How The Princess Rewrote Her Tragic Ending - Chapter 115

“Your Majesty?”

Yvonne knocked on the glass door as she peeked out at the moonlit balcony, where the Emperor’s unmistakable figure stood, arms over the white banisters. Upon hearing the chirp of his lovely mistress, he turned around, his face glowing under the moon’s grace.

Even then, Yvonne didn’t find him any more attractive, judging by all the sins he had committed and kept secretive all this time.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” she asked gently as she stepped out on the balcony, blinking under the dim glow. What was she even doing here? After that outburst in the dining room, Yvonne wondered if she should go check up on His Majesty. Not because she cared about him or his feelings, of course. She went up to his chambers because he was in a vulnerable position right now, and she wanted to test if he was defenseless enough to reveal some of his veiled past.

“I’m fine,” the Emperor groaned and put a hand over his eyes and rubbed. “Admittedly, a bit upset about Elora. Usually, she’s an absolute dear. I can’t seem to understand why she acted like such a spoiled child today. Perhaps, may I have pampered her too much without even realizing?”

Yvonne sighed and joined the Emperor next to the banister, gazing out at the wide garden that stretched before their eyes. Heavenly fragrance of flowers and exotic plants enveloped them as the two stood alone under the night’s light.

“Perhaps,” Yvonne mumbled as she leaned her head on the Emperor’s shoulder, “she’s insecure.”

The Emperor jerked. “Why do you think so?”

Yvonne breathed and watched the air before her turn into mist. The Emperor watched her trying to touch the vapor and smile fondly at his silly girl.

“I believe Elora’s lived her whole life trying to achieve the title of Empress under the constant pressure of her family,” Yvonne said quietly. “She’s been sculpted into her own version of the perfect Empress time and time again, that she has almost mixed her true identity with this Empress in question. I have to say, it was a bit harsh of you to bring her down like that, though.”

The Emperor groaned and rubbed his face again. “What was I to do? Let her live amongst those wild, baseless delusions? It was either that or supporting her daft mindset.”

Yvonne linked her arm through the Emperor’s. “But still, you were too hard on her.”

The Emperor smiled sadly and put a warm hand over his mistress’ arm. Yvonne tried to hide the goosebumps she got from that one touch, but then her plan would be behind bars.

“Your Majesty,” Yvonne gulped, gathering her courage, “are you grieved by the Princess’s death?”

Noticeably, the Emperor stiffened.

“Of course I am,” he replied without any genuine feeling, almost like he was reading off of a pre-written script. “She was my daughter. ”

“Indeed, she was.” Yvonne nodded, despite knowing the actual truth. “May I ask, if it won’t offend you, about the Princess’s past?”

Yvonne could feel the tension in the air. She knew the Emperor was contemplating denying her request, but if he did…what would that imply?

The Emperor probably reached the same conclusion, because he eventually sighed and tightened his grip on his mistress’s hand.

“Talking about the princess- my daughter, I mean- is a bit of a sensitive topic for me to talk about at the moment, my love,” he said as his eyes searched the vast gardens below.

“But I’d really, really, really like to know!” Yvonne pouted, looking dearly into her husband’s eyes. Under her fatal charm, the Emperor faltered and his resolve wavered.

“Fine, my love,” he muttered inexplicably. “Ask away as you please.”

Yvonne smiled, sensing her success. “Alright, then. What was Her Highness’s birthday?”

It appeared as if this was a difficult question for someone who pretended to be the princess’s father. He was truly stumped as he rubbed his chin, pretending to think about it.

“Hmm… I believe it was near the end of Taerel…?”

She smiled. “No, it’s the 31st of Zula. She was born on New Year’s Eve.”

The Emperor nodded as if he had known all along. “I see. I must’ve gotten it all muddled up.”

Yvonne chuckled inwardly. Of course he wouldn’t have known. Why would he keep track of such dates, when he had looked after the child of his much loathed twin brother. That’s right. The Emperor was a twin, and the alikeness between him and his demised brother was uncanny.

Yvonne looked thoughtfully into her deceiving husband’s eyes and wondered how this man could be so spiteful, so evil yet so, so calm about killing his brother and his family. As if he had done nothing wrong.

