A whole year.
I survived a whole freaking year in this royal palace. Not just survived—thrived.
I, Lavinia Devereux, the supposed neglected villainess-to-be, flipped the script so hard I probably gave fate whiplash.
I was supposed to be ignored, tossed aside, and forgotten by everyone. Especially by Papa. But guess what? Plot twist, universe!
The whole empire knows now. And more importantly—
I GOT ALL THE PAPA LOVE I DESERVED.
Sure, his face is always set to Tyrant Mode™, but actions speak louder than words, right?
And boy, did Papa’s actions scream adoration.
Exhibit A: He executed those maids for neglecting . Ruthless? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.
Exhibit B: He assigned a personal nanny. Handpicked by Papa himself. No less than the best for his precious little heir.
Exhibit C: A whole parade of guards? Just for ? Oh yes. I now have my own imperial security squad, ready to wage war at the slightest whimper.
Exhibit D: He declared a national holiday when I flipped over for the first ti, which was essentially handled by Theon. Despite my first-word blunder, he still declared a national holiday. Yup. People celebrated my blabbering-toungue-twirling skills.
Exhibit E: And the grandest display of all? Papa paraded around like I was Simba at that royal event, practically roaring, "Behold! My heir!"
Okay, that might’ve been a bit much, but hey—no one questioned who’s the princess around here.
So...
So...
WHY THE HECK IS EVERYTHING WEIRD TODAY?!
I gnawed furiously on my golden pacifier, eyes darting around the room like a tiny detective on high alert. The hall was decorated, sure. I am too beautiful, completely sure. Golden banners, fancy flowers, enough glittering candles to blind half the nobility.
But.
Where was the fanfare?
Where were the hundreds of nobles lining up to kiss my chubby little hand and pretend they adored ?
Where was the choir? The parade?
Why was this—this—so... quiet? It’s my freaking first birthday in this universe!
Where were the hordes of nobles groveling to gain favor with the imperial princess? The extravagant performances? The mountains of gifts?
And where—where—was the choir singing my praises in the background?!
Just a handful of high-ranking nobles. A few imperial council mbers. And so ladies, who were currently pretending not to eye the dessert table like starving hawks.
Marella.
I saw you glance at that chocolate mousse. Don’t lie to .
My chubby legs swung back and forth from Papa’s lap, my usual throne, as I took in the suspiciously low-key scene. His arm was steady and warm around , a constant source of comfort. But today...
Today, his grip felt... tighter.
Protective.
Almost like he was holding on just a little too tightly.
Hmm.
Suspicious. Very suspicious.
I narrowed my eyes, the seasoned drama queen in coming out full force.
I need answers.
I tilted my head up, giving Papa my best squint.
Interrogation mode: ON.
Papa’s expression was calm. Too calm. But sothing was... off. His crimson eyes—usually burning with that terrifying tyrant-y glow of "My Daughter is the Best in the World, Bow Before Her"—were... softer. Distant. Like he was thinking too much.
Thinking about what exactly?
Hmm.
I sucked on my pacifier harder, feeling my tiny baby brain shift into overdrive. The gears were grinding. The pieces were falling into place. And then.
Enter Grandpa Gregor and Grand Duke Regis with Osric, course.
"Happy birthday, Your Majesty," Grandpa Gregor said smoothly, his sharp eyes twinkling with sothing that made my internal alarms go DANGER. DANGER. ABORT MISSION.
I froze.
Did Grandpa Gregor do sothing?
My baby instincts scread at .
Hmmm... very suspicious.
And then—
Grandpa’s lips curled into that smile. That smile. The one that made want to hide under the nearest imperial carpet.
Plot incoming.
"I promised to give my little princess a birthday gift, didn’t I?" Grandpa Gregor’s voice was smooth as silk, but I wasn’t fooled.
Oh.
Ohhhhhh.
YES. YES. GIVE .
My ruby.
My precious ruby.
I wiggled. Once. Twice. Harder.
Gim, gim, gim!
"Ah. I see my princess hasn’t forgotten," Grandpa Gregor chuckled, his eyes twinkling even more dangerously.
I knew it. I was born for this mont.
Give back my ruby, old man! I earned that thing with blood, sweat, and adorable baby manipulation!
I wiggled harder, flailing my tiny arms for maximum effect.
"Ba! Ba!"
Translation: Where’s my loot, Grandpa?!
"Patience, little one," Grandpa murmured, reaching into his robes.
Yes. YES.
My ruby. I could already see it—gleaming red, my richies. But then—
He didn’t pull out my ruby.
Nope.
He pulled out... a scroll.
A scroll?!
Wait.
WHAT?!
