Chapter 78: Avengers, Assemble… to Nivale!

Chapter 78: Avengers, Assemble... to Nivale! [Lavinia’s Pov] "Nanny... I’m telling you," I groaned as she tugged the sleeve of my red frock for the tenth time, "the wind’s going to mess it up anyway!" Nanny didn’t even blink. She just dusted off imaginary lint from the skirt and said in that calm-but-scary tone of hers, "I know, Princess. But this is your first official journey outside the Imperial Palace. You must look proper." "I’m a kid, Nanny. They’ll forgive me," I declared, trying to wriggle out of her grip. She tightened the belt with military precision. "Even if you’re a kid, you’re still the princess. And one day, the Empress. So. Must. Look. Proper." I sighed dramatically and flopped onto the couch like a dying swan. I should never forget that no one can win against a mother... Not even me, a princess. "Outside, the palace buzzed—maids running, guards lining up, and people whispering about the princess’s first official journey. Not that I was eavesdropping. It was my very first journey through the magic portal. Destination: Nivale — the land of elves hidden deep within the ancient forests. A magical place straight out of storybooks, where the trees whispered secrets and the people had pointy ears and prettier hair than me. Also—tiny detail—I felt like an Avenger. If sparkly portals and epic goodbyes weren’t peak superhero material, I didn’t know what was. And then— "Are you ready?" Papa’s voice cut through the chamber like hot cocoa on a cold morning. Nanny jumped into formality mode so fast I almost got whiplash. She bowed neatly and said, "The princess is ready, Your Majesty." Papa stepped inside, wearing a sleek black coat with silver embroidery. His long hair was tied back, and he looked like he was about to attend a royal ball or commit murder. No in-between. I, being the mature five-year-old that I am, twirled in my red frock and flared it like a dramatic flower. "How do I look? Pretty~~~ right?" Papa paused. He blinked. Then he tilted his head like he was examining an abstract painting. "...Not bad." NOT. BAD?! I froze. "Papa," I said, my voice scandalized. "Papa. PAPA. Look properly. Say I look pretty. Say it!" I jumped up and down like a bunny on sugar. "You’re supposed to say I’m the cutest in the empire!" He raised one eyebrow, arms crossed like some overly strict teacher in a fairy tale. "A ruler shouldn’t fish for compliments." "Then consider this a royal decree!" I declared, pointing a chubby finger right at him. "You should look properly, Papa. Look, I’m pretty. Say it." Papa’s lip twitched. Oh, he was amused. I could see it—the tiniest sparkle in his scary emperor eyes. He watched me hop like a bunny on a sugar high, then finally gave in. Bending down, he rubbed my cheeks, squishing them like mochi, and kissed my forehead. "My daughter is the prettiest in the empire..." I beamed. See? I knew it! "...because she got my looks." I blinked. Paused. And sighed. ... Well, he’s not wrong. I mean, facts were facts. I was basically a tiny, cuter version of Papa. Same golden hair, same red eyes, same resting scary-face. Since he was dangerously handsome, it only made sense that I was outrageously pretty. Then Papa gave me that look—the one that screamed overprotective tyrant mode. His gaze sharpened like he was about to declare war on a bakery for selling stale bread. "Remember," he said, voice all dark and dramatic, "if anyone dares to bully you or offend you... Just tell Ravick to execute them." I stared at him. Deadpan. "...Papa. Do you seriously think anyone can bully me that easily?" Then I narrowed my eyes, channeling my inner villainess, and said in a cold voice, "Don’t worry, Papa. If anyone offends me, I’ll punish them myself." Papa nodded, proud as if I’d just conquered a kingdom. "Good." Satisfied, I puffed my cheeks like I was royalty (which I am) and strutted toward the chamber doors with all the grace of a pint-sized general. "Let’s go! Nivale’s waiting! Avengers, assemble!" Papa tilted his head. "Avengers? What is that? A noble house?" I didn’t even stop walking. "They’re a group of superheroes who save people from monsters and aliens." Papa frowned. "If they’re that powerful, why haven’t I met them?" I grinned. "Because they’re fictional." He stopped mid-step. Blinking. "...So you made up powerful warriors and got excited about them?" "Exactly." He looked like he aged ten years in two seconds and sighed heavily. I just giggled and skipped ahead. Oh, if he thought this was strange, wait until he hears about multiverses. *** I dashed out of the palace like a shooting star on sugar, my little red shoes squeaking dramatically across the marble path. The garden was already buzzing with knights in shiny armor, servants panicking