He had killed someone he had grown up with for his whole life for a measly throne. A throne! How could one be so materialistic?

Yvonne shuddered at the thought.

“Are you cold?” the Emperor asked suddenly.

Yvonne shook her head. “Not at all. Your Majesty, may I ask another question?”

He nodded, though he seemed uncertain.

“It’s unrelated to the princess,” she whispered, staring coldly into the Emperor’s eyes, “but how did your brother die?”

“W-What?” The Emperor stepped back under the intensity of Yvonne’s gaze.

Yvonne smiled and leaned back, letting the Emperor breathe. When he was finally stable again, she persisted.

“How did your brother die? I’m sure the others know already, but since I’m new, I often find myself wondering about it.”

The Emperor was shocked. He blinked rapidly, thinking about how to answer her question. Yvonne smiled, wondering what he would come up with.

“M-My brother, Barion,” the Emperor began, “died the very day his wife- I mean, my wife- was assassinated. It was a sorrowful ordeal, and the whole Empire remained in mourning for more than a few months. She was a lovely woman, Irabella. Oftentimes than not, I spend many sleepless nights thinking about her.”

Yvonne clutched her husband’s arm tightly, wondering how his sudden slip of tongue gave it all away. If a naïve woman had been in her stead, she would have dismissed the seemingly misspoken words as a mere slip of tongue. But Yvonne knew better, and she understood very well how easy it was to mix all the facts up.

“Barion died on an overseas trip to Clatoise, hence our sour relations,” he muttered, his eyes staring into the night sky. “For years, they tried to convince me that Barion had, in fact, not been assassinated in their vicinity, but to no avail. I knew what I knew. My poor brother and my poor wife…” he muttered and shaded his eyes with the shelter of his hand, pretending to spare some tears over their sad deaths.

Yvonne almost scoffed at his acting. What a sore loser, she thought bitterly.

“It’s alright, my love,” she sighed and cupped his face with her hands, inwardly puking at her seemingly loving gestures. “Lest you forget, you still have me. I’ll always be by your side.”

The Emperor smiled fondly at her and suddenly hugged her. Yvonne froze and let her arms fall awkwardly to her sides, not knowing what to do with them. The Emperor stank of sweat and alcohol. Yvonne hadn’t seen him consume any liquor at the dining table; had he some stashed in his chambers?

Eventually, the Emperor released Yvonne from her torture and stood her back to arm’s length, gazing dreamily into her ice blue eyes.

“You really are my one comfort, dear,” he muttered before reaching in to kiss her.

It was the most traumatizing experience Yvonne had ever had.

She had no choice but to go along with the abrupt kiss, since taking the initiative to break free from it would mean that Yvonne was indicating some sort of dislike towards the Emperor. As she loathingly kissed him back, she hoped to any and all Gods up there to not let him take her to bed. That would be the last straw for her.

Awkwardly for her, The Emperor grabbed Yvonne by the hair and pulled her in by the waist while smothering her. Yvonne controlled the urge not to gag, and wondered why he tasted like absolute filth. How long since he last cleaned his mouth?

The whole ordeal lasted for a good while, and those few minutes which seemed like hours would be embedded in the deepest, darkest corners of her mind.

“I love you, my dear,” he exclaimed passionately as he finally let go of his mistress. “I love you so very much.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Yvonne knew it was her cue to say ‘I love you’ back to him, but he just could not bring herself to. Her tongue stopped working even if she tried to. “But I bet you say that to all of the others as well.”

“Fear not, darling,” the Emperor laughed heartily. “For these whispers of love are reserved for you and you only.”

Yvonne laughed back. Oh, how the bear had tangled in her trap.

“I wish making you my Empress was easy,” he muttered as he leaned against her, sighing. “If it was, I would’ve made it official with a tap of my finger. But I’m afraid I have the others to consider. Thank you, my love, for your words of comfort tonight. I wish I had the freedom to spend nights with you similar to these every single day.”

Please, Yvonne thought, I wish you never get that freedom, or else you’ll make my life hell for me. I’m uncomfortable enough as is.

“Good night, then, Your Majesty,” Yvonne coo’ed as she squeezed his arms. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The Emperor kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll wait days and days again for you, my love.. See you tomorrow.”