Too Lazy to be a Villainess-Chapter 409: When the Crown Learned to Bleed
[Lavinia’s POV—Imperial Palace—Weeks Later] 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦
Time stopped obeying me.
Days blurred into nights, and nights into something hazy and endless. The world I once commanded with a single word now moved around my bed—quiet, careful, afraid.
I hated that most of all.
My strength bled away in fragments.
Some mornings I woke with fire in my veins, magic surging so violently that the healers backed away in fear. Other days, I could barely lift my fingers without my vision darkening at the edges.
The twins were growing.
And they were hungry.
Not for food.
For me.
"She’s burning too much life force," one healer whispered behind a veil. "The divine contract... the bond with Marshi... the crown’s magic—it’s all reacting."
Haldor never left my side.
Not once.
He slept in the chair beside my bed, armor discarded, sword leaning uselessly against the wall. When I woke screaming from pain, he was there. When I faded, his voice anchored me back.
When I grew angry—furious at my weakness—he let me break things.
Including him.
"You’re not allowed to leave the room," he said one morning, his voice firm but shaking underneath.
I glared at him. "I am the Empress."
"You are my wife," he replied softly. "And the mother of my children."
Silence fell between us.
I turned my face away. "I was never meant to be fragile."
Haldor stood, knelt beside my bed, and gently took my hand.
"You were never meant to carry everything alone," he said. "Not the empire. Not the crown. Not this."
My fingers curled around his.
"I’m scared," I admitted.
The word tasted foreign. I had never allowed it space inside me before. His grip tightened. "So am I."
For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke, Then—inevitably—I sniffed.
Haldor stiffened instantly. "Oh no."
I blinked at him. "What do you mean oh no?"
"That tone," he said carefully. "That sniff. That look. That’s the same look you had when you ordered three nobles executed because their shoes annoyed you."
. . .
. . .
. . .
"Ha. Ha. Ha....What a lame joke," I muttered flatly.
He chuckled despite himself and gently brushed my hair back. "I just wanted to see you smile and you’re allowed to be scared," he said softly. "You’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to—"
"I want soup," I interrupted.
He paused. "Soup?"
"Hot," I added firmly. "With herbs. And bread. And if it doesn’t taste right, I might cry and threaten someone."
A corner of his mouth twitched. "I’ll alert the guards."
I glared. "I’m serious."
"I know," he said solemnly. "Very serious imperial cravings."
I tried to hold my composure.
I failed.
Tears welled up suddenly, hot and humiliating. "I don’t know why I’m like this," I whispered. "Yesterday I wanted to burn the Western archives. Today I want soup, and your arm hurts my back, and—why is your breathing so loud?"
He froze. "...I’m breathing?"
"Yes," I snapped. "Aggressively."
He leaned closer anyway, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me carefully against his chest. "I’m sorry," he murmured. "I’ll breathe quieter."
I laughed through my tears, the sound breaking into something fragile. My face pressed against his armorless chest, and his hand began to rub slow circles against my back—steady, grounding.
"They’re kicking again," I whispered.
His entire body went still, "They are?"
I nodded, guiding his hand lower. "Here."
He hesitated for exactly one second—then placed his palm there, reverent as a prayer. Something fluttered.
Then another.
His breath hitched so sharply I felt it vibrate through him.
"Oh," he breathed. "They’re... they’re strong."
"Of course they are," I said weakly. "They’re ours. Unfortunately."
He laughed softly, eyes shining. "Two of them," he murmured. "Can you imagine?"
"Yes," I said dryly. "They’ll be terrifying."
He lowered his forehead to mine. "They’ll be loved."
The words cracked something open in me.
"I don’t want to fail them," I whispered. "I don’t want to fail you."
"You won’t," he said instantly. "And if you fall, I’ll be there. If you rage, I’ll stand with you. If you cry—"
"I cry a lot now," I warned.
"I know," he smiled. "I’m prepared. I’ve already forgiven you for yelling at me because the pillow was ’judging you.’"
"It was," I insisted.
He kissed my temple, then my forehead, lingering like he was afraid the moment might slip away.
"You’re still you," he said quietly. "Crown or no crown. Monster or not."
I closed my eyes.
"And you," I said, voice softer, steadier, "are still mine."
His arms tightened around me, protective, unyielding.
"Always," he whispered.
For a moment, the empire disappeared. There was no throne. No danger. No fear. Just two people holding the future between them.
And for the first time since I took the throne, the weight I carried didn’t feel heavy at all.
It felt like home.
***
[Lavinia’s POV—Premature Delivery Night]
Time did not pass.
Time betrayed me.
One moment I was arguing with Papa about why I was absolutely not naming one of the twins after him—and the next—
PAIN.
Sharp. Violent. Betraying. I gasped, gripping the edge of the bed.
"...Haldor."
He looked up instantly. "Yes?"
"I think—" Another wave hit.
"I think—"
I screamed, "I THINK YOUR CHILDREN ARE TRYING TO RIP THEIR WAY OUT OF ME."
. . .
. . .
. . .
An utter silence, and then chaos exploded.
"CALL THE HEALERS!" Papa roared somewhere."WHY IS SHE SWEARING ALREADY?!" Sera yelled."I TOLD YOU THIS WOULD HAPPEN!" Rey snapped."I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!" Haldor panicked.
