[Lavinia’s POV—Imperial Garden, After the Storm]
I finally spotted Papa.
There he was—slouching at the front row of the seating pavilion like he owned the world (which, frankly, he mostly did), sipping his wine as lazily as a lion sunbathing after a hunt. Seated beside him was none other than Grand Duke Regis—looking far too comfortable for soone who routinely drove Papa to the brink of a royal aneurysm.
"They look happy," I heard Grand Duke Regis say as I walked closer. "Surprisingly." He raised a brow at Papa, then added with that maddening smirk of his, "I thought he’d end up single and broody like you. But... guess I was wrong."
Papa’s death glare was so sharp it could’ve slashed mountains. He didn’t even bother with words—just stared at Regis like he was imagining 47 different ways to bury him beneath the palace.
But Grand Duke Regis?
Smiled.
Unbothered.
Amused.
And then he saw .
His eyes crinkled with sothing too close to affection, and I took the opportunity to plop myself down beside Papa, resting my head gently against his shoulder.
Papa turned, his gaze softening instantly.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice low and protective. "Did soone bother you...? Tell who. I’ll kill them."
Gods, I smiled.
There was nothing sweeter than his threats of murder—especially when they were for . His words were always sharp, tyrannical even... But when he spoke like this, I felt nothing but safe. Like nothing in the world could ever hurt so long as he was beside .
Grand Duke Regis watched the scene unfold with an exaggerated sigh.
"Ugh... I wish I had a daughter too," he muttered under his breath, wistful. "Look at you two... It’s disgusting."
Papa didn’t miss a beat. He smirked, slow and smug, and looked at Regis like he was a beggar outside the temple gates.
"Not everyone receives blessings, Regis. So of us are simply... chosen."
Regis twitched. His jaw locked for a second before he forced a diplomatic breath and said smoothly, "So what? Who knows—"
Then he turned to .
That smirk returned.
And he said it.
"—I might get a daughter-in-law."
I blinked.
Papa stiffened beside .
There was a mont of silence so sharp it could’ve sliced through the imperial banner.
And then—
"I should ban all upcoming marriages," Papa declared, glaring at Regis like he’d just insulted our entire bloodline. "Imdiately. No courtships. No proposals. Nothing."
I sighed softly.
There he goes again...
I leaned into his side anyway. As absurd and dramatic as he could be, there was a strange comfort in the chaos. Like a storm that only ever raged to keep safe.
But even so... my mind drifted.
To her.
Elaenia.
Sothing about her still buzzed in the back of my mind like a splinter I couldn’t shake loose. Why? Why did Count Talvan adopt her? And more importantly... why wasn’t it ever announced?
I turned my head slightly and murmured, "Papa..."
He glanced at . "Hmm?"
"Did you know Count Talvan had an adopted daughter?"
His glass stopped mid-air.
Grand Duke Regis, too, turned to stare.
"...Adopted daughter?" Papa asked, brows lifting.
I nodded slowly. "Yes. I t her just now. Sirella introduced her to . Said her na is Elaenia Talvan."
Grand Duke Regis frowned. "Talvan? Adopted soone? Since when?"
They looked at each other—two of the most inford, dangerous, and powerful n in the empire—and both wore the sa expression.
Genuine surprise.
"Did you receive any information?" Papa asked.
"No," Regis said after a pause, shaking his head. "No, we never received any such information. Not through the court. Not through the inforrs. Not even a whisper."
Papa’s eyes narrowed. "We’ve always known Talvan had one daughter. Just one."
"Exactly," Regis agreed. "And even if he didn’t want to announce it to the court, there should have at least been... sothing. A letter. A ceremony. Even a rumor. But there’s nothing."
Papa’s eyes slid across the pavilion—sharp and calculating—until they landed on Count Talvan. The man was deep in discussion with Theon and Teacher Evelyn, completely unaware of the firestorm forming behind his back.
"Find out what happened," Papa said darkly.
Regis nodded once. "I will."
I followed Papa’s gaze to Count Talvan, but my thoughts weren’t on him anymore.
They were on her.
Elaenia.
The girl no one saw coming.
There are answers hidden behind her smile—answers that not even the Imperial inforrs can uncover. Secrets no record will reveal.
Because this wasn’t sothing written.
This wasn’t political.
This was personal.
And if I want to find the truth about Elaenia Velcorin...
