Chapter 106: Beneath the Velvet and Vows

Chapter 106: Beneath the Velvet and Vows [Lavinia’s POV—The Royal study room] After the wildly successful mission where I launched my AdorabombTM at Papa and reduced the royal dining room to a puddle of feelings and glitter, I naively believed that everything would go back to normal. You know—sunshine, pastries, and occasionally spending time and playing with Osric. But alas... I was wrong. So very, royally, epically WRONG. Because ever since that day, Papa had initiated a new operation. Let’s call it: "Mission: Keep My Daughter Away from That Devilishly Handsome Boy Named Osric." It began subtly. Like today. There I was, walking through the royal courtyard with the bounce of someone about to meet her dearest friend Osric and chat about everything from morning chaos to the tragedy of my daily homework quota. But just as I was about to cross the hallway to the west wing— POOF! Out popped Theon. With his Eternal EyebagsTM. "GAAHHHH!" I screeched, clutching Marshi like a fluffy shield. From the hedges, a bunch of hidden knights leapt down from the sky like overly dramatic ninja pigeons. "Stay back, Princess!" one of them barked, nearly tripping over a rose bush. My head popped out from behind Marshi’s fluff. And there he was—Theon, the living embodiment of stress. He stared at me like someone who had witnessed the fall of empires and still had ten unread scrolls to file. "Your Highness," he said flatly. "His Majesty has summoned you." I slapped my chest dramatically. "Theon! Can you not appear like a cursed ghost for one second?!" He sighed like a man who’d sold his soul for a paycheck. "Your father dumps all his paperwork on me and doesn’t even allow time for basic human respiration. Do you think I qualify as a normal human anymore?" "Then PROTEST!" A dangerous glint sparked in his tired eyes. "But... he pays me triple my usual salary." ... ... ... I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. There were no words in the ancient tongue of mortals for the betrayal I felt in that moment. "You—you greedy little quill rat." He smiled with all the soullessness of someone too rich to care. "So, Princess, shall we go? His Majesty has summoned you." Again. AGAIN. I blinked. "Right now?" "Yes, Princess," Theon replied with the solemnity of a funeral bell. My eyes drifted longingly toward the training grounds—where Osric probably stood, blissfully unaware, sword swinging in slow motion like a battle-hardened ballet dancer under the sun. His hair likely glistened. His jaw probably clenched. Somewhere, I was sure, birds were chirping an Osric-only soundtrack. "But I—" I tried, clinging to hope like a desperate side character in a tragic romance. Theon, of course, didn’t blink. "The Emperor insists." Cue: dramatic violin screech in my mental background score. Let me just say—this wasn’t a one-time thing. Oh no. This had officially become my new cursed royal routine. Every. Single. Time. I tried to see Osric. "His Majesty has summoned you." "The Emperor requests your presence."" The Grand Tyrant demands to crush your romantic aspirations with an iron boot." (Okay, that last one was just the vibe.) At first, I was innocent. Naive. "Wow! What a coincidence! Papa sure is clingy today!" But after the sixth suspiciously timed interruption? I KNEW. Papa wasn’t summoning me because of royal matters. Oh no. He was strategically sabotaging my social life. "I see what you’re doing, soon-to-be old man," I whispered to the sky one evening, clutching my pillow. "You’re making sure...I distance myself from my only friend, Osric." Because if I couldn’t even casually wave at a handsome boy in the hallway, then what about my future? MY LOVE LIFE?! What happens when I actually fall in love? When do I want to get married? Will Papa lock me in the tower like some overdramatic fairytale father and challenge my suitor to a duel? Suddenly the visions of my future changed. No slow-dancing at midnight under enchanted chandeliers. No heartfelt letters scented with lavender. No accidental hand brushes during tea. Just— Single. Forever. Like my past life. At this rate, Papa and I would grow old together—both broody, both stubborn, and both forever alone. Royal Bachelor & Daughter Edition. Then.... "Shall we begin, Princess?" I blinked out of my dramatic spiral and looked up. There she was—Teacher Levelyn—in her signature lavender robes and the calm patience of someone who had definitely taught royalty long enough to survive a hundred tantrums and at least three assassination attempts. Right. Royal classroom. Not my diary. I nodded, adjusting my royal butt on the plush velvet chair, and nodded, "Sure." She smiled. "So... last time, we studied the Eastern Region." I perked up. "Yes! We studied about how the eastern nobles eat spicy stew for breakfast and believe horses can sense lies." Levelyn chuckled. "And do you remember what the Eastern Region is famous for?" "Um... silk, tea, and highly suspicious ponies?" I offered. "Correct," she said, though she was clearly holding back laughter. Honestly, I still hadn’t recovered from that story she