I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down to my level.
"You," I hissed through clenched teeth, "YOU DID THIS TO ME."
"I—what—Lavi—"
BAD ANSWER.
I grabbed his hair.
Hard.
"H—HaldOR—!" he yelped.
"YOU," I screamed, pulling harder, "PUT TWO CHILDREN IN ME—TWO—AND NOW THEY’RE EARLY AND I AM IN PAIN, AND IF I DIE I WILL HAUNT YOU—"
"YOU’RE NOT DYING!" he shouted desperately. "PLEASE DON’T HAUNT ME!"
Another contraction hit. I shrieked and clutched his hair again. "WHY IS THE PAIN COMING IN WAVES?! WHO DESIGNED THIS?!"
Rey muttered, "The gods."
"I WILL KILL THEM NEXT," I roared.
Papa burst in, sword drawn. "WHO IS HURTING MY DAUGHTER?"
I pointed at Haldor without hesitation.
"HIM."
Papa raised his sword. Haldor screamed, "WAIT—THIS ISN’T THE TIME—"
Papa stopped only because the head healer tackled him. "SHE’S IN LABOR, NOT UNDER ATTACK!"
"I AM UNDER ATTACK," I snarled. "FROM THE INSIDE."
Haldor knelt beside me, voice shaking, eyes wet. "I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Squeeze my hand."
"I DON’T WANT YOUR HAND." I grabbed his hair again. "I WANT YOU TO FEEL THIS."
"I FEEL IT," he cried. "I FEEL EVERYTHING."
"GOOD."
Another scream tore out of me, raw and furious.
"I SWEAR," I panted, "WHEN THIS IS OVER—WHEN I AM DONE—YOU ARE NEVER TOUCHING ME AGAIN—"
"Yes," he nodded rapidly. "Absolutely."
"—UNTIL I DECIDE OTHERWISE."
"...Yes," he said again, weaker.
I sobbed suddenly, tears spilling.
"I’m scared," I whispered.
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine despite the chaos. "I know. I’m terrified too. But you’re the strongest person I know. You always survive."
I clenched my jaw.
"Then you better survive too," I said darkly, "because if I go through this and wake up alone—"
"I won’t leave," he said instantly. "Not now. Not ever. Pull my hair again if you need to."
I didn’t hesitate.
The room was madness.
Orders shouted. Magic flared. Papa pacing like a caged beast. Sera was crying and laughing at the same time. Rey yelling medical instructions while dodging Papa’s murderous glares.
And me—screaming. Cursing. Breaking. Fighting. Bringing life into the world like I did everything else.
Violently.
Fiercely.
Unapologetically.
And through it all, Haldor stayed on his knees—hair ruined, dignity destroyed, eyes never leaving mine—because if I was going through hell, he was going with me.
Together.
***
[Delivery Chamber — Later]
Unapologetically.
And through it all, Haldor stayed on his knees—hair ruined, dignity destroyed, eyes never leaving mine—because if I was going through hell, he was going with me.
Together.
Another contraction slammed into me like a blade.
"NOW," the healer shouted. "Your Majesty—push!"
"I AM PUSHING," I screamed. "DO YOU THINK I’M DOING THIS FOR FUN?!"
Haldor’s voice cracked beside me. "Lavi—look at me. Look at me. Breathe. Just—just like we practiced."
"I NEVER PRACTICED THIS," I snarled, fingers crushing his sleeve. "I PRACTICED EXECUTIONS—"
"—THEN EXECUTE THIS PAIN," he pleaded. "PLEASE."
I screamed again, raw and furious, the sound tearing from somewhere deeper than rage.
And then—A cry.
Sharp. Small. Alive.
The room froze.
The healer’s voice broke into wonder. "The first child... has arrived."
For one heartbeat, the pain disappeared.
"...What?" I gasped.
Another cry followed, louder this time, indignant, furious at the world.
"And the second," the healer said breathlessly. "By the gods... both are alive."
The room exploded.
"They’re crying!"
"Praise the gods!"
"Get the blankets—now!"
Haldor’s face collapsed into something I had never seen before—pure, shattered relief. Tears spilled freely as he laughed and sobbed at the same time.
"They’re here," he whispered. "Lavi... they’re here."
My chest heaved.
"Let me see them," I croaked. "Let me—let me see my kids."
The healer moved quickly, lifting two tiny, wriggling bundles. I stretched my trembling arms. Just one look. That’s all I wanted.
Just one—The world tilted. The ceiling blurred. The sounds warped, distant and wrong.
"Haldor..." I whispered.
His face went white. "Lavi?"
"I—I can’t—" My fingers slipped from the sheets. "I can’t feel my—"
Darkness rushed in like a tide.
"No—no, stay with me," Haldor cried. "LAVINIA—LOOK AT ME—"
My eyes fluttered. The last thing I saw was panic—real panic—on every face in the room.
"Healers!"
"She’s losing consciousness!"
"Stabilize her—now!"
Haldor’s voice broke completely.
"DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE ME," he shouted. "YOU PROMISED—YOU PROMISED—"
Then—Nothing.
Silence swallowed me whole.
Behind me, two newborn cries filled the chamber. Ahead of me—Darkness. And an empire, a family, a husband—holding their breath, waiting for their monster queen to wake up once more.
