Chapter 34: Life (Under Surveillance) and Tragedy

Chapter 34: Life (Under Surveillance) and Tragedy "...so we’ve executed those nobles in public as you ordered, Your Majesty, and set an example." Huh? Execution again? I blinked from my perch on the Imperial Throne of Doomsday—also known as Papa’s lap—my cookie halfway to my mouth. Must been those pesky nobles who acted like drunken chickens while Papa was away. You know, barking orders, throwing coins, and probably plotting something treasonous while stepping in goose poop. Classic noble behavior. I should be shocked by the E-word. But at this point? Execution is like... breakfast. See Papa kill. See Papa execute. See Papa smile gently at me and then threaten someone’s bloodline in the same breath. It’s basically my daily schedule. The real mystery? Why am I still here? Seriously. After the drowning incident, I expected Papa to go back to his usual half-cold, half-"I’ll burn the world for you" routine. Instead, he went full apocalypse dad mode. First, he not only caged the pond. He put guards around it like it’s some royal hostage. And now? He doesn’t leave me alone. Not for a second. Before, he used to wake up before me and vanish like a broody ghost. Now? Now he waits. Every morning. Standing like a storm cloud draped in black and gold, arms crossed like a statue of divine judgment, glaring at the marella as she adjusts the ribbon on my dress like she might strangle me with it. "Ready?" he asked the moment my shoes were on. "...For what?" "For the day. You’re coming with me." And before I could protest, I was scooped up like a potato sack—but a luxurious imperial potato sack—and carried out of the nursery like his personal handbag. And that’s how my day starts these days. We reached the imperial office. The land of papers. Boring papers. Angry papa. And words like "border dispute," "rebellion," and my personal favorite, "total annihilation." I tried to fight. I really did. "Papa, I want—" "You’re sitting here." "But why?" "Because I said so." That’s it. No explanation. No hope. No mercy. And just like that, there I was. Perched on his lap. Holding a cookie. Drowning in paperwork I couldn’t read while men in robes argued over war and taxes like overcooked pigeons. To be fair, I was allowed to go out and play. But under certain conditions. Twelve knights. Nanny. Marella. Possibly a surveillance bird. You think I’m joking? I sneezed once, and a knight dropped a healing potion like I was about to explode. I bent down to pick a flower, and three swords sprang!—out of their scabbards! In case the daisy attacked me, I guess. And sometimes—just sometimes—Papa himself would follow me around the garden like a silent stalker with emotional issues. I’d be playing tag with butterflies, twirling in circles, and then— "Let’s get inside." "But it’s only been half an hour!" "No more." I stared at him like he’d betrayed the sun. Sometimes I wonder... am I a princess? Or a glorified prisoner with a tiara? I get it. He’s worried. I drowned and almost died. But if I survive much more of this affection-packed surveillance, I might drown in dramatic suffocation. Still... when I looked up and saw him watching me, eyes tight with fear he’d never say out loud, like the universe might snatch me away if he blinked—Well. Maybe being kidnapped by Papa’s paranoia isn’t so bad. Still. I swear I saw one of the knights inspecting a bush for snipers the other day. Someone save me. Please. Or at least bring snacks. And that’s how I’ve been living these days. Just a smol, oppressed imperial pancake, slowly being sautéed in affection and surveillance. Truly, I live in fear. And by fear, I mean warm blankets, fifteen guards breathing down my neck, and Papa watching me like I’m going to trip on air and die. I didn’t even realize it was that day. The day Osric would lose every single member of his family. I was far too busy doing absolutely nothing productive—lying limp on the grand couch in Papa’s office, occasionally flipping over like a sad fish, holding a crumb-covered cookie like it was the last piece of joy left in the world. It was late. Theon, going through reports with all the emotion of a soggy turnip, muttered, "Should I collect more taxes from the nobles, Your Majesty?" Papa, without even glancing up from his mountain of murder paperwork, said, "Do whatever you want." I blinked from my pancake position. ...So they just collect taxes when they’re bored now? Huh. Honestly, good idea. It’s not like the nobles