Author note: as you might notice, this webnovel is very loosely inspired by the Roman Empire. However, my understanding of Rome is very shallow and limited, as such this book is better interpreted as a separate fictional world. Hence the name Creon empire,
Due to my own personal belief, the religion in this novel shall be Christianity.
My apologies for any unfulfilled expectation.
I am just a student who loves writing romantic webnovels.
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Why of course, the marriage. Why of course, the marriage. Why of course, the marriage. My mind swims around, the confusion getting to me. So many events occurred today. The scene of my father’s death repeats and my mind stops swimming. Stop dreaming, Lillai… no. Laelia. Every single word spoken by his highness Adelphus repeats in my mind, and any sort of expectation burrowed inside my heart vanishes.
“Please, continue.” I prod Titus to continue explaining, and yet, his expression merely darkens. The hesitation and subtle shame makes me concerned. Whomever I am marrying. It cannot be anyone a noble lady, much less a princess dreams of marrying. That much, I can tell.
“Forgive me, your highness, it has been a long day, I will allow you some time to rest.” Titus excuses himself, as though he is fleeing from a mistake. He sprints so quickly, the sound of his footsteps is no longer audible.
Now silent once more. The unsettling void creeps in. Lillai Amor. Daughter of a traitor. Your mother would be proud. Traitor. The daughter who takes after me. Lillai “Laelia.” The word escapes my mouth all too suddenly, snapping me out of the voices in my head. “Who are you? No… who am I now?”
The absence of my familiar home naggs at the corner of my mind. Don’t remember. I toss the memory away. And yet, it comes back, like a blizzard that cannot be outrun. It returns. The sound of hatred, the first refrain of vengeance.
“Lillia Amor, my daughter, you take after me the most.”
His voice repeats in my mind. I close my eyes. It feels as though my father is here in this room. Once opened, all my eyes see are the poppies on the wall. My destiny, my curse, my purpose of being now. The reason my head does not roll on the ground along with the others. Stable your breath… Lillai. Stable it.
I tell myself. What is gone, is gone.
But, the floodgates of my eyes still break wide open. A wail belonging to a girl I do not know, lashing out of my own throat. Ah, this still suffocating throat. I barely knew him. Barely knew him beyond his title as my father. And yet, this deep sense of sadness, this deep mourning of what could have been, could not dissipate.
Father…. Father… Don’t miss me too much. Where I am going, you should not be.
My hand clenches, only to notice the key still within my palms.
The murderous thought in my mind soon becomes replaced by the sentence I had forgotten all too soon. “Read the book inside the locked box.” I clench my hand again to ensure the key is still there. The box… I scan the table, searching for the box in question. There it is, a box, so elegant and simple, it seems out of place from this overly vibrant room.
I hesitate for a second before inserting the key into the box. Within the box, that is nearly the size of my head, lies a book made of parchment (processed animal skin). My hands brush through the plain cover, its impressive handwriting like flowing water. No title adorns it, safe for the word, “Laelia Asiaticus.”
Inside, I find the information I had been withheld from, organized neatly. This book must have been written by his highness Adelphus. Laelia Asiaticus. The granddaughter of the previous emperor of the Creon empire. Spared from execution due to the current emperor being indebted to her late mother. Her illness was the one reason he decided to grant that pardon. She lives under the supervision of several guards, all of which have mysteriously disappeared ever since. No portraits exist of her. Her age, the same as mine, 15 years old. Eyes of amber, hair blazing as the sun. My eyes stop reading in horror. The symmetry. The overdone coincidence of this all.
Almost… as though someone had planned this all along.
I force myself to continue reading, amber eyes have always been a sign of royalty, but my mother has always said that this eye color exists due the intermarriage between the royal family and my paternal family early on. It must be a coincidence…..
Laelia Asiaticus… The girl who resembles me so much. Condemned due to lineage. The girl I will be from now on. All the information on the next page is about the complex history of her lineage. The lineage that has been overthrown by the uprising held by the current emperor… though both are related by blood. Dangerous. That is the first thought that crosses through my mind. This identity is so dangerous. How much was Adelphus risking by asking to reinstate her into the family, into the line of succession?