told—apparently, in one eastern province, a noble’s marriage proposal was once rejected because the horse looked uncomfortable during the engagement ceremony. Lies, betrayal, and one deeply judgmental stallion. I guess... I was right. My people are way more dramatic than me. I’m not even in the top ten, and that’s honestly kind of insulting. "Today," Teacher Levelyn said, smoothing out her robe with that poised grace she always carried, "I’ll let you decide, Princess. Would you like to study the Northern Region or the Southern?" "Northern Region," I answered immediately. Too fast. My mouth moved before my brain even caught up. Even Marshi raised his head in quiet judgment. Teacher Levelyn tilted her head. "May I ask why, Princess? Is it because of the snow foxes?" "Well... fifty percent, yes." "And the other fifty?" I held her gaze and replied, "Because Osric’s mother is from there, isn’t she, Teacher?" That stopped her. Just for a second, her posture stiffened. Her eyes darted away. The quill she held stilled in her hand. Then she blinked and gave a tight smile. "You’ve been doing your reading." "I’m observant," I said. "And curious." Then, she straightened her shoulders. "Alright," she said quietly. "Let’s cover the Northern Region today." Victory? Perhaps. I offered a small smile and she begin, "The northern provinces are surrounded by thick forests and snow-covered plains. Winters stretch forever, and summers last maybe... two days, if they’re lucky." I gasped. "How do they survive?" "With grit. And soup. Lots of soup." "Makes sense." "They’re ruled less by nobility and more by old clan alliances," she continued. "Each family holds its own power. Bloodlines are sacred. Honor is a currency. Insults last for generations—sometimes longer than people." "Sounds intense." "It is. That’s why they worship the god Kharvon, the Iron Wolf." I sat up straighter. "Iron Wolf? That sounds extremely metal." Levelyn raised a brow. "That’s because he is. Quite literally. According to legend, he was forged from the last star before it fell from the sky. He governs strength, survival, and silent endurance." I squinted. "So basically, he’s the god of not whining." "Precisely." I leaned back, sighing dramatically. "I could never make it in the North. I complain if my bathwater is a degree too cold." "You’d last three hours," she said without blinking. "Bold of you to assume I’d even get past the city gates." That earned another quiet chuckle from her. "Each region has its own deity, Princess. It’s how culture, customs, and politics evolved across the empire." I tilted my head. "Wait... does that mean we have one too?" She nodded. "We do. Eltheris, the Swan Queen." I blinked. "Oh." "Eltheris governs clarity, grace, and justice. She’s said to bless those who carry the burden of ruling," Teacher Levelyn said gently. "Wow..." I whispered. And for a fleeting second, I actually felt... holy. Like I should wear white. Or float. Now I suddenly wanted to visit a temple. Light a candle. Whisper a prayer. Maybe do a small, dignified twirl. But then reality smacked me in the face—specifically, the reality shaped like Papa. He’d never let me go. "No temples," he’d say. "Too many stairs. Too many people. Too many chances to trip and fall into danger or a vat of sacred oil." And honestly... the VAT part was probably fair. So, yeah—no temples for me. "Hah... figures," I muttered under my breath. Teacher Levelyn didn’t hear. She was back to her scroll. "Currently, Lord Theron Aeryth governs the North under the command of His Majesty Emperor Cassius," she said. I nodded, soaking in the knowledge. And then the thought struck me. "Then..." I started slowly, "which clan does Osric’s mother belong to?" "The oldest," she said simply. "And the ruling one. Clan Aeryth." I blinked. "As in... that Aeryth?" "Yes, Princess." So she meant that Osric’s mother... was basically the ruler’s daughter? From the ancient, snowy, fox-blessed, elbow-deep-in-soup, honor-obsessed ruling family of the North? I stared at Teacher Levelyn, my brain short-circuiting. This felt... illegal. She should’ve mentioned it at least in one paragraph in the novel, why wasn’t she ever mentioned? "Then..." I leaned forward, my voice low, "Where is she now? Did she... did she die?" There was a beat of silence. A flicker passed over Teacher Levelyn’s face. Not sadness exactly—something heavier. And then she smiled. Soft. Measured. "No, Princess," she said, her voice quiet. "She is alive." I blinked. "Alive?" I repeated. "Well, then... why haven’t I ever seen her?" I asked. "Because," she said, her tone shifting ever so slightly, "she abandoned Lord Osric when he was only two years old." Everything in me froze. I didn’t even blink. "What?!!" I said, my voice barely a whisper. My eyes widened, heartbeat thumping in my ears. Osric... had been abandoned? "Princess," Teacher Levelyn said softly, "we should continue—" But I didn’t answer. Because in that moment, I wasn’t just Lavinia Devereux of the Elorian Empire. I was a girl who just found out her best friend had been left behind. And the world would never look quite the same again.