Chapter 3
Long, long ago-when dragons ruled the skies and warlords clashed in battles that shook the very foundation of the world-
...just kidding.
I wish.
That would at least make this situation feel cooler.
No, what I'm dealing with is much worse.
This is romance novel logic.
And if you've ever read one, you already know how this works. Logic is optional, consequences are delayed, and emotional damage is practically a requirement.
So, let me explain.
Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Eryndor was a king and a queen who were very much in love. The kind of love that inspires poetry, dramatic sighing, and the collective decision to ignore every red flag in existence.
They had a daughter-Princess Lysenne-and a kingdom that was thriving in that suspiciously perfect way that guarantees something is about to go very wrong.
And then, naturally, something did.
Enter: a maid.
Not just any maid, because that would be too reasonable. She was a fallen noble from a ruined dukedom, carrying just enough magic to be dangerous and just enough poor judgment to use it badly.
You see, there were two kinds of magic.
Good magic-regulated, practiced, and approved by the mages and archmages of the magic tower.
And then there was forbidden magic.
The kind that came with consequences.
The kind that had already destroyed her dukedom.
So naturally-
she brought it into the palace.
She saw the king and decided, with admirable confidence and deeply questionable morals, that love at first sight was a perfectly valid plan.
And instead of... speaking to him like a normal person-
she used a love potion.
Yes, a love potion.
Because communication is overrated.
An affair followed. A child was born.
That child-
unfortunately-
is me.
Cassiane.
The maid, in what I can only assume was a brief moment of clarity-or catastrophic guilt-brought the baby to the king after the potion wore off.
Which is bold.
Because there was only one way that was going to go.
Reality returned.
Consequences followed.
Everything collapsed.
There were arguments. Accusations. The kind of heartbreak that doesn't resolve neatly.
And the maid?
She killed herself.
Of course she did.
Because this story runs almost entirely on emotional damage and poor coping mechanisms.
Now, the king-burdened with guilt, but not enough to disrupt his very functional primary family-made a decision.
He acknowledged the child.
Which sounds noble.
Until you understand what that actually meant.
He removed the problem.
Me.
I was handed over to a trusted maid-Martha-and placed in an isolated part of the palace where I could exist without being seen, acknowledged, or remembered unless absolutely necessary.
Out of sight.
Out of mind.
Out of relevance.
I grew up there.
No family.
No identity.
No place in the world except a quiet corner meant for someone inconvenient.
The only constant I had was Martha.
Which, now that I think about it, is probably the only reason Cassiane didn't completely lose herself much earlier.
Unfortunately, that stability didn't last.
Because then-
Enter the prince.
From a neighboring kingdom, because clearly local problems weren't enough. He was everything a story like this requires: kind, capable, important, and destined to complicate everything.
And Cassiane-
fell in love with him.
Which, given the circumstances, was already a poor decision.
What made it worse was that he did not return those feelings.
Not even slightly.
Because he was in love with the princess.
Of course he was.
She was legitimate, loved, visible-
everything Cassiane was not.
And that is where things began to unravel.
Because Cassiane had a secret.
She had magic.
She didn't understand it. Didn't trust it. So she hid it.
But secrets, like most things in this story, did not stay hidden.
The truth came out.
About her birth.
Her mother.
Her place in the royal family.
And the heartbreak that followed led to collapse.
Her magic erupted violently.
Like it had been waiting.
And it turned dark.
She became what the story had already decided she would be, The villainess.
Banished from the kingdom for possessing forbidden magic, she left-
and built an army.
Revenge, resentment, destruction-she committed to all of it with impressive determination and absolutely no concern for survival.
Until, in the grand finale of predictable tragedy, she tried to kill the princess.
The prince intervened.
Heroic. Expected.
And Cassiane?
She died.
End of story. Lesson learned.
Audience satisfied.
-
And how do I know all of this?
Because I read it.
Every single frustrating, illogical, emotionally exhausting part of it.
The title-something along the lines of Saving My Princess from the Villainess with the Dark Heart (and Questionable Life Choices)-should have been my first warning.
And now-
I am Cassiane.
The so-called villainess.
I let out a slow breath, staring ahead as that settled in properly.
"This is unbelievable," I muttered. "I could have been anyone. A background character. A harmless extra. Someone selling snacks on the street. Peaceful. Irrelevant. Alive."
I paused.
"That was all I wanted."
The universe, as expected, did not respond.
Rude.
I exhaled again, pushing the frustration down because denial was not a long-term strategy.
Acceptance, however reluctant, would have to do.
I turned towards the woman standing nearby, who was watching me like she was debating every choice that had led her here.
Right. Martha.
"Martha?" I asked, just to confirm.
She blinked once, then crossed her arms.
"Took you long enough," she said. "You've been acting strange since I found you. Come inside before you catch a cold."
I nodded immediately. "Yes. Inside is good. I support that decision."
Mostly because I had no idea where I was going, and following the only competent person available seemed wise.
She turned and walked off.
I followed.
Carefully.
Because this gown was still actively trying to kill me.
I gathered the fabric as I walked, navigating the path with more focus than dignity.
"Also," I added, glancing down at it, "we need to talk about this dress."
"What about it?"
"It's a safety hazard."
"No."
"I nearly died twice today."
"What do you want?" she shot back. "To change in the middle of the garden?"
I considered it - Briefly.
"...Watch me."
"Don't you dare-"
I sighed, adjusting the fabric again as I continued after her, because apparently survival in this world required compromise.
Because I had just entered a story where I was destined to die.
And this time-
I had no intention of following the script.