are misunderstood kittens. They’re more like overgrown children with swords and powdered wigs, and I’ve seen at least three of them cry when Papa raises an eyebrow. I was just about to go back to contemplating the meaning of my tiny, imprisoned existence when— Something sparkled. I looked out of the window and— The sky. Wait. The stars. There were so many tonight; it looked like someone had spilled glitter all over the universe. "Woah..." I slid off the couch with the grace of a sleepy possum and crashed into the window with my nose smushed against the glass like a sugar-starved goldfish. "Wow... it’s beautiful." Papa paused. So did Theon. I felt their gazes shift toward the window. Theon strolled over, blinking like this was the first time he’d looked outside in twenty years. "Indeed, Princess. The night sky is beautiful today." Then he tilted his head slightly, like a confused chicken. "Is it today...?" I turned around, blinking suspiciously. "What?" And then Papa, in his deep, calm, utterly terrifying voice, dropped a sentence like a bomb:"All the stars will align tonight. You can see it." My eyes lit up like fireworks. "Really?!" Suddenly I was very serious about astronomy. Like, I’d forgotten how to spell ’danger’ because of the stars! I turned dramatically, launching myself at Papa’s leg and latching on like a barnacle with a wish. "Papa, I want to see! Please? Please, please, please? I’ll be good, I promise." He stared down at me. Silent. Sharp. Looming. Like he was deciding whether to say "yes" or send me to a monastery. And then— "...Let’s go." YESSSS.Ladies and gentlemen, we got him. *** The garden felt different tonight. The usual paranoia guards were scattered around like glittery statues, and I could hear Marella whispering something about blankets and cloaks. Papa carried me outside himself—like I’d blow away if he didn’t. And of course, I was wrapped in a cloak like a royal burrito of doom, complete with fur lining, heated cuffs, and a second smaller cloak layered on top. I looked less like a princess and more like a walking cinnamon roll with political influence. And then we both looked up. The stars were so bright. It was like someone had spilled diamonds across black velvet. So peaceful. So... quiet. And then it hit me. That scene. From the novel. I could see the words flashing in my head like subtitles:"The stars were aligned. The sky was beautiful. But for him, it marked the end of everything." I froze. No. When Osric, the Grand Duke of the Elarion empire, stood alone. He looked up at this same sky, stars aligned just like this—and thought it was beautiful. Because it was. But for him... It became the most tragic night of his life. The same beautiful night where he lost everything. Assassins slipped into the Everhart mansion like whispers in the dark. Everyone was slaughtered in their sleep—servants, knights, family. All of them. A massacre painted in silence and blood. Grand Duke Regis fought alone, but he had already been drugged. And little Osric—just eight years old—saw it all. Alone. Terrified. Drenched in the horror of a night he would never forget. My eyes widened. It’s today.The Everhart mansion... will be under attack today, or it already has been. How...how could I forget this? I shivered. Anxiety crawled up my spine like ice water. My whole body trembled. Papa noticed. He looked down at me, his voice dipping into something low and sharp. "What’s the matter?" I stared up at him. Should I tell him? Would he even believe me? Would I sound insane? Wait—am I allowed to meddle with the plot? ...Girl, you already did. I changed Lavinia’s fate. I survived when I was supposed to die. I turned the tyrant emperor into a doting, overprotective father who now treats me like I’m made of spun sugar and divine wrath. So no, I can’t just sit here wrapped in a designer baby cloak, munching cookies while Osric gets trauma-bombed into villainy. Absolutely not. Not on my watch. I clutched Papa’s robe like my life (and Osric’s mental health) depended on it. He frowned, his gaze sharpening. "Lavinia. What’s the matter?" Panic. Full-blown panic. I have to save Osric. But how? How do I explain that an entire noble house is being murdered right now? How do I casually drop, "Papa, the Everhart mansion is under attack," without sounding like I licked a magic mushroom? He’ll think I’m just babbling nonsense. And by the time he realizes I wasn’t... It’ll be too late. What do I say? What do I do? How do I save him before it’s too late?