Chapter 270: The Emperor Melts (Literally)
[Cassius’s POV—After the Council Dismissal]
The door slammed shut with a thunderous echo.
Regis... that idiot. Always scheming to tie his son to me. If he hadn’t been blessed with a daughter of his own, that didn’t give him the right to snatch mine. Marriage. Between my daughter and his son. The least thing I ever wanted.
"Our kids love each other!!"
Love. That dangerous, infuriating, impossible word. My daughter was supposed to be my sweet little Lavinia—the girl who used to stomp around in frilly dresses demanding I buy her a sword "just like Papa’s."
Not someone’s future bride.
I groaned and sank into my chair, the weight of my crown pressing invisibly on my temples. The gilded ceiling above gleamed mockingly, its angels staring down as if to whisper, "Even kings cannot rule their hearts—or their daughters."
"But... he’s not wrong," I muttered grudgingly. "The Devereux bloodline must endure. If not Lavinia’s line, then whose? Sooner or later, some vulture with too much ambition and too little loyalty will seize the throne—and burn every legacy our ancestors bled for."
A cautious knock interrupted my thoughts. "Your Majesty?"
I growled. "Come in."
Ravick stepped inside, with Theon at his side. I didn’t even glance at them. "Ravick, if the next words out of your mouth contain ’marriage,’ ’love,’ or ’Everheart,’ I will personally promote you to the afterlife. Painlessly, if you’re lucky."
He stiffened. "Understood, Your Majesty."
Smart man. Pity more nobles weren’t like him.
I rubbed my temple, voice low and seething. "They all forget she’s my child before she’s their crown princess. My only blood. My only heir. And that fool Regis thinks he can drag her into his house like a prize mare in his stables? Marriage—hah!"
Theon stepped forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "If I may, Your Majesty... the Grand Duke’s proposal isn’t entirely unreasonable."
My glare snapped to him like a sword. "Are you volunteering to lose your head today, Theon?"
He coughed. "Merely stating the facts, Your Majesty."
I scoffed. "Facts, you say? Mischievous little facts, I hope."
Theon’s grin widened, dangerously playful. "Just imagine, Your Majesty... a little girl—your granddaughter, of course—running through the palace, bouncing on your legs, yelling, ’Grandpa!’"
I blinked, aghast. "What?!"
"Yes," he continued, with mock solemnity. "Just like the princess used to do."
For a moment, an image flickered behind my eyes—tiny feet pattering on marble floors, golden curls bouncing as a little girl leapt into my arms. My chest tightened unexpectedly. Then the image twisted.
. . .
. . .
"What if she looks like... Osric?" I muttered darkly.
Theon flinched slightly, then leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. "Even so... she’d still be Princess Lavinia’s daughter. And that would make you—" his grin returned, sly as sin, "—a man with more rights than Grand Duke Regis ever could dream of."
I sat back slowly, the tension in my jaw easing into something else—a dangerous amusement curling at the corner of my mouth.
Yes. My bloodline would continue. My legacy. I. Will. Have. More rights than that idiot.
I fixed Theon with a dangerous glare. "So... you’re suggesting I should agree to this marriage?"
Ravick stepped forward, voice calm and measured. "Yes, Your Majesty. The princess truly loves Lord Osric. And if her happiness aligns with the kingdom’s stability... perhaps it is wise to let both prosper."
Silence stretched, heavy and thick.
I leaned back, silent for a moment, imagining the scene Theon had painted: a tiny Lavinia-Osric hybrid bouncing around, my bloodline secured.
A slow, low chuckle escaped me.
"Perhaps," I murmured, almost to myself, "this marriage isn’t entirely... insufferable after all."
***
[Lavinia’s POV — Imperial Office — Same Time]
"...Do you think His Majesty will agree, Your Highness?"
Sera’s question broke the silence as she poured tea with her usual calm grace.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs, and smirked like a general who’d just sent her enemy into a hopeless ambush.
"Of course," I said smoothly. "I’ve already sent someone to manipulate Papa using his weakness."