The correct response to this kind of lineage, would be intermarriage or extermination. But, the current emperor decided to adopt Laelia instead of making her his daughter in law. This adoption, if gone wrong, could mean the reinstatement of the direct line of the previous dynasty…
How did this decision even come to pass? How on earth-
My eyes trail on the line, on the line seemingly so harmless but written like a death sentence, “to be engaged to the heir of the Sicant tribe.” The barbarian tribes? I swallow a bit too hard. No tears form, but I can feel my throat burning with the want to just surrender and cry. I knew this deal was too good to be true. I know, my escape from the death penalty could not have been to marry him. That man. As violent as he is gentle. Adelphus Asiaticus.
I calm my breath. Intermarriage between the barbaric tribes has always been a diplomatic method used to discourage invasions. There is no surprise to it. The emperor must love his daughters, the two princesses, both legitimate under different mothers very dearly. That is why I am being brought back here. As the pawn piece to be discarded. The poppies on the wall fill my eyes. There must be more to this.
No description on who this heir is. No name. Not even his initial. The rest of the book revolves around my future schedule and the people I may acquaint myself with. The skill set I am designated to master. As expected of a
bride to be married into the barbaric tribes, the art of archery and sword fighting I was never allowed to touch, even as the daughter of my father, exists in the schedule. The remainder are things I have already learned and mastered, poetry, philosophy, the lyre, embroidery, domestic management, dance, the scripture and in private, medicine…
I can’t breathe. My mind is in a mess. What will happen to me? My life. A single tear drips down my right cheek and stains the book. Oh no. I hurry to put the book away, back into the box, and locks it, hooking the key into the chain of my necklace hidden under my clothes. But it is too late, two more drops have already stained the page.
A servant knocks on the door. It is my personal attendant, I believe her name to be, Janae. Her shoulder length dark brown locks creates a demure impression alongside her honey colored eyes. If my mind is in a better state, perhaps I would have tried to solicit more conversation, but it is all together too clouded.
Before I know it, I am whisked to the bathing area. It is so foreign, the customs here. The heated floors, the three chambers simply for the simple purpose of bathing, the heated pools, the steam room, the half an hour’s massage. My mind drifts off to my schedule. So packed with classes- so much instructor- wait a second. From within my memory, I recall the name of my history and political and martial arts instructor- Adelphus Asiaticus.
I abruptly stand up, ruining the red manicure made out of seashell extracts, at the sight of my shocked attendant, my mind collects itself enough to remain seating. The attendants quickly rectified the mistake, and I finish my preparation. The attendants in charge of my clothing, hairstyle and makeup having long finished their work. Finally. After all those hours. Finally I am done. Instead of being refreshed, I end up being more and more exhausted. But, at the very least, I still have a life to feel exhausted over, I am still alive.
That thought brings me regret as soon as I think of it.
“Are you done?” A voice calls from the door, panic hits me. Why is there a man in this section of the palace?
“Marcus. This is my sister’s dwelling, not the military barracks. Behave. Or I will... make you.” I hear Adelphus’s voice and soon my emotions come back to its tranquil state. Not an intruder. At the very least I am sure of that.
Half curious, and half compelled, I open the door leading to outside only to be met by a grumpy looking man. I could see his arrogance from his tall nose. Those eyes that look as though he is perpetually angry. Shaggy brown hair, and light green eyes. Yet none of the gentleness. He looks at me as though ready to slash my body into pieces, then kneels down, “Marcus Servialinus, At your service.”
I stare wide-eyed. The emblem from his clothing gives away his identity. The praetorian guard rarely gets assigned to a person. At norm, they are usually there to provide background security. Unless it is the emperor himself who requires protection, or important personages such as officials or imperial lineage who are in risk of danger.
“Surprised?” His highness Adelphus prompts me back to reality, I can barely see the impatience this time, amber eyes so aloof, so emotionless, I am sure my ears heard his following line wrongly, “This is my gift towards you.”
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