heavy. "My world... it shattered too. The last life... every moment I saw you... lying there... cold, silent... gone... I died with you. But..." His voice trembled now, thick with unspoken remorse. "I... I suppose... it was all... my fault. I should’ve never separated you from me."

I pressed closer into him, sobbing quietly, letting myself feel the weight of every lost second, every stolen moment, every pain we had endured across lifetimes. His arms wrapped around me, tighter than ever, and I realized that no matter how much anguish had been carved into our souls, this—this moment—was ours alone.

"I..." I whispered again, my broken voice trembling with both love and grief. "I don’t know how to... forgive you, Papa... but I... I can’t hate you. Even after everything."

My tears soaked into his chest as I pressed closer, my small hands clutching his tunic like I could anchor myself to him, to reality, to the one constant I had ever known.

He bent his head slightly, brushing a trembling hand over my hair, feeling the damp strands stick to his fingers. His voice was rough, almost strangled with emotion, yet steady with conviction.

"I think... I should be glad, my child. Glad that you... are not hating me. Because losing you... again... losing you would have been... nothing but death. A death I could never survive."

I hiccuped, shivering as his hand patted my head over and over, soft and grounding, a rhythm I could cling to. Every pat was a promise. Every touch a lifeline.

I couldn’t; I simply couldn’t hate him. Never.

The room felt impossibly small—suffocating in the best way—but at the same time, impossibly infinite, as if the world itself had shrunk to just this moment. My tears soaked into the fabric of his tunic, his steady heartbeat beneath my forehead the only rhythm I needed to believe in again.

He tightened his arms around me, his chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths, whispering against the top of my head, "You’re here... you’re here with me. And as long as you are... I can endure anything, my daughter. Anything."

I pressed closer, letting the weight of my fear, my pain, and my anger spill into him, into the one person who had always carried it all silently.

"Papa... I..." My voice cracked, choked with sobs. "I was so scared... so lonely... but... I never stopped... missing you in that Void."

His lips trembled, and I felt warm tears fall, soaking the top of my hair. I clung to him tighter, shivering against his chest, wanting to never let go.

And then... PLOP! Something wet fell onto my head.

I blinked up at him—and froze.

Papa. Was crying.

This... this was the first time I had ever seen my tyrant of a father cry. My lips trembled, disbelief and awe colliding. "Papa... why...?"

He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, his voice hoarse but steady. "Thank you... for not leaving my side, my child... even after all this. You... you are everything I have."

My lips wobbled. "But... why are you crying? A tyrant should never cry!"

He blinked at me, flatly. "Am I... crying?"

I nodded. "Yes... and... and YOU LOOK SO UGLY WHEN YOU DO!!!!"

Marshi, who had been sleeping in my lap, gasped. Papa froze, staring at me like I had just insulted the very foundations of the empire. Then... with terrifying swiftness, he flicked my head.

"Ow... what?" I rubbed my forehead.

"You almost burst my eardrums... just like her."

. . .

. . .

"Her?" I blinked, wiping my own tears while trying to wipe his at the same time. "Papa... are you talking about Mother?"

He scoffed, the tyrant returning in a flicker of his old composure. "Of course. Who else?"

A smirk crept onto my lips, mischievous and teasing. "Papa... if you want my complete forgiveness... why don’t you tell me... you and Mother’s story?"

He froze, staring at me flatly, a dark eyebrow arched. "As if... I would reveal the secrets of the mighty Emperor Cassius to a child of mine. Impossible."

I squeezed his hand, leaning closer. "Oh... c’mon, Papa... please! Mama told me that you and she always used to fight... and yet... you never killed her even when she yelled at you."

His eyes darkened, his lips twisting into the faintest shadow of a smirk as he muttered, almost to himself, "I wonder... why I didn’t do that?"

I blinked, waiting for him to continue.

"And don’t get any ideas, little one," he added, his voice snapping back into tyrant mode, dark and commanding. "I still could have. It’s a miracle of patience... or perhaps... because some idiots are... annoyingly persistent."

I couldn’t help it—I giggled, softly at first, then louder. "Some idiots... persistent? That’s your way of saying you... liked her?"

He froze. My laughter echoed against his chest. Then, with a grumble like a caged beast, he muttered, "Liked her? I... hated

I leaned closer, eyes wide with curiosity. "Yet what, Papa?"

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face, still trembling from tears, still impossibly tyrannical. "And yet... I suppose... she was the only one foolish enough... to drive me completely insane... and survive. That... is why you exist."

I burst into laughter, pressing my forehead to his chest again, shaking with the sheer mix of relief, amusement, and love. "So... I’m the result of your insanity?"

He growled, voice rough but playful. "Yes. And do not forget it. You are the legacy of the Emperor’s brilliance—and madness."

I smiled through tears, and for the first time, I realized that I could love him fully—not despite his tyranny, but because even in all his darkness, his heart had always been mine.

But I still wonder... how Mother had me and handled Papa... just as a mere chambermaid.

***

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

Grandpa Thalein knelt by my bedside, green light shimmering faintly around his hands as he checked my pulse. I blinked, taking in the quiet room. Sera, Marshi, Solena, Grandpa, and my brothers were all here, their eyes full of relief and curiosity.

But... Osric? Where was he? Why hadn’t he come to see me?

I was about to ask when Grandpa let out a soft sigh.

"I guessed right..." he murmured.

I blinked, puzzled. "What... what do you mean?"

He smiled faintly, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "Your mother... has passed her elven powers to you, my child."

I stared at him, heart skipping. "You mean...?"

"Yes," Grandpa continued, the green light dancing like fireflies across the room. "You now possess... your mother’s healing powers, Lavinia."

My eyes widened so fast I thought they might pop out of my head. "Healing powers... me? Really? I... I can heal?"

Grandpa chuckled softly, the kind of sound that carried warmth and reassurance. "It’s not strong...but yes. You do, my precious."

The room felt a little brighter, a little warmer, as if the very air was whispering that everything... might just be okay.

I took a deep breath and whispered, almost to myself, "I... I possess healing powers..."

And for the first time, it didn’t feel scary.

It felt... like destiny.