Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 303

Chapter 303: The Night I Forgot My Own Engagement

[Lavinia’s POV — Imperial Carriage, Returning to the Palace]

The carriage rocked gently through the sleeping capital, wheels whispering against cobblestone. Moonlight streamed through the glass, painting pale rivers across my lap.

Silence pressed close, broken only by the steady rhythm of hooves—Sir Haldor’s horse keeping perfect pace beside us.

I leaned back, eyes half-closed, letting the rhythm lull my anger into something colder. Outside, the city looked peaceful. Too peaceful. As if it hadn’t just watched its Crown Princess turn a ballroom into a battlefield.

Marshi purred softly at my feet, his tail flicking against my gown—a steady, comforting rhythm that matched the pulse of the carriage wheels. Even he could sense it.

The weight of what I’d done. The silence of an empire that now looked at me with fear instead of reverence.

"Are you regretting it, my dear?" Papa’s voice cut through the quiet—smooth, low, unreadable.

He sat across from me, one hand resting on his knee, the other tapping lightly against the armrest. His eyes gleamed faintly in the dim lantern light—molten gold, thoughtful and dangerous all at once.

I smiled faintly. "Why would I, Papa? I only reminded them what happens when they forget who rules them."

A slow smirk curved his mouth. "Good."

He leaned back, folding his hands. "Never regret anything, Lavinia. A ruler who hesitates loses twice—once to her enemies and once to her own doubt."

He watched me closely, his tone turning deliberate, heavy with meaning.

"You must have such confidence in yourself that no one dares to question it. You have every right to shake the empire, to raise the lowborn, to destroy the corrupt, and to rewrite law itself if you wish. The Empire will bend to your will if you never flinch."

His words filled the carriage like iron smoke, hot and consuming. Then he leaned forward slightly, his gaze softening—just a little. "No matter what happens, remember this: the Empire comes first. Not the nobles. Always."

The carriage rocked to a stop outside the palace gates.

I met his gaze and nodded once. "I understand, Papa."

He smiled—the kind that only appeared when he was proud of something he wouldn’t say aloud. "Of course you do. You are my daughter, after all."

The guards opened the doors. Cool air swept in, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked stone. Papa stepped out first, his cloak catching the wind like a dark banner, then turned and offered his hand to me.

"Take rest for tonight," he said as I stepped down, his grip steady, grounding. "Tomorrow we’ll receive word from the Meren border."

My heart stirred at the name. "And if the news isn’t good?"

His eyes gleamed with quiet amusement. "Then you already know what happens next."

I nodded once, pride burning in my chest. "If war comes, I will face it head-on, Papa. This time, Meren will bow before our banner."

His expression softened, a rare glint of warmth slipping through the mask of an emperor. "That’s my girl."

He brushed a thumb across my cheek—gentle, almost reverent—then pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"Sleep, my little storm," he murmured. "Tomorrow, the world will start whispering your name differently."

And with that, he turned and strode into the shadows of the palace, Ravick falling into step behind him—two silhouettes swallowed by the night.

I watched him go, the wind tugging at my gown, and whispered to the moon above, "Let them whisper."

Marshi trotted beside me, tail flicking lazily, his golden fur glowing faintly in the torchlight.He let out a dramatic yawn that sounded far too judgmental for a divine beast.

I chuckled softly, reaching down to ruffle his fur. "What? Sleepy already?"

He purred, stretching like a cat who had seen too many empires rise and fall.

"Alright," I sighed fondly, "let’s go, then. You’ve earned your nap."

We turned toward my wing—the long, candlelit hallway echoing softly with our steps. I could almost feel the weight of the night shedding from my shoulders... until I heard it.

A footstep. Behind me. Measured. Heavy. Familiar.

I didn’t need to turn. "Sir Haldor?"

He halted immediately, bowing his head slightly. "Yes, Your Highness."

I glanced back, half-amused. "You can rest now. The day’s over."

He straightened, his expression composed but voice firm. "But the night isn’t, Your Highness. I’ll stand guard until sunrise."

I arched a brow, lips curling faintly. "You plan to guard me from the moon, then? "

He blinked once. "...If it poses a threat, yes."

I laughed—quietly, tiredly, but genuinely. "You’re impossible."

He said nothing, just stood there like a sentinel carved from shadow and loyalty. His armor caught the dim torchlight, gold trims glinting like quiet promises.

"Sir Haldor," I said at last, softer this time, "tomorrow will be long. And I don’t want my captain yawning through strategy meetings."

He opened his mouth to object—I could see it coming—so I cut him off gently. "That’s an order."

He hesitated, then bowed low. "As you command, Your Highness."

"Good." I smiled faintly. "Send someone else to take the post. I want you rested—not standing outside my door like a statue all night."

He looked up, and for just a second, his eyes softened—that quiet, unspoken loyalty glowing beneath the stoic mask. "Understood."

I waved a hand toward the hallway. "Then go, Captain. You’ve earned your rest tonight."

He inclined his head. "And you, Your Highness."

As I turned toward my chamber, I added, half over my shoulder, "See you tomorrow, Sir Haldor."

***

[Dawnspire Wing, Lavinia’s Chamber—Later]

My earring slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a small clink.

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