Chapter 91: Operation: Stop the Fluffy Romance

Chapter 91: Operation: Stop the Fluffy Romance [Lavinia’s Pov] It’s been exactly eight days, thirteen hours, and... possibly four minutes since I arrived back from Nivale, and let me tell you something— The palace has been nothing short of a dramatic theatre production... ON FIRE. The whole week? CHAOS. Pure, unfiltered, head-scratching, maid-squealing, noble-sighing chaos. Why? Because. The elf-trafficking scumbags got caught. Apparently, while I was busy trying to convince Nanny to give me three extra honey tarts (she didn’t), Grand Duke Regis, Ravick, and my forever-serious (and forever handsome—he says so himself) Brother Soren rescued the kids. And later...Papa personally interrogated them. And by "interrogated," I don’t mean, "Tell me your name, villain!" with stern eyes and a little slap on the table. No, no, no. I mean— BOOM. CRACK. THUD. SPLASH. Leg-breaking. Arm-twisting. Possibly intestine-churning.I even overheard a knight say very dramatically, "The blood was falling from their hands like a red waterfall." Like a WATERFALL. Please, someone write a sad poem about it—I’m five, and even I can tell that’s poetic material. Papa declared it an act of high treason. And then? He didn’t just erase their family from nobility. No, no. He erased them from the entire map. Like—poof. Gone. History. Who even were they? And now the palace has turned into Whisper CentralTM. I hear the maids everywhere going, "Did you hear? His Majesty erased them from the archives!" "Even the family crest is gone." And while everyone’s nervously whispering, you know who’s really suffering the most? No, not the criminals. Not the elven kids (they’re safe and munching pastries now). Theon. Papa’s assistant. And now... part-time sobbing statue. Because guess what? The entire workload of the now-extinct Verellon family landed on his desk like a falling castle tower. Boom. He cried. Like, real tears. I saw it. He sat in the corner muttering things like, "Why did I choose this life?" and "I should’ve become a florist," and "I miss sleep like it’s my long-lost lover." But does he leave? Nope. He just wipes his tears with palace reports and mutters something about "pension and honor" and keeps scribbling away. Whatever it was, Theon accepted his fate. Like a tragic side character in a play titled "The Assistant Who Couldn’t Escape Taxes." Anyway. That’s what’s been going on for the past week. But do you want to know what’s even more disturbing? More hair-raising? More... dramatic than a noble family being wiped from existence? ... MARSHI. HAS. FALLEN. IN. LOVE. Yes. My divine beast. My majestic fluffball of power. The bringer of storms and chaos. HAS FALLEN IN LOVE WITH A CAT. A CAT. A WANDERING, FLUFFY, SUSPICIOUSLY-ELEGANT, RANDOM PALACE CAT. We were just walking back from the garden. I turned around for ONE second. ONE. And the next thing I know? He’s making the heart eyes emoji in real life. I swear his tail turned into a heart shape. And when I picked him up to drag him back because hello? You don’t court strange cats without a background check— He. Hissed. At. Me. At ME. HIS MASTER. THE PRINCESS. THE SUPREME SUPPLIER OF SNACKS. "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU—" I yelled. And he hissed again, all pouty and sparkly-eyed, like I just ruined his royal wedding. "Stop hissing! I am your MASTER, and you’re NOT allowed to chase after some RANDOM BEAUTIFUL CAT YOU MET TWO MINUTES AGO! SHE CAN BE A CHEATER!" He huffed. Literally huffed like an overdramatic prince denied his bride. Then he whipped his head away, flung his tail like a diva’s scarf, and climbed to the top of my wardrobe with such majestic sass, I almost applauded. "This. Darn. Divine. Beast." I muttered. I can’t believe this is my life now. Palace politics? Criminal empires? Entire families being deleted like badly written side characters? Sure. Fine. Great. But babysitting a love-struck divine beast who’s now writing sad, tragic love poems on the top of my wardrobe with his PAW...? ... That’s just too much. "Fine... stay angry..." I muttered, arms crossed, glaring up at the majestic fluff of betrayal. "But I can’t let you fall in love with her, okay?" Yes. I said it. I. SAID. IT. The room went so silent, I swear even the wind paused to sip tea. And of course, behind me... "Pfft—" That was Marella. "She’s behaving like a mother who’s opposing her son’s love affair..." She whispered like it was a scene from a palace drama. Which, apparently, it now is. "Shhh, let her be," Nanny Chuckles hushed her, but I caught the smile in her voice. They think this is FUNNY? This is parental agony! I turned around slowly, with all the dignity of a five-year-old princess scorned by her cat. "I am NOT opposing his love affair," I announced. "I’m just... protecting him from heartbreak! That cat could be... a spy! Or married! Or worse—a DOG in disguise!" Ravick actually gasped. "The scandal." Marshi, up on his dramatic perch, let out a long, soulful meooooooow like some rejected opera singer. "Oh, don’t give me that!" I waved a tiny fist at him. "You just MET her! You don’t even know her name!" He fwipped his