Chapter 64: The Grim Reaper and the Apple Pie

Chapter 64: The Grim Reaper and the Apple Pie [Lavinia’s Pov] WHAT—?! Ravick? The Grim Reaper of the Battlefield... is going to be my royal knight? Like... my personal bodyguard? Right next to me? All day? Every day? Wow. I can’t believe it. "You? Guard me? Personally? Like, all day? Every day?" I asked, just to be sure I hadn’t misunderstood and he wasn’t talking about some other baby princess hiding behind my toy chest. "Yes, my princess," Ravick replied, completely unbothered by my dramatic flailing and inner happiness. "I shall remain by your side at all times, ensuring your safety from this day forward." ... Okay, deep breath. Let’s rewind. I used to be a salarywoman with 70-hour work weeks and three plants I couldn’t keep alive. Now I’m being guarded by the captain of the Black Knights, the most feared knights in the empire—no, probably the whole continent. The guy who never shows mercy. The same one nobles whisper about like a bedtime story gone wrong. And he’s going to protect me. A tiny, spoiled baby princess who hoards cookies and occasionally chews on her blanket. Sometimes, in the middle of playing or stuffing sweets into my mouth, I freeze. I realize—I really am reborn. As the empire’s sole princess. The next empress. The imperial cinnamon roll of the century. This is insane. "B-but don’t you have, like, important things to do?" I asked curiously, tilting my head. "Slay monsters, terrify noblemen, stare meaningfully at bloodstained walls?" He didn’t even blink. "Your safety is my most important task, Princess Lavinia." Eep. That was kind of cool, actually. I smiled, trying to look elegant and not at all like someone whose internal monologue just screamed "COOL COOL COOL COOL COOL." "Then... I will be in your care, Ravick," I said sweetly, placing a hand on my puffed-up dress like a true little princess. Ravick’s lips twitched. Just barely. But I saw it. A faint smile. Aha! Emotion detected! He nodded silently. But something still bugged me. I tilted my head again and squinted. "...But why were you standing outside ? You should’ve come in, you know. What if you caught a cold?" Then a voice chimed in, warm and teasing: "He was guarding you all night, my precious." I turned around like lightning and gasped. "Grandpa!" And before anyone could stop me, I zoomed across the room on my tiny legs and threw myself at him. Grandpa Thalein scooped me up with a laugh, spinning me once before cradling me close. "Ohhh, my precious! My lovely! My moonlight and stars! My soft and squishy treasure!" Grandpa rubbed his cheek against mine like a cat trying to mark its favorite pillow. "Ahahaha—Grandpa!" I squealed, wiggling in his arms as he nuzzled me like a lovesick feline. "That tickles!" "Good! Laughter is good for growing bones," he said seriously, now kissing my forehead, then my cheek, then my other cheek. "I thought Papa would be here," I said with a pout. "Your father’s finishing up some important matters," Grandpa said, glancing at Ravick with a knowing smile. "But I couldn’t resist coming to see my little sunshine after such a scare. Yesterday my precious treasure almost got hurt; I nearly fainted." "I’m okay now!" I declared bravely, puffing up my chest. "You healed me, and Ravick saved me!" "Yes, he did," Grandpa nodded solemnly. "And now he’ll keep saving you every day. Isn’t that reassuring?" I nodded. Then reached up and patted Grandpa’s cheeks. "But Grandpa..." "Yes, my moonberry?" "...Why do you smell like apples?" He paused. Then grinned. "Because I brought you pie." "PIE?!" I gasped like he’d told me Santa Claus was real. He held up a small box with a ribbon. "Fresh from the Nivale Kingdom. Your favorite." My stomach rumbled right on cue. Ravick blinked in surprise. I coughed awkwardly and looked away. "Anyway. Let’s eat." *** Oooo...ho ho. The crust. The taste. OH my...it felt like I had just tasted heaven itself. A buttery, golden, warm piece of heaven, sprinkled with cinnamon and joy. Should I tell Papa to hire Nivale’s royal pie chef? No, seriously. I must. Papa would hire him in an instant—I know it. He once built me a private garden just because I said flowers were "cute." Hiring a pie man? A mere flick of his imperial fingers. Poof. Endless pie forever. As I plotted my future dessert empire, Nanny hummed softly and gently