I blinked. Once. Twice.
Where’s my shiny?!
"Here it is," Grandpa said with a smile that was way too satisfied.
My baby instincts scread TRAP. I squinted at the scroll like it was so ancient curse about to turn into a frog.
I don’t Like this. Nope. Not one bit. I asked for my ruby. My glorious, sparkling, future-world-dominating ruby. So why—why—was this old man holding out a dusty piece of paper like he was presenting with the crown jewels?!
Hmm.
I pursed my lips, suspicious as ever.
"Ba?"
Translation: What the heck is this, Grandpa?
Grandpa Gregor’s smile deepened, which imdiately sent my internal alarms blaring. "This, my dear princess," he said smoothly, "is sothing even more valuable than a ruby."
...
Pause.
Even more valuable than my ruby?
Impossible.
I blinked again.
Did I mishear that?
"Ba!" I demanded, pointing aggressively at the scroll.
Translation: Explain. Quickly.
Grandpa’s eyes twinkled, and his smile grew even more infuriating. "It’s a diamond and a ruby mine I give you as a gift."
...
WOWOWWWOW........
My chubby cheeks flushed with excitent as my tiny brain short-circuited.
Diamonds?
Rubies?!
My eyes sparkled brighter than the damn gems themselves. Grandpa is best.
I LOVE YOU, GRANDPA.
You’re the best!
I wiggled in Papa’s lap, giggling uncontrollably as I clutched the scroll that was bigger than my tiny hands. Visions of sparkly wealth and unimaginable power danced in my mind.
Forget villainess. I’m about to beco a mogul. I AM RICHHHHHHHHHH!
And then...
"Didn’t I tell you not to steal my baby? She is mine."
Huh?
Papa’s voice ca out dark and possessive, sending a chill down my spine.
Oho.
Here we go again.
Papa’s crimson eyes glinted dangerously, his arms tightening around as if soone were trying to snatch away. Grandpa Gregor, completely unbothered, smiled like he hadn’t just ignited World War III in the palace.
"It’s her birthday. You’re majesty. As her grandpa, I should give her sothing," Grandpa Gregor said smoothly, his smile dripping with grandfatherly innocence.
Pfft. Innocence, my ass.
Papa’s jaw clenched. "As I said before, her grandpa is—"
But Grandpa Gregor cut him off smoothly, raising an eyebrow. "I am still her grandpa, even though we do not share the sa blood."
...
Ohhhhh.
Grandpa knew how to Shush papa. Well, basically, he is the one who raised him. No one knew Papa better than him in this space.
But papa scoffed, his grip on tightening just a fraction.
I blinked.
Oh boy. Tension. TENSION.
Now, what is Papa going to say? He will definitely not sling his sword, I know. So, how is Papa going to sush his father-like person?
Papa’s crimson eyes narrowed, but then... his voice beca soft. He sighed. "Just take care of her and protect her if you want to be her grandpa."
Huh?
Protect ?
My tiny baby brain hit the pause button.
Grandpa Gregor’s smile softened, but there was sothing in his eyes—sothing serious. "Don’t worry, you’re majesty," he said softly, his gaze settling on like he was seeing more than just a giggling baby.
"She is the future of the Elarion Empire. I won’t let anyone harm her."
Uhh... what now?
"I will protect her with everything I have... when you’re gone."
...
WAIT.
...
WHAT?!
The scroll slipped from my hands, landing with a soft thud.
When he’s gone?!
When WHERE’S gone?!
My head snapped up, panic setting in. I stared at Papa, my wide eyes locking onto his face. "Pa..pa.."
Papa looked down at , his expression... Worried, And... annoyed.
Oh no.
OH NO.
"Pa...pa...," I whispered softly. What does Grandpa an?
Grandpa Gregor, as cool as ever, simply glanced at Papa’s irritated expression and smiled knowingly. "If you’re worried about her forgetting you," Grandpa Gregor murmured, "then solve the western province matter soon and co back."
...
WHAT?!
PAPA’S GOING TO THE WESTERN PROVINCES?! GRANDPA CONVINCED HIM?
My pacifier almost dropped from my mouth.
PAPA’S LEAVING?!
My little heart started pounding, my tiny hands gripping Papa’s sleeve.
"Pa...pa?"
Papa’s gaze softened as he looked down at , his stern expression cracking for just a mont. But I saw it.
Worry.
Fear.
And...
I don’t like it.
I blinked, my little chest tightening as a strange, uncomfortable feeling spread through . I was used to my tyrant-y Papa—I don’t want him to leave.
My tiny hands gripped his sleeves tighter. As if that could stop him. As if I could hold him here, not letting him go anywhere.
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