The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 100

The morning sun was soft on her windows, but Beatrice felt none of its warmth.

Francois was already in her chambers by the time she sat up, a tray in his hands and Elisha darting playfully between his boots. He set the tray on the table beside her bed and offered a crooked smile.

"If you don’t eat, you’ll faint before the king finishes his first sentence."

"That’s optimistic," Beatrice murmured.

"No," he said, sitting at the edge of her bed. "That’s strategy."

She let him feed her a bite of toast, though she barely tasted it. Elisha pawed at the hem of her blanket, then leapt onto the sheets, promptly claiming Francois’ lap like it was a throne. He gave the kitten an exaggerated scowl.

"Traitor."

"She’s always known where the real power lies," Beatrice said faintly.

He sobered after a moment. "The king and queen made their decision. It will be announced before sundown."

"You know what it is?" Beatrice looked up sharply.

He shook his head. "Only that it’s final."

Beatrice nodded, her throat tight. Final.

She spent the rest of the morning calculating and rehearsing arguments, memorizing the trajectory of every consequence. If they said execution, she would intervene. Or try.

She had plans. Words. Alternatives and pleas. And if those failed...

She’d find another way.

Luncheon with the Da Villes followed just after noon. Only Magnus and their parents were present, along with two stewards and a pair of stone-faced guards who lingered by the doors.

Conrad raised his glass immediately. "To justice."

"To victory," Ethel added, spearing a piece of roast duck.

Beatrice kept her gaze low. The table was heavy with food she couldn’t stomach. Magnus looked equally tense, chewing in silence. But their parents were practically glowing.

"The palace hasn’t seen this much order in months," Conrad said. "Clean decisions. Strong leadership."

Ethel nodded, then added with a careless laugh, "And with fewer complications in the court, perhaps certain alliances can finally move forward as intended."

Beatrice shot her a look. The steward paused slightly, pouring wine with a slower hand. Ethel, realizing, gave a sweet smile.

"I mean only that the path ahead is clear now."

Beatrice excused herself soon after. Magnus followed.

They walked through the lower halls in silence until they reached a quieter wing. Beatrice stopped.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You’re enjoying this," she said.

Magnus sighed. "I’m relieved. That’s different."

"They will die."

"They tried to ruin us," he snapped. "Johanna pushed you into a bedframe and nearly ended everything. That wasn’t some noble mistake."

Beatrice wrapped her arms around herself.

"You’re hesitating," Magnus said. "And I get it. You want to be merciful. But the court won’t remember mercy. They’ll remember if you falter. They’ll remember if Francois falters."

She looked at him sharply.

"You think if you plead for her, you’ll walk out of this untouched? That he’ll still look at you the same way?"

Beatrice sighed and said nothing.

Back in her chambers, time moved too quickly.

A knock came a few moments later. "His Majesty requests all parties to gather in the throne room within the hour."

The air thickened as the halls filled. Guards escorted the Lockharts in chains. Johanna looked hollow, her eyes wild and dark. Her parents stood tall beside her, their posture rigid.

On the other hand, the Da Villes were given seats front row.

Beatrice and Francois entered together. Lila was already seated, pale and stiff.

The king rose.

"The crimes committed against the crown and its future queen have been weighed in full. Treason, subterfuge, and conspiracy against the realm cannot be met with leniency."

Beatrice’s hands gripped the side of her chair.

Queen Cecile stood beside her husband. "After full deliberation, the crown has deemed the punishment fit to the weight of betrayal. House Lockhart shall be executed at dawn tomorrow."

Gasps rippled through the court. Beatrice opened her mouth, but Magnus reached over, clamping her hand down.

She stayed silent, while Johanna screamed.

"You bastards! You lied!" She thrashed against the guards. "It was planted! You planted it!"

Guards tightened their grip. Her mother sobbed, her father barked protest after protest, but no one listened. They were dragged out immediately.

Beatrice didn’t move. Her body had gone cold.

Back in her room, she paced frantically.

"It wasn’t supposed to go this far," she said aloud.

Francois arrived minutes later, Lila trailing behind with tear-streaked cheeks.

"I have to stop this," Beatrice said, breathless. "I have to tell the truth."

Francois stepped forward. "Beatrice—"

"No. I can’t let them die."

She turned and ran.

Through the halls, past the guards. Lila called after her, Francois followed fast. She reached the royal chambers.

"Please," she gasped. "I need to speak with the king."

The guards hesitated, but then the door opened.

King Marshall and Queen Cecile stood inside, alone.

"Your Majesty," she said. "Please. The Lockharts—" Her throat clenched as the words stopped short.