tail. Deliberately. Rude. "And I bet she doesn’t even like you!" More tail fwipping. Dramatic sigh. Paws over eyes. Full heartbreak mode: activated. I threw my hands in the air. "I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. With a CAT. Who is a BEAST. Who is DIVINE." Behind me, the trio—erupted into giggles again. And then— "What’s happening?" It was Papa. As I saw him, I yeeted myself at him like a tiny missile. "Papa!!" He caught me effortlessly, like I was just a feather with feelings. His arm went around me, strong and protective, and his free hand instinctively patted my back like he was disarming a tiny emotional bomb. Then I pointed an accusatory finger straight at the top of my wardrobe. "Papa... that divine beast is BROKEN." Papa’s gaze followed my finger. He locked eyes with Marshi, who immediately fluffed up like a terrified mop. There was a dangerous pause. Then Papa calmly asked, "Shall I wipe him off?" ... WHA—NO!? "No, no, no!" I flailed like a panicked crab. "He’s just...emotionally unstable right now! His heart is wounded! I-I can endure him!!" I added the last part nobly, like a true warrior mother trying to protect her emotionally wrecked feline son. Papa stared at me. Then at Marshi. Back at me. Then he nodded solemnly. "Endurance builds character." "Exactly," I sniffed, wiping away an imaginary tear. Then he adjusted his stance slightly and said, "Your grandfather and brothers are leaving. Do you want to see them off? You don’t have to." I blinked. "Wait... They’re leaving already?" I blinked up at Papa. He nodded with that same eternal calm. "The children need to be reunited with their parents. The sooner, the better." "Alright," I nodded and said, "let’s go." We walked side by side down the long, polished hallway, sunlight spilling in through tall windows, the distant sound of chirping birds mingling with the echo of our footsteps. As we approached the garden, I could see the swirling magic of the portal glowing faintly like a miniature galaxy. Grandpa Thalein stood tall and regal in front of it, while the Elven knight did a headcount of tiny, hyperactive kids like a stressed-out teacher on a field trip. "Is everyone here?" Brother Lysandre asked, and I sprinted toward Grandpa Thalein. "Grandpa~~~!" I squealed. His eyes softened instantly, turning from an ancient healer of legend to a giant magical puppy. He knelt down with open arms. "Oh my precious little star!" he cooed as he hugged me tightly. I gave my best dramatic pout, complete with glossy eyes and a wobbly lower lip. "Grandpa... visit me soon, okay? And bring me gifts. Okay?" Grandpa immediately nodded with the seriousness of a man swearing an oath of blood. "I will bring you entire treasure chests, I swear it." Before the moment could fully melt hearts, Lysandre’s voice cut through the garden like a mischievous breeze. "I’ll bring you extra gifts if you hug me too—" BONK. Grandpa didn’t even look. He just smacked Lysandre on the back of the head like it was a reflex. "She won’t hug an idiot like you." "I’M HER BROTHER!" Lysandre cried, dramatically clutching his skull like he’d been mortally wounded. I giggled. And then—suddenly—a warm hand patted the top of my head. "I’ll bring more gifts than both of them combined," Soren said smoothly, crouching down beside me with a gentle smile. "If you say you’ll miss me." He blinked at me, all soft-eyed and hopeful like some gentle prince in a storybook. Everyone around us fell silent. Even the Elven kids stared. I blinked back at him. Then I tilted my head, gave a slow dramatic gasp, and replied, "...Are you trying to bribe my love?!" Soren didn’t even flinch. He just nodded solemnly and said, "Yes." I sighed, saying, "Alright...I will miss you." Then, with the confidence of a man who had just won an international tournament of who-does-she-love-more, he leaned in and whispered with a smug smile,"Victory is mine." Behind us, Papa stood by the magic portal, the swirling lights reflecting in his unimpressed gaze. His aura screamed I have ruled empires but this is somehow worse. He exhaled like the weight of a thousand facepalms rested on his shoulders. "If you’re all done behaving like children," he said dryly, "you may leave now." Grandpa Thalein didn’t even look at him. He simply pulled me into another warm, crushing hug and whispered near my ear like it was a sacred secret,"Miss me more than all of them, okay, my precious star?" I nodded seriously. "I’ll miss you the mostest." And just like that, with a final round of hugs, cheerful waves, and a few teary-eyed elf kids clinging to Lysandre’s legs before being peeled off, the portal shimmered to life. One by one, they stepped through—the elf children rescued, safe at last, heading home to their families. The knights followed, then Soren, then Grandpa with a final wink. And as the light faded and the portal closed behind them, the garden quieted. I stood beside Papa, the wind brushing through the trees, the scent of magic still lingering in the air. "...Well," I muttered, hands on my hips. "That was a lot." Papa said nothing. Just rested a hand on my head. And with that, the chaos of the week gently came to a close.