about "protocol," and a man in a robe whose vibe screamed, I’m a powerful archmage; fear me. But I wasn’t interested in any of that. Because—"Grandpaaaaa!" I spotted Grandpa Thalein and launched myself like a missile straight into his arms. Grandpa immediately knelt, arms wide open like the overly dramatic hero he believed himself to be. "Oh my precious sunshine dipped in stardust, come to Grandpa!" I crashed into his hug, giggling as he dramatically clutched his chest like he’d just seen the love of his life. "Oh my...my cheeky-peeky-boo...you look so beautiful today," he said with a flourish that made three knights physically flinch. I giggled. Around us, the soldiers, Ravick, and even the archmage stared with the dead-eyed exhaustion of people who’d witnessed too much. Even Papa looked like he was about to throttle something. He stepped forward and, without warning, scooped me right out of Grandpa’s arms like a grumpy crane machine. "Stop damaging my daughter’s brain," he muttered, holding me like a grumpy cat. "She can’t take this level of cliché. Her tiny skull’s still developing." Grandpa shot him a glare. "She’s my granddaughter, Cassius. She’ll never get bored of me!" Then he turned back to me, eyes instantly going soft like melted pudding. "Right, my cheeky-peeky boo?" I nodded with a big smile and said, "I love Grandpa~!" Papa went deadpan. Grandpa smirked like a victorious gremlin. "See? Told you. She has excellent taste." Papa looked at me like he was seriously questioning every choice that led to my creation. And...I shrugged. I mean, what could I do? People loved me. Loudly. Dramatically. Everyone had their own way to show love, right? Papa sighed heavily, then turned to the group of knights standing stiff as statues. His eyes narrowed like a hawk spotting a mouse. "All of you," he said, his voice dropping to the depth of murder. "Take care of the princess." He stepped forward, holding me close like I was the crown jewel of the empire—and he was not wrong. "If I see so much as a scratch on her," he said, tone low and cold, "I will personally make sure each one of you regrets your birth." Boom. All the knights dropped to one knee at once, their voices echoing through the garden. "WE WILL PROTECT THE PRINCESS WITH OUR LIVES, YOUR MAJESTY!!" My ears rang. My ego swelled. Grandpa chuckled and turned to the robed man who had been respectfully pretending not to exist. "It’s time." The archmage nodded, raising his hands. Magic surged around him in beautiful glowing patterns, lighting up the air like fairy dust. And then, with a whoosh that nearly knocked over a pot of roses— A gigantic portal swirled open. "Wooooooooooow..." I gasped, eyes wide, mouth even wider. The portal was a shimmering oval of glowing light, layered in runes and swirling with colors I didn’t even have names for. It buzzed with energy and smelled faintly of old books and adventure. I turned to Grandpa, eyes wide and sparkling like someone who just discovered cake for the first time. "Grandpa, is this how you travel? No carriages? No horses? Just—whoosh?" Grandpa puffed up like a peacock on parade. "That’s right, my little jellybean. This is the ancient, majestic magic of Nivale. Elegant. Efficient." "Wooooow..." I whispered in awe, practically glowing. Behind me, Papa muttered just loud enough for my ears to catch it, "Is he luring my daughter with sparkly nonsense?" Then, Grandpa, smug as ever, sauntered toward him, arms outstretched like he was about to receive a sacred treasure. "Come now, hand her over." There was a brief silence—a tense, manly silence filled with unspoken threats, warnings, and the weight of fatherhood. Then finally, Papa said quietly, "Take care of her." Grandpa smiled, gentle and sure. "You really don’t have to tell me. I know exactly what not to do." Papa raised an eyebrow like he wasn’t so sure that was comforting. Then he turned to me, his usual stern expression melting like ice cream under the sun. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his voice soft. "Take care." I beamed and threw my arms around his neck, kissing his cheeks loudly—mwah, mwah! "Don’t worry, Papa! I’ll be back before you know it! And when I come back, I’ll tell you every story! So you better take notes!" Papa smiled, that rare, warm smile that only belonged to me. Then, reluctantly, he handed me over to Grandpa like he was passing along a priceless royal artifact. Grandpa took me into his arms like I was a victory prize and turned toward the swirling portal of magic, and behind me, chaos followed. But ahead? Ahead was Nivale—land of elves, forest wonders, twinkly magic, and my first step into a story far bigger (and shinier) than I ever imagined. With one last glance back at Papa—we stepped into the light.