She tried again. "My family, they—"

Pain seared her lungs. Her mouth moved, but no words came after.

Francois rushed to her side.

"Beatrice!"

She dropped to her knees. The last thing she saw was the queen rushing forward and Francois shouting her name.

Then everything went dark.

*******

Beatrice woke to bells.

Not soft morning bells, not the call of service or court.

These were tolling. Heavy, measured, and final.

Her eyes snapped open. Lila stood near her bedside, her face streaked with fresh tears.

"You’re too late," she whispered.

"What?"

"They’ve done it."

Beatrice tried to sit up.

"No," Lila said, trying to hold her back. "It’s over."

Beatrice collapsed against the pillows, her breath ragged.

Outside, the bells tolled again. Three slow chimes, one for each name.

Beatrice closed her eyes. And this time, sleep did not come to rescue her from it.

The silence that followed the bells was the kind that dug into marrow. Beatrice couldn’t move. Her body felt like it had been filled with lead.

Princess Lila sat with her head bowed, one hand curled tight around her wrist like she was anchoring them both to something that hadn’t yet drowned.

"I tried to stop it," Beatrice whispered, voice dry, hoarse. "I went to them. I tried."

"I know you did."

"They didn’t believe me." Her chest tightened. "No! It’s worse, they didn’t hear me."

"They heard the court. And the court wanted blood."

Lila’s voice cracked at the end. She turned away quickly, brushing the back of her hand across her eyes.

Beatrice stared at the ceiling, feeling its weight above her like judgment. Three bells, three executions. Three names that would be carved into her bones whether she deserved them or not.

"Was she afraid?" she asked quietly. "When they took her?"

Lila nodded. "Terrified. She screamed all the way to the steps. She cursed the Da Villes, cursed you. And cursed the king and queen."

Beatrice squeezed her eyes shut. She felt every syllable like a bruise.

Francois entered sometime later. He didn’t knock, he simply stood there at the door for a long moment, watching her with a kind of hollow helplessness she’d never seen in his face before.

"You should’ve stayed in bed," he said gently.

"You should’ve stopped them."

He flinched. The line between his brows deepened.

"I couldn’t override the crown."

"You’re part of it," she snapped. Her voice was frayed and brittle. "You could’ve argued harder. You could’ve delayed it."

"And then what?" he asked, stepping forward. "Buy them a few days? A week? The judgment was passed, Beatrice. No one wanted to see it reversed."

"I did."

His expression twisted with something close to shame. "You were unconscious."

"Convenient." She looked away.

That silenced them both. Lila shifted uncomfortably but didn’t speak.

"I’ll leave you alone," Francois said quietly after a while. He closed the door behind him without another word.

Elisha had curled into a tight ball by the hearth, unmoving. The sun outside had risen high and sharp. But the light felt wrong and too stark. Too loud against the silence in the room.

Beatrice dragged herself out of bed. She crossed the room slowly until she reached her desk. She pulled out her journal and opened it to a clean page.

Her hands trembled as she picked up the pen. But when she went to write Johanna’s name, the ink splattered. And the page stayed blank.

She set the pen down. This time, she let herself cry, letting out deep, breathless sobs that stole the air from her lungs and bent her spine.

She cried until her knees gave out. Until she sank to the rug, fists pressed against her mouth to muffle the sound.

Eventually, Lila returned with a new cup of tea. Neither of them mentioned the cold one sitting by the window, untouched.

Outside, the bells tolled again, as if the kingdom was reminding her that history had been written. That there was no ink left for edits.

Later that evening, a knock came again. This time, it was Lily.

"The queen requests your presence," she said, her voice soft and uncertain.

Beatrice rose on instinct as Lily helped her into a dark gown. She didn’t ask questions. Just tied the buttons slowly and handed her a veil.

She walked through the palace like she was already a ghost. When she entered the solar, Queen Cecile sat alone.

"Come," the queen said.

Beatrice crossed the threshold and lowered herself to the seat across from her.

"You asked for me?"

"I wanted to ensure you were... recovering," the queen said.

Beatrice met her gaze. "From what? The concussion or the guilt?"

"You did not pass sentence." 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"But I didn’t stop it."

The queen stood and crossed to the window. "What you feel now, keep it. It’ll shape the kind of queen you’ll become."

"I don’t want to be that kind of queen," Beatrice said.

"You will," Queen Cecile murmured. "If you survive long enough."

Beatrice rose, her fingers tightening at her sides. "And what about surviving this?"

Queen Cecile turned to face her.

"That is your burden to carry."