Too Lazy to be a Villainess-Chapter 85: The Fairy and her Tyrant Father

[Theon’s Pov]

Five years.

It’s been five years since the heavens themselves decided we deserved a little peace in this death-scented palace.

Five years since the tyrant, Emperor Cassius—yes, that Cassius, the one who used to swing his sword like it was a conductor’s baton and the servants were the orchestra—stopped turning palace corridors into graveyards.

He was a demon in royal robes, a lunatic with a crown, a nightmare given human form. He’d behead a noble for breathing too loud and once sliced a tray in half because the soup was lukewarm. No one dared ask how he knew. He just knew.

And thus... Princess Lavinia was born.

Or dropped by a celestial phoenix. Who knows. She’s too strange to be fully human.

But whatever she is, it worked.

The fairy girl. The god-blessed miracle. The unhinged cherub with two dimples and a sword sharper than her father’s tongue.

Some say she was sent by the heavens. Others say a deity got drunk and thought, "Eh, maybe this will fix him."

And it did. Well, mostly.

Cassius stopped killing for sport. He stopped glaring at people like they were turnips in a stew. The death count dropped. Maids started smiling again. Even the palace cats came back.

Because now?

Now his life revolves entirely around that tiny golden-haired menace.

Oh, don’t let her cute little face fool you. Princess Lavinia Devereux may look like a cherub from a holy painting, but she’s just as insane as her father. Only difference?

She’s better at hiding it.

That kid—five years old, mind you—has never thrown a tantrum. Never cried from seeing blood. She doesn’t fear anyone. Not the knights, not the ministers, and definitely not her father

But now...

Oh, now.

Princess Lavinia—our savior, our pint-sized empress of peace—is on a two-day trip to the Nivale.

TWO. DAYS.

And His Glorious Majesty has OFFICIALLY lost his damn mind.

I’m standing behind him right now, watching this like it’s a staged opera called "The Emperor’s Meltdown: A Tragedy in Floral Minor."

There’s a maid kneeling in the center of the hall, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. Why?

Because—gasp—she moved the princess’s favorite flower vase five inches to the left.

I repeat: Five. Inches. To. The. Left.

Cassius is looming above her like a divine punishment, sword drawn, eyes blazing, looking like he’s about to perform an exorcism with steel.

"With whose permission did you dare—DARE—to move my daughter’s vase?" he snarls, voice low, lethal, and very emperor-y.

The maid makes a squeaky, hiccuping sound. "Y-Your Majesty, I—I’m s-s-so sorry! I didn’t—I mean—I thought maybe the light would catch the porcelain better—"

I swear the temperature in the hall drops five degrees. Cassius raises the sword just a fraction.

He is ACTUALLY about to decapitate someone over a damn vase.

And that’s when Grand Duke Regis—the only person in this entire palace with a functional brain—casually strolls in holding a peach, as if he isn’t about to interrupt a murder.

"Alright, alright, that’s enough," he says, reaching out and pushing down the emperor’s sword like it’s just a spatula.

"Cassius. It’s a vase. Not Lavinia’s beating heart. It can be put back."

Cassius scowls like someone kicked his dog. "She liked it right there."

"Yes, and she’ll like it again if we move it right there again," Regis replies, somehow both patient and exasperated. "Also, I’m fairly sure she doesn’t even remember what direction the vase was facing."

The maid squeaks. I think she’s praying to twelve gods at once.

Cassius exhales like a dragon trying not to burn down a forest.

"Fine," he snaps, sheathing his sword with unnecessary flair. "But next time someone dares touch anything of Lavinia’s without consulting me—"

"—they’ll be beheaded, exiled, quartered, and banned from flowers for life, yes, we know," Regis mutters, now examining the vase himself.

I lean casually against a pillar, arms crossed, one brow raised like the only sane man left in the ruins of a burning kingdom.

I sighed. Loudly. Dramatically. The kind of sigh that comes from a soul that has lived through too much.

I really thought he’d changed.

I did.

Once upon a time, the name Cassius Devereux made people tremble. I mean—he literally blinked, and a noble fell over dead from fear. That’s not a metaphor. That happened.

For five years, I thought:

"Yes! He’s finally become a human man! A functioning adult male of society! A father who loves!"

But alas.

It was all a delusion.

He has a temper worse than a drunk dragon in tax season. Dangerous doesn’t even begin to cover it. He’s one emotional hiccup away from inventing a new form of punishment called "Flowerpot Guillotine."

And yet...YET.Every ounce of that fury just melts when Princess Lavinia appears.

I mean MELTS. Like snow in the sun. Like butter on a hot bun. Like logic in this palace.

No weather pattern on this Earth—no storm, no hurricane, no chameleon—no creature in existence changes its mood as violently and rapidly as Cassius when he sees that tiny, five-year-old goblin he calls his daughter.

