Chapter 26: Bound by Blood and Fate [Emperor’s Perspective]

Chapter 26: Bound by Blood and Fate [Emperor’s Perspective] Emperor’s Perspective : If she dies...My voice was barely above a whisper."...you die too." The priests and doctors trembled, bowing even lower as if the ground would swallow them. Cowards. I could feel the madness seeping into my bones, consuming me whole. No. I had already lost it. My grip on the sword tightened. Just one stroke. One stroke... and I could paint these walls with their blood. But then— A sound. Soft. Faint. "Wha...whaa...wahhh..." Her. Did she... wake up? The sword slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. I didn’t care. I threw it away. She woke up. I turned, my footsteps unnervingly slow as I approached her bed. When I reached her, her tiny eyes blinked up at me. Alive. She gasped again—just like yesterday—but this time... she didn’t look away. She looked at me like she recognized me. And... There was No fear. Why? Her small body didn’t tremble. Her lips didn’t quiver. Why aren’t you scared? Why don’t you cry like the others? Why... are you looking at me like that? Is it because... you’re my daughter? "Check on her," I ordered, my voice sharp, snapping the priest from his stupor. The useless fool scrambled forward, his hands trembling as he examined her. I... sat beside her. So small. So fragile. Yet... She’s here. Alive. Her expression... It’s different. Her tiny brow furrowed, her lips slightly parted—as if she’s trying to figure out the world around her. As if she understands. And... Why does she look at me as if she can see right through me? "Make sure they all get executed," I muttered, my tone as cold as ice. Theon, standing silently in the corner, gave a curt nod, "Yes, you’re majesty." But I didn’t look at him. My focus was on her. Her tiny chest rose and fell, her breathing still faint... but steady. She’s alive. That’s all that matters. I tried to reach for her, my hand hovering for a moment. Can I hold her? Will she... break? I’ve crushed countless men beneath my sword. My hands—they’re too large. Too dangerous. But... I wanted to hold her. I wanted to feel... how does she feel in my arms? I needed to. And so, I did, but—Why is she wriggling like a worm? I frowned, adjusting my grip. Am I doing something wrong? "Y-Your Majesty..." The priest’s trembling voice echoed behind me. "Please don’t hold the princess like that." What?! I snapped my head toward him, and the fool had the audacity to step closer. "Then how?" I growled, my voice laced with warning. But instead of cowering, he dared to guide my hands, adjusting my grip. I almost pushed him away— But then... She stopped moving. Her small body settled against me, her breathing steady. Comfortable. She... likes it. I stared at her, feeling something foreign gnawing at my chest. A strange softness seeped into the cracks of my heart, filling the void I had long forgotten existed. It was unsettling. This... was the first time I had ever felt it. But why? Why does this feel so... right? A small child—so fragile that she could break with just one wrong move from my hands—was giving me something I had never known before. Warmth. Peace. How? I had bathed in blood, stood atop mountains of corpses, and crushed empires beneath my feet, yet none of that had ever stirred anything inside me. But this tiny creature, barely strong enough to breathe, had managed to do what no one else could. Why? Why does her touch make my heart ache in a way that feels... unfamiliar? Unbearable. As if something was cracking inside me—something I had buried long ago. But I couldn’t let it show. Not now. Not ever. Yet... as she nestled closer, her small fingers grasping my robe as if I were her only safety in this cruel world. "Now what?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "P-Please feed her, Your Majesty," the priest stammered, bowing lower. "The princess is weak... She needs to be fed to gain strength." Feed her? Me? I blink, momentarily confused. But... I did it. I followed the priest’s instructions, and as I fed her, she latched onto the bottle with desperation, sucking as if she hadn’t been fed for days. Days. My jaw clenched. Those peasants. They dared to starve her. They dared to neglect her. They need to suffer more. I will make sure their screams echo through the dungeons until their last breath. But then... her eyes fluttered closed, her tiny body relaxing in my arms. Peaceful. Her small fingers brushed against my robe, then clenched the fabric again, as if she trusted me. But when I glanced around, I realized the wallshere reeks of blood, and the air stank of fear and death. This palace... It was a place where life withered, where innocence was crushed under the weight of power and cruelty. It’s hell. And in the middle of this hell, she slept—so small, so fragile. Her tiny chest rose and fell with each breath, her face peaceful, unaware of the darkness that surrounded her. Can someone so fragile... so innocent... survive here? No. My jaw clenched as the weight of that truth settled in. She couldn’t survive here. Not