combed my hair, tugging just enough to make my head wobble. "Looks like our princess is in a happy mood today," she said with a smile. "Of course I am," I said smugly, hugging Nanny like a warm pillow. "I have pie. A knight. And a grandpa who gives me secret sugar before sunrise." Nanny chuckled. "I see. Since you like Lord Thalein so much, why don’t you write him a thank-you letter? I’m sure it would make him very happy." "Letter? But Nanny..." I pouted, "I don’t know how to write properly yet." She patted my head gently. "Then why don’t you draw something instead?" "Draw?" I mumbled. Nanny nodded, and my eyes lit up. "Alright! I’ll do it!" "Then I shall bring some colors, my princess," Marella smiled warmly. I nodded with the importance of a royal decree. "Make sure to bring the sparkly ones. Grandpa deserves sparkles." Marella curtsied with a giggle and left the room. *** [Emperor Cassius’s Pov] "So... You’re saying they wanted to terrorize me by kidnapping Lavinia," I said, my voice low and cold, the syllables cutting through the chamber like shards of ice. Theon didn’t meet my eyes. "Yes, Your Majesty." I could feel something dark coil inside me. Slowly. Quietly. Like a blade unsheathing. Theon continued, "I believe... they sought to shake the very foundation of the empire. By harming the princess, they’d strike at its heart—and at you." My fist clenched on the armrest of the throne. Grand Duke Regis stepped forward, face grim. "And... it’s a strike from the insider." I turned my full gaze on him, one brow rising. "Insider?" Regis gave a slow, bitter nod. "There are whispers on the streets—growing louder by the day. They say an elf doesn’t deserve to be the next ruler of the Elarion Empire. That the blood of the forest should not taint the crown." He looked up, and there was fury behind his eyes. "So they decided to act. To end her. Before she could rise." HOW DARE THEY! "Those... bastards," Theon hissed, jaw tight. "They’re the same ones, your majesty. The ones who have always resented Your Majesty’s throne. I believe it’s them. The same dogs who barked when you rose as the emperor. They are the ones who wanted war. They are from the ones who hate you and hate you as a ruler." A moment of silence stretched in the hall. Elf blood. So what? So what if she has it? She is my daughter. My daughter. And she will be the next ruler. As she should. I rose from my throne slowly. A simple motion—but the guards around the chamber immediately stiffened. "Theon." "Yes, Your Majesty?" "Triple the guard around her chambers. Anyone caught within thirty steps without clearance is to be executed. No questions." "Yes, Your Majesty." "And send word to Ravick. He is not to leave her side—not even to breathe." "Understood." I sighed, slow and heavy, but it did nothing to cool the rage boiling in my blood. I could still feel it—burning low and bitter in my chest. And then— "Is Papa inside?" Lavinia? The voice of light in this cursed empire. "Yes, my princess. But His Majesty is in a meeting," the guard replied gently. I glanced at Theon, my expression softening just slightly. "Theon. Tell Lavinia I will come to her in ten minutes." He bowed and turned toward the door. But before he could touch it, her voice rang again—higher, closer. "Oh, but I wanted to give this drawing to him!" I froze. Drawing? Did she draw something? "Wait." My voice cut through the room like steel. Theon halted instantly. Then, there was a pause. Later Ravick’s voice, calm and coaxing: "Princess... how about we come a little later? His Majesty will be done soon." Another pause. And then her small, sad voice drifted in, barely above a whisper. "But... I wanted to show my first drawing to Papa." Something in my chest cracked—soft, clean. Like thin ice under a single step. I smiled. Of course she would want to show it to me. Her first drawing. Not her nanny. Not her maids. Not even her grandpa. Me. I guess... I shouldn’t let her wait. "Let her in," I said quietly. The great doors creaked open, and the tension in the room melted away with the soft padding of small feet against marble floors. There she was. My Lavinia. A scrap of paper clutched proudly in her hands. Her hair is in loose, slightly crooked curls. A smudge of blue crayon on her cheek. "Papa!" she announced brightly, holding it above her head. "I drew our family picture!"