I have to leave the palace.
I have to step outside the walls built to protect —and dig into a past that no one else dares to touch.
Because fate has already started shifting.
And I need to know why.
...And that’s how Theon’s wedding ended.
Dramatic.
Chaotic.
And crowned with a surprise appearance that felt... far too tid to be chance.
I glanced across the garden. Elaenia was still standing there—her gaze fixed on Osric, cheeks tinged with pink, lips curled into the faintest smile.
It wasn’t just admiration.
It was... familiarity.
Recognition.
Like she’d seen him before. Like she’d waited for this mont. And suddenly, it didn’t feel like fate had played a new card.
It felt like soone had stacked the entire deck.
Deliberately.
Intentionally.
No... this wasn’t a coincidence.
This felt like a move.
A deliberate one.
And I hate being part of a ga no one asked to play. A ga where they’ve already written my ending without my permission.
Because I’m not the original Lavinia, and I’m not going to end up like her anymore.
I may be lazy. I may have sworn to sit back and let the plot unfold on its own.
But not anymore.
Not after receiving all this love—from Papa, from Nanny, Osric, and others, even from that annoying Caelum and our divine Marshi.
The story has changed, and this ti I will make sure to change my drastic end too because I’ve gotten greedy.
And I’m not letting anyone walk away from .
Nor am I planning to go quietly into soone else’s story.
***
[Three Months Later—Lavinia’s POV]
I turned fifteen.
This year’s birthday passed just as grandly as one would expect for the Imperial Princess. Trumpets. Cheers. Velvet cakes stacked to the sky. Nobles lining up to bow like dominoes.
Papa, naturally, outdid himself again.
He gifted several hills.
Yes. Actual hills.
Said they were brimming with diamonds under the soil. I didn’t even blink—just smiled sweetly, because what else does one do when their father casually makes them the richest unemployed person in the empire?
Grandfather Thaelein, not to be outdone, sent magical gifts so potent the palace mages nearly passed out trying to classify them.
It was all wonderful. Loud. Glittering.
But none of it really stayed in my mind.
What stayed with was the report from the royal inforrs. The one that made sothing cold settle beneath all the birthday sweetness.
According to them... Count Talvan found Elaenia being bullied by village children. She was wounded. Frightened. Helpless. He stepped in. He saved her. He healed her.
And then—he adopted her.
Just like that.
A powerful, calculating man—one of the empire’s most ruthless minds—took in a trembling orphan girl.
They say she was traumatized. That she begged him not to reveal her identity until she felt strong enough to face society again. She needed ti. Space. Healing.
That’s how she ended up beside Sirella.
That’s the story they all accepted. It spread like silk in the wind—neatly woven, soft to the touch.
The whole empire believed it.
And yet...
Sothing about it makes my skin crawl.
Too perfect.
Too convenient.
Too... pre-written.
Like it ca from a novelist’s pen. Not real life.
"Princess?"
I blinked. In the mirror’s reflection, Marella stood behind , combing my hair with practiced grace. Her hands paused gently at the strands, waiting.
"...What are you thinking so deeply about?" she asked softly.
I stared at her for a long mont. Then I turned slightly on my seat.
"Marella."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
I tilted my head, eyes narrowing slightly. My voice was calm. Low. Dangerous in its softness.
"What if one day, soone enters your life—soone with a pretty smile and a tragic backstory—and slowly tries to snatch away everything you’ve earned? The love. The status. The peace. Makes you look vicious. Greedy. Selfish. Even when all you did was exist."
Her hand froze completely now.
She t my eyes in the mirror.
"Did... sothing happen, Princess?"
I didn’t blink.
"Just answer the question, Marella."
She hesitated—then said quietly, "I would feel angry, Your Highness. And perhaps... I would feel like punishing her. For daring to touch what was mine."
I smiled. It didn’t reach my eyes.
"Exactly."
It’s not about jealousy.
It’s not even about suspicion.
It’s about knowing when sothing is off. When sothing is manipulated. And right now, everything about Elaenia Valcorin’s story feels like it was written for applause.
Too clean.
Too heroic.
Too conveniently tid.
I leaned back slightly in my chair, letting Marella resu brushing. My voice, quiet but sharp, cut the silence like glass.
"If I want to keep what’s mine, I need to uncover the truth—before it finds first."
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