Both Osric and Sera froze.
"...You what?" Osric asked, eyes wide. "You sent someone?"
"Yes," I said sweetly, flashing a grin that probably should’ve worried him.
"Who?" he pressed, stepping closer.
I turned my head slowly—dangerously slowly—and gave him a look sharp enough to decapitate a man.
"I’m not talking to you," I said coldly. "I’m still angry with you."
He flinched, hands flying up defensively. "Lavi—come on, you’re still upset about the whole ’I’d die for you’ thing?"
"YES," I snapped. "Because normal people say ’I’d live for you,’ not ’I’d die and make you emotionally unstable for eternity!’"
Sera choked on her tea. Osric just looked helpless. I huffed, turning away dramatically. He muttered under his breath, "You threw a chair at me..."
"I gently expressed my frustration," I said without missing a beat.
Sera coughed to hide her laugh. "So, uh, who did you send, Your Highness? And what weakness are we talking about exactly?"
My smirk returned—slow, dangerous, glorious. "I sent Theon."
Both of them blinked.
"...Theon?" Osric repeated slowly.
I glared at him. "I said, I am not talking to you."
He flinched and avoided my sharp gaze. Sera then Coughed asked, "So...why did you send lord Theon, your highness?"
"Because only he knows how to twist words," I said, steepling my fingers like a mastermind. "I told him exactly what to do. Let Papa imagine..." I paused for dramatic effect. "...Mini me.
"Silence.
Osric blinked. "Mini... you?"
Sera tilted her head. "I still don’t follow, Your Highness."
I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hands, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper."I told Theon to use the old typical Tactics."
"...The what?"
"Theon will tell Papa to imagine a future where my adorable daughter runs up to him shouting, ’Grandpa!’ and jumps into his arms. Papa melts when he imagines things like that. He can’t resist it. It’s like weaponized affection."
Sera’s jaw dropped slightly. "You... used emotional manipulation on the Emperor of Elarion."
"Yes," I said proudly. "With precision."
Osric, on the other hand, had turned red to the tips of his ears. His hand went to his face as he mumbled, "Mini, you...?"
I froze.Then turned slowly.
"What did you just say?"
"N-nothing," he stammered. "Just... uh... a little girl who looks like you—"
"Stop imagining it!" I snapped, cheeks warming. "I’m still angry at you, remember!?"
He immediately straightened, panicked. "R-right! No imagining, absolutely not imagining—"
Sera, now fully losing composure, pressed a hand over her mouth to hide her grin. "I must say, Your Highness, your methods are... effective."
I crossed my arms, glaring at Osric while muttering, "They’d better be. I’m plotting to secure our marriage and there’s someone out here saying self-sacrificial nonsense like a tragic romance hero."
Osric sighed. "I said I didn’t mean it literally..."
I ignored him, staring out the window like a dramatic heroine. "If Papa melts at the ’grandpa’ fantasy, we’re safe. If he doesn’t..." I paused, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "...then we may need to escalate to Operation ’Papa Holding Baby.’"
Sera dropped her teacup.Osric made a strangled noise. "WHAT OPERATION!?"
"Nothing!" I chirped innocently. "Just thinking ahead~"
Osric groaned into his hands. "I am both terrified and in awe of you."
"As you should be," I said, smugly sipping my tea. "Now hush. We wait for Theon to deliver the news of my victory."
Sera leaned over to Osric and whispered, "You know... she gets this from His Majesty, right?"
Osric muttered weakly, "That’s what scares me most."
I whipped my gaze toward him, eyes flashing daggers sharp enough to cut steel.
"Now listen carefully, Osric Valerious Everheart," I said, leaning forward like a general about to deliver a war briefing. "Papa’s going to test you. And not just a little test. Oh no. This... this test? It’s like walking barefoot through a pit of molten lava while reciting the entire history of Elarion from memory. Backwards."
Osric’s jaw dropped. "I... I will... definitely... make sure..." he stammered, attempting to summon courage. "...the Emperor accepts me as your... son-in-law."
I scoffed, "We’ll see that."