Too Lazy to be a Villainess

[Lavinia’s POV]

"Do you want to forgive him?" Papa asked, his voice calm and regal, like he hadn’t just dropped an emotional bomb into my lap.

...I blinked.

Wait. What!?

Why was I being asked this? Is Papa crazy?

I turned to stare up at him—His Majesty Emperor Cassius Devereux, Slayer of Kingdoms, Breaker of Spines, and Keeper of My Favorite Blankets—and tried to process what he just said.

And not just him.

The entire room.

Nobles. Generals. Grandpas. Knights. Theon. EVERYONE was staring at me like I was supposed to deliver some divine verdict.

Now...

...Is everyone crazy here?

They want a decision—from me? A four-year-old?

I looked around the great golden hall. The chandeliers sparkled. The nobles looked like they were holding their breath. The knights stood at full attention.

...

....

.....

Yup. I GUESS THEY ARE.

Meanwhile, Baron Vaun was still sobbing on his knees, looking like a squashed cabbage.

"My... Princess... have mercy on me..." he sniffled, his face slick with tears and, unfortunately, some very aggressive snot. "Spare this lowly one—!"

This bastard! Does he think I am stupid? That a few pitiful sobs and groveling words would erase what he’d done?

How dare he? Did he think just because I was giggling moments ago, I’d forgotten?

Forgotten that I almost died?

Forgotten how Nanny was attacked, how she bled trying to shield me?

Forgotten how Papa didn’t visit me for a whole week after that day?

A week of silence.

A week of wondering.

A week of fear.

And this coward has the nerve—the audacity—to beg for mercy from the very child he tried to kill?

Did he think that just because I was four, I wouldn’t remember? That my rage would fade with my age?

Fool.

I may be young, but I am my father’s daughter.

I will never forgive him. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never.

"NO." My voice was cold. Absolute. Final.

I stared down at the man groveling on the floor like a worm in silk robes, my crimson eyes narrowed and gleaming with disdain. My cheeks puffed out—not in innocence, but in rage barely contained by a four-year-old’s body.

"I don’t forgive you."

Silence.

Sharp. Heavy. Dangerous.

The kind of silence that makes grown men pray to gods they stopped believing in years ago.

"You dared to attack me."

My voice echoed like a gavel slamming in the imperial courtroom. Grandpa Thalein held me high in his arms, but I kicked my legs with precision—like a general signaling the start of war. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

"You tried to tear me from Papa. You tried to send me away—"

Gasps rippled through the room like a crack of thunder across a battlefield. Nobles stiffened. wide eyes.

"—Like I was some forgotten doll. That alone deserves death."

My finger shot out like a blade aimed at the baron’s throat.

"You are a traitor. A coward. A fool. And worst of all... you’re boring."

Now that insult actually earned a few chokes and muffled shrieks. Theon’s hand was halfway to his chest, like he was about to start clapping again. Grandpa Thalein was weeping silently. Nobles were visibly recoiling, as if my words had physical weight.

Papa’s lips twitched. A corner of his mouth curved—not quite a smile, more like a predator recognizing one of its own. Then he stepped forward, slow and elegant, and asked,

"Then what should we do to him?"

As if it were a casual matter.

As if I weren’t rewriting law with every breath.

I tilted my chin. My eyes locked onto Baron Vaun like I was studying an insect under glass. He looked up at me, trembling and snot-covered, praying for mercy in the presence of a child who had none.

"He should be beheaded in the public square," I declared.

Another pause. Then—

BOOM.

The throne room exploded into chaos.

The Imperial Guards looked like they were witnessing prophecy in real time. I could hear the chants already forming behind their shocked silence. The nobles were clapping in fear of Papa.

"Long live the princess!"

"The future Empress has spoken!"

"Glory to House Devereux!"

Theon wiped a tear and whispered, "We need to start recording her decrees..."

Baron Vaun wailed, "P-please! Your Highness! I-I—!"

I didn’t look at him. He wasn’t worth it.

But one thing I understood now. Papa didn’t gather all these nobles just to punish the baron. No, no. This wasn’t a lesson for him. This was a warning for everyone.

Papa was saying, Touch my daughter, and your head will roll.

And when he asked me what I wanted, he was telling them something else too.

That no matter how young I was—four, ten, or twenty—I was next in line. That if they played dirty with me, tried to scheme behind Papa’s back, or treated me like a pawn...

Then I’d behead them too. With ribbons in my hair.

Papa let out a low, dangerous chuckle and patted my head like I’d just recited a flawless political doctrine. "Well said, my little sun."

Grandpa Thalein immediately pulled me into a teary bear hug, rubbing his wrinkled cheek on mine.

