When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Papa.
He was sitting beside my bed, wearing a cozy robe the color of red apples. His long golden hair looked a little ssy, like he had been sitting there for a long ti. His red eyes stared at quietly, and when he noticed I was awake, he leaned a little closer.
"You’re awake?" he said in that deep, rumbly voice of his.
I nodded, still sleepy, and rubbed my eyes. Everything felt warm and soft and nice. Without thinking too much, I climbed out from under the blankets and hugged him tightly.
Papa slled like fresh winter air and sothing like cinnamon.
"Happy birthday, Papa," I mumbled against his chest.
I heard him laugh a little, low and soft, before he kissed the top of my head.
"Happy birthday to you too, dear," he said.
I pulled back and looked up at him. Papa was smiling — not the scary smile he gave other people, but the real one he only showed .
"So, you’re four now," he said, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear.
I grinned so big my cheeks hurt and held up all my fingers. "Yes! Four!" I said proudly.
Papa chuckled and patted my head. His big hand was heavy, but it made feel special.
"I see. Growing up fast, aren’t you?" he said.
"Mhm!" I bobbed my head up and down. I puffed up my chest like a brave knight. "Soon I’ll be big and scary like you!"
Papa raised one eyebrow, and it made him look funny. "Scary?"
"Yep!" I said, nodding very seriously. "I’ll stomp my foot, and everyone will run away screaming, ’Oh no! The Princess is mad!’" I threw my arms in the air to show how dramatic it would be.
Papa made a weird sound, like he was trying not to laugh. He coughed into his hand and gave a look. "Is that so?"
"Yes!" I said happily. "And if they don’t listen, I’ll make them sit outside in the cold for five hours! Just like you!"
Papa blinked. "...Who told you that?"
"I heard it!" I said proudly. "Sir Ravick said, ’The Emperor is scarier than winter itself!’" I wiggled two fingers in the air. "So I’ll be scarier than TWO winters!"
Papa stared at like I had grown another head. Then he sighed — a big, dramatic sigh like adults always do when they’re pretending they’re not proud.
"I see, my dear daughter wants to be like . How unusual," he said with a smirk tugging at his lips. "I fear for the Empire’s future."
Hmph! What’s so bad about growing up like him, anyway? Sure, he’s a tyrant — but he’s our tyrant! I didn’t think anyone else could handle the Empire the way Papa did. He was the best emperor... and the best papa.
Grown-ups were really weird sotis.
I leaned against his chest, squishing my cheek into his warm robe. "I wanna grow up just like you, Papa. You’re my idol," I mumbled sleepily. "And you’re really, really good at being scary too."
That finally made Papa laugh — a real, proper laugh that rumbled from his chest and made giggle too.
Waaaah~~ Look at him! He looked so handso when he laughed... Too bad he always said he wanted to stay single forever.
Now, if I didn’t protect him, who would?
He patted my head again, his palm big and warm.
"Here I thought I was raising a sweet, gentle little princess," he teased, resting his chin lightly on my head.
"I am gentle!" I huffed, poking his chest with my tiny finger. "Gentle to people I like! Scary to people I don’t!"
Papa chuckled and ruffled my hair until it stuck up in every direction like a fluffy bird’s nest.
I didn’t mind. I just hugged him tighter. Today was our birthday. And nothing — nothing — made happier than celebrating it with Papa.
Every year, Papa made sure my birthday felt special. Even though we shared the sa birthday, he always acted like it was my day more than his. He’d cancel important etings, scold ministers who dared to ntion work, and spend the whole day with like I was the most important person in the empire.
(Which, to be fair, I kind of am.)
Not just Papa — the whole Empire celebrated our birthday. The cities sparkled with decorations, flowers rained from the skies through floating magic, and sweets were handed out like water. It was like a festival every year, just for the two of us.
But this year... this year was different.
Because today, at the grand celebration, my elven grandfather would be attending for the first ti.
Not just him—more elves too. Real elves! Tall, graceful, glowy, and mysterious. The ones people whispered about, saying they never left their hidden forests. The ones who once stayed away from human kingdoms for centuries.
But today, the world would know the truth.
That I was a quarter-elf.
And that Papa had ford a new alliance between our empire and the ancient Kingdom of Nivale — the land of elves, mist, and moonlight.
After my bloodline was revealed, everything changed. Instead of being a tyrant, Papa took my hand and stood tall before the nobles and foreign envoys. He declared the truth with pride in his eyes.
And then... he invited the elves to the capital.
Now, the Empire and the Nivale Kingdom were no longer strangers. They signed a special treaty — one that allowed elven scholars to enter the Empire freely and let our mages study ancient elven magic. In return, the Empire would provide military aid if the Nivale borders were ever threatened and open trade routes through the western forests.
It was a big deal. Like, adults-talking-seriously-and-scribbling-on-scrolls kind of big.
Papa called it "a bridge between old blood and new." I called it "super cool."
I may only be four years old, but even I knew this birthday wasn’t just about cake and presents anymore.
It was about unity.
It was about family.
It was about showing the whole world that being a little different... could be sothing more powerful. Now our empire would beco the strongest with the help of the elves.
(As if Papa wasn’t already scary enough. Now we had magic and elves on our side. Good luck to anyone who even thought about ssing with us!)
And ?
Well... my grandpa — my elven grandpa — turned out to be very over-protective.
Like, really over-protective.
If Papa was like a scary dragon guarding his treasure, Grandpa was like so ancient forest guardian who thought every breeze was a threat to his precious flower.
(Guess who the flower is? . I’m the flower.)
He visited the palace a lot now — officially for "diplomatic relations," but unofficially to glare at anyone who got closer than two feet.
Especially poor Osric.
Now, Osric wasn’t just so random playmate of mine. He was Osric Regis — Grand Duke Regis’s only son. The boy who would soday beco the Grand Duke himself. The boy who, in the original story, was supposed to grow up handso, strong, and, uh... a little tragically heroic.
Also, the boy destined to betray one day. (Dun dun dun~~~)
(I should probably stay away... but then who would I boss around? Sigh. Being a tragic villainess in a novel can be exhausting.)
But right now?
He was just a ten-year-old boy who had grown a little cold and serious, trying very hard to be a proper little gentleman.
And Grandpa hated it.
Not Osric himself, I guess — but the idea of Osric breathing too close to .
Every ti Grandpa saw Osric and playing together in the garden, he’d appear out of nowhere like so ancient doom spirit. It was like the whole garden dropped five degrees whenever Grandpa appeared.
And poor Osric — he would flinch so hard he nearly tumbled down the stone path.
Nearly.
Because no matter how many heart attacks Grandpa tried to give him, Osric still stood tall.
The boy had grown brave for real.
He didn’t cower, even when Grandpa’s glare could’ve turned a stone statue to dust. If anything, Osric puffed out his little chest even more and flashed his brightest, most determined smile.
"Your Excellency, it’s a fine day, isn’t it?" he’d say, like he didn’t even feel the terrifying weight of Grandpa’s stare burning holes into him.
It was like Osric was saying, without actually saying it: "Princess Lavinia is my friend, and you can’t stop us from eting."
And ?
I thought it was absolutely hilarious.
Sigh. Grown-ups are so weird.
But honestly, having a scary Papa and a terrifying Grandpa made feel... kind of invincible.
Like I could do anything.
And maybe — just maybe — they were right to be so protective.
After all, I was the Empire’s Little Princess. The bridge between old blood and new. The living proof that humans and elves could be stronger together.
And today... the whole Empire would see it.
Reviews
All reviews (0)