in this place. Not with me. She needed someone—someone who could give her warmth. Something I could never give. Love. I could protect her from threats, spill blood for her, burn the world if I had to—but I couldn’t give her the warmth that she needed to grow. But I knew... there’s only one person who can. "Nerina..." Yes. Her. "Theon," I called, my voice low but firm. "Summon Nerina. Tell her it’s urgent." Theon... hesitated. I knew why. "But, Your Majesty..." Theon’s voice was cautious. Nerina. The woman who had lost everything—her husband and child—swallowed by the flames of a merciless fire. Yet, despite her pain, she possessed a warmth that hadn’t been extinguished. Perhaps that’s why... I knew. There was no one better to care for her. And I was right. It’s been weeks since I appointed Nerina as her nanny, and just look at her now. Giggling. Wiggling in Nerina’s arms like she didn’t have a care in the world. So... carefree. So... innocent. It was... good. Too good. But this world doesn’t allow innocence to survive. Not here. Not in this palace where blood stains the walls and betrayal lingers in the air. She needs to know. I can’t let her grow up blind to the reality around her. She needs to realize what kind of world she’s living in. A world where weakness means death. And to survive in a hell like this... she has to be strong. "I’m taking her to the execution grounds," I said, my decision final. Her small gasp... Did she understand? Her tiny eyes widened, her little body tensed in my arms. She was too young to know, but... did she sense it? Theon, Nerina, and everyone else begged me not to take her. "It will traumatize her," they said. As if I didn’t know that. Do they think I’m a fool? I know what taking her to the execution grounds means. I know it’s cruel. But cruelty is the only truth in this world. And I’d rather she sees it now—**from my arms—** than experience it alone when it’s too late. She needs to see what her real home is. But I...hesitated. Could I really let her witness the brutality? Could I let her see heads roll on the ground, blood staining the dirt? But then... she made that expression. Those eyes. As if she was telling me—take me. Was I imagining things? Was I thinking too much? Maybe. But the way she stared at me, with that strange curiosity... I had no choice. That’s why I took her to the execution ground. I thought that seeing a barren, dead place like the execution ground would make her cry. Make her afraid. But instead, she looked at the blade like she had never seen such an interesting object in her life. The blade glinted under the scorching sun, and the scent of iron hung heavy in the air. Yet her gaze never wavered, eyes locked on the steel as though it held no power over her Is it because it’s shining? I couldn’t help but stare at her. This small child, who barely knew the world, was more fascinated than frightened. And then... they arrived. The ungrateful maids. The guards. Those who dared to neglect her, leaving her weak and starving. Now, they had the audacity to beg—to beg Lavinia—my daughter for mercy. Fools. Did they think a mere baby could spare them? But still... I looked at her. What expression would she make? And when I did... Calm. Her gaze was steady, her tiny lips pursed, her expression... as if she were saying, "You deserve it." Not a hint of fear. And then the first execution began. And her tiny eyes watched. She didn’t blink. The blade was about to fall. Blood was about to splatter across the ground. No. She can’t see this. That’s why I turned her toward me, shielding her small face from the horror. "That’s enough. We’re leaving." Everyone sighed in relief around me. But she protested. Her small hands pushed against me, her tiny body wriggling as if she wanted to see. She’s not scared. Why? Is it because... she’s my daughter? Yes. That’s right. She is my daughter. My blood. And my blood... can never be scared of anything. Not even death. I can already see it—my daughter will grow strong. So strong... that maybe, one day, she’ll be the one to drive a blade through my heart. Just as I did to my own father for this mere throne. That’s why... I can’t love her. I can’t show her affection. I can’t let her grow attached. Because if she loves me... it will hurt her to kill me. And she must not hesitate. If the day comes when she must claim the throne, she should do it without mercy. That’s what I decided. I shouldn’t love her. But... She broke the wall I built. She shattered it the day she cried—like the heavens were about to tear apart. Nerina tried to calm her, but Lavinia wouldn’t stop. Her tiny hands... wiggling. Reaching. Towards me? I thought she was sick. I summoned every healer in the empire, desperate to find a cure. But then... "Your Majesty," Nerina’s voice was hesitant. "I think the princess... wants you." What? No. Impossible. She wants me? Nerina must be wrong. She has to be. But then... her tiny hands wouldn’t stop, reaching toward me. Wiggling, trembling, as if she was calling me. Calling me? I didn’t want to believe it. But I... I held her. I hoped—prayed—that