"Oh my... Cheekie Boo is growing so well. I’m so proud..." he sobbed into a handkerchief embroidered with #1 Grandpa in golden thread.

Grandpa Gregor nodded solemnly like he was attending a war meeting. "She’s a Devereux through and through."

Even Grand Duke Regis smiled. Theon wiped a tear and whispered, "She really is her father’s daughter..."

Then, Papa turned to the Baron, eyes glowing with the kind of fury history books are too afraid to record.

"You heard the princess."

He paused.

Then smiled without warmth.

"A public beheading it is."

"NOOOOOO—!!" Guards dragged the screaming baron out while nobles dropped into deep bows, muttering things like,

"Glory to the Devereux line."

"I can’t believe what just happened."

"Truly, she is terrifyingly adorable."

Papa took me from Grandpa Thalein’s arms and lifted me high into the air like I was a sacred relic and not a sticky four-year-old.

"Let the Empire remember this day," he said in a cold, regal voice, "when Princess Lavinia Devereux issued her first imperial decree."

For some reason I felt proud.

"And..." Papa added, turning toward the crowd with a terrifyingly straight face.

Uh-oh.

I knew that voice.That was his announcement voice.

Why do I suddenly feel like something ridiculous is about to happen?

"...And I hereby declare today a national holiday in celebration of my daughter’s first decree."

......

WHAT!!!! AGAIN!!!!!

"Papa," I shrieked, flailing in his arms like an outraged imperial hamster. "You already made THREE holidays for me!"

He didn’t even blink.

"One must honor greatness," he replied solemnly, holding me like I was the crown jewel of an ancient prophecy. Or a very important potato.

The nobles, to my horror, didn’t question it. Not even a flinch. They just nodded. Like this was normal or...maybe used.

Then someone in the back shouted:

"All hail Her Highness, the Princess of Wrath and Justice!"

"Long live Her Imperial Princess!" another bellowed.

The entire crowd erupted.

Applause thundered. A trumpet blared off-key. Confetti cannons were definitely launched.

I’m 99% sure someone fainted behind me. Actually—yep. That’s Theon. Flat on the floor like a dead fish in a cravat because he’s got a lot of work coming.

I sighed.

Dramatically.

Being a princess is exhausting.

No one tells you that declaring public executions and managing Papa’s unhinged affection take so much effort.

...I need juice.And maybe cookies.Decapitating someone really works up an appetite.

Papa glanced at me with a soft smile. "Let’s go," he said gently.

I nodded like the tiny tyrant I was.

Theon and Grandpa Thalein fell into step behind us, silent and stunned. The hallway gleamed with light from the crystal chandeliers, echoing faintly with the sound of my victorious footsteps. I was still basking in the applause in my head.

That’s when I spotted them—Ravick and Nanny.

Standing just near the end of the corridor, both smiling with pride and a touch of awe.

Oh, they definitely saw everything.

Then Papa stopped mid-step. A sudden pause that made. Papa turned slightly towards Theon.

"Theon," he said, his voice calm but laced with quiet calculation, "how old are the Baron’s children?"

Theon blinked. "Pardon?"

"The Baron who dared touch what’s mine," Papa clarified, tone like silk over steel.

Theon hesitated, clearly wondering where this was going. "The son is twelve. The daughter... nine years old, Your Majesty."

Papa hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Then he said, like he was merely discussing tomorrow’s weather:

"...Until the daughter turns sixteen, provide for them using the Imperial Treasury. Ensure they receive proper education, housing, and security. The Empire will care for them."

Silence fell.

Even Theon looked like he’d been struck with a lightning bolt. "Your Majesty...?"

Papa turned toward me and brushed my cheeks with his thumb. His voice lowered: "We don’t let the sins of the father bury the children, right?"

"Justice must be sharp, but never blind."

My small fingers clutched his cloak, heart fluttering with something I couldn’t name.

That... was kind of cool.My Papa is terrifyingly amazing.

I leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek."I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, PAPA!" I declared, loudly and without shame.

Papa smiled, the kind of smile that made kingdoms nervous.

Then—

"And what about me, my precious?" Grandpa Thalein asked dramatically, clutching his chest like a swooning maiden.

I giggled, "I love you too, Grandpa."

He beamed like he’d just been handed the Empire, "More than him?"

"SHUT UP!" Papa said.

And so we walked on.

Behind us, Theon was still frozen—mouth slightly open, eyes wide.

And me?

I rested my head on Papa’s shoulder with a sigh. Being the daughter of a tyrant emperor was exhausting.

But maybe, just maybe...It was still worth it.