It should be reassuring.

It’s not.It’s deeply concerning.

One second he’s threatening to paint the floors with someone’s intestines, and the next he’s on the ground holding her in his arms with a serial killer smile.

That’s not called parenting. That’s called emotional whiplash.

And just as I’m deciding whether to fake a fainting spell to get out of here—

"Did we get any message from Nivale?" Cassius asked, turning to me sharply.

I blink. Once. Twice. My brain spins like a broken weather vane.

"Huh... what message, Your Majesty...?"

His entire body stilled.

His eyes slowly turned to me, glowing with that same ominous fury he used to reserve for traitors, assassins, and people who didn’t bow deep enough.

"...When. Is. My. Daughter. Coming. Back?"

Ah.

There it is.

The tone.

The one that makes grown men cry and horses run in the opposite direction.

I coughed into my fist.

"Well, uh, Your Majesty—according to the latest official report, her tour is meant to last approximately... two days. Depending, of course, on fairy sightings, seasonal moonlight rituals, spontaneous woodland tea parties, and... you know, meeting her elf brothers." I added a casual shrug, praying to every known deity that he wouldn’t go full apocalypse mode.

"So," I drawled, "she might... possibly... maybe stay a bit longer? It’s all up to the princess."

Silence.

Dead.

Frozen.

Eerie.

Cassius slowly turned his head toward me like a cursed marionette in a horror tale.

His jaw tensed.

His brows twitched.

The chandelier trembled overhead for no reason.

"I knew it," he growled, each word dropping like a guillotine blade.

Regis and I looked at each other, visibly confused. Regis raised one brow in question. I answered with a blink that said, I don’t know either, but please make it stop.

"May I ask..." I began cautiously, "What exactly does Your Majesty think?"

The temperature dropped a full ten degrees.

The guards outside the hall visibly shivered.

Somewhere in the distance, a wine bottle exploded.

Cassius clenched his gloved fists so tightly his rings left marks on his palm. His voice came out low. Dangerous. Unhinged. freёwebnoѵel.com

"That elf... that ancient goat-spirited tree-dweller of a geezer... has officially... kidnapped my daughter."

Regis blinked once. Then again. Then tilted his head and said, "Okay, you’re overthinking—"

"I. AM. NOT."

Cassius’ voice echoed through the room like the cry of a mad god about to summon a thunderstorm out of pure fatherly anxiety.

I took a careful step back and plastered on a diplomatic smile. "Your Majesty, if I may gently remind you... Princess voluntarily went with Lord Thalein to visit his realm."

Cassius scoffed so hard I think the curtains blew back.

"Voluntarily?" He snarled. "She’s five, Theon! Five-year-olds cannot make diplomatic decisions!"

Regis didn’t even look up from the vase this time. "And yet you let her decide her first royal decree last year."

Cassius narrowed his eyes. "That decree was necessary."

"You made her commander of the Second Imperial Army," Regis said flatly.

Cassius turned slowly, eyes burning with the kind of fatherly fury that could flatten nations. "She has a vision for justice."

I, Theon—long-suffering, underpaid, and possibly the last sane person in this palace—took one cautious step forward.

"My lord, perhaps if we just... wait—"

"Theon." He turned sharply toward me, eyes blazing. "Tell them to ready the carriage."

I blinked. "Pardon... ready the carriage... for what?"

He took one majestic step forward, cloak billowing dramatically despite there being no wind indoors. "We’re going to get my daughter back."

"WHAT?!"

"Your Majesty," I said, stepping in front of him like a human wall, "with all due respect, Princess Lavinia is merely visiting her elven brothers. She’s probably braiding moss into someone’s hair or—gods forbid—adopting a woodland creature as a pet."

"She said she’d be back in two days," Cassius seethed. "It’s been two and a half! Do you know what that means?"

"That your sense of time slightly dramatic?"

"It means," he said, voice dropping to a whisper so intense I swear I saw thunderclouds forming, "that that old, vine-swinging geezer has kidnapped my daughter."

Regis groaned from the other end of the room. "Oh dear gods, not this again."

"I am going to Nivale," Cassius declared, storming past us. "Ready the imperial banners! Tell the First Army to prepare to march!"

Oh gods. He’s completely lost it.

Someone. Anyone. Fairies. Forest spirits. Goblin accountants. Even a vengeful ex-empress. Please... send us help. Or at least send the princess home. Before he swings the sword—

"PAPA...!"

Everything stopped.

We all turned, slowly and there—stepping out of a shimmering, twinkling magic portal—like the sun rising after a storm—she ran.

"PAPA!!"

Cassius’s sword slipped from his fingers.

And just like that... the Empire was saved.