Nerina was wrong. But the moment she was in my arms... Silence. Like she had never cried. Calm. She... just wanted me? Not Nerina? Not Marella? Not Theon? Just me? And in that moment...When her tiny arms clung to me, her face pressed against my chest... It felt like she was declaring to the world— I am her father. And she had... accepted me. That’s right. I am her father. Even if... one day, she drives a blade through my heart... I will die happily for her. For my daughter. Until then...I will love her. Protect her, with everything I have. If anyone dares to touch her... I will kill them. Right there. On the spot. No matter who they are. No matter how high their status. Even if they’re a noble. If anyone dares to lay a finger on my daughter— They will die. And that day... I became my daughter’s only family. Her father. But I also wanted the world to see who she was. To know... who they should bow to. That’s right. This empire... needs to bow before my daughter. They need to respect her. And on the day of her introduction ceremony, I showed the world my daughter. My heir. The future ruler. My daughter—Lavinia Devereux. I wanted to show the world how adorable my baby is. Especially to him, Grand Duke Regis... the one I grew up with...the one who is standing in between the crowd. See..I have a baby too. That bastard, always blabbered on about his son, Osric. How Osric crawled toward him for the first time. How he took his first steps with his tiny toes. How he called him "Daddy" for the first time. Whenever Regis spoke of these things... I was annoyed. I wish I could raise my sword at him. But all I could say was..."Nonsense." But now, deep down...I wanted to experience that too. I wanted to see Lavinia’s first steps. I wanted to hear her first words. I wanted her to call me— "Daddy, Papa, Father..." Whatever she preferred... I wanted to be the first. But that damn assassin maid...She stole that moment from me. First, she dared to try to assassinate my daughter... Then, Lavinia’s first walk was not out of joy—It was out of fear. I wanted to see her first walk. I had trained her every morning how to walk and that... got on my nerves. I wanted to kill everyone who stood in my way. How dare they...Steal my daughter’s first step. They had to pay. Everyone had to pay. So I killed them. All of them. Everyone involved in letting that assassin step into the royal palace... I killed them on the spot. Blood splattered all over me. I wanted to hold Lavinia... But I was covered in blood. she will be disguested or scared if she sees me like that. I didn’t deserve to touch her. I reeked of blood. I couldn’t let my daughter see... how merciless her father was. No. I... I can’t. "Take Lavinia back," I ordered, my voice cold, refusing to look at her. I couldn’t let her see this side of me. But then— "Pa... pa..." What? I froze. Did she... just call me ’Papa?’ No... I must have heard wrong. But then— "Pa... pa..." Again. She called me. My daughter. Her first words... were for me. She called me, Papa. And that’s why— "Declare a national holiday." That’s what my daughter deserves. A celebration across the entire empire. But those foolish nobles... They had the audacity to come and persuade me to rethink it. How dare they? My daughter called me ’Papa.’ Isn’t that reason enough to celebrate? But since they insisted... I allowed the celebration to last for just three weeks. Damn... I wish I could have declared a whole month of festivities. My daughter’s first words deserved nothing less. And then one evening, as Nerina was putting Lavinia to sleep, I overheard Marella and Nerina whispering. "Is it true..." Marella’s voice was soft, barely above a murmur, "...that babies tend to forget people if they don’t see them for too long?" Forget? My ears sharpened. Nerina’s answer came, her tone calm but laced with certainty. "That’s right," she said quietly. "They do. Their brains are still developing. And during that process... if they don’t see the same people around them..." "...They may forget them." Marella sighed softly, her hand brushing Lavinia’s hair gently, "Then we must stay close to our princess." Forget? That means, If I don’t stay by her side...My daughter might forget me? No. I... I cannot let that happen. I must stay near her. Always. Never leave her side. But... I have to leave her now. The western provinces are stirring with unrest again—Merchants and fools constantly causing problems, and I’m the only one who can handle this mess. I have to go. Damn it! I shouldn’t have been a emperor. Now, I stand at the gates of the royal palace. Lavinia’s tiny hands clutch at my robe—Not letting me go. Her small, trembling fingers curl tighter, her eyes wide and pleading. "Pa... pa..." She’s so cute. So small. So fragile. And yet... she’s holding onto me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. My heart clenches. But I can’t stay. Not this time. I wish...I wish I could take her with me. Keep her close. Protect her. But I cannot. This journey is dangerous. And all I can do now is hope. Hope that my daughter—my baby—doesn’t forget me.