Chapter 66: Chapter 65. Planning Something
For the first time in both of her lives, Vivianne heard something that had never been spoken before. A secret buried deep within the royal family of Erengard, one that not even she, when she was the empress in her first life, had ever been told.
Morwenna’s voice is calm but steady as she begins, "The late emperor, your grandfather, Heinrich I de Erengard, had an illegitimate daughter with a palace maid, me. That was before he finally marked his empress and after the birth of Dietrich’s father, Heinrich II. When his wife was pregnant, he had the audacity to mate with a maid."
Vivianne’s breath caught. She had heard whispers of royal scandals before, but nothing like this. "Heinrich II was born two years before Morwenna," Ashkareth added quietly, glancing at his wife. "To hide the shame from the nobles, they made it seem as if the empress herself had given birth to her. The child was raised as royalty, though her true mother had already been cast out."
Morwenna nodded. "They used demon magic to hide my eyes," she said softly, her purple irises gleaming under the candlelight. "Purple eyes are rare; neither the emperor nor the empress had them, and they feared people would ask questions."
Vivianne listened in awe. The truth unraveled before her, piece by piece. The empire that prided itself on divine purity had been built on deception and stolen power. Just like how Dietrich tainted her in the most humiliating way possible.
"The palace maid was exiled not long after," Morwenna continued, her tone distant, almost nostalgic. "The empress saw her as a stain on her honor. But they couldn’t afford to lose me. Purple eyes meant a connection to the spirits, and that was a power they wanted to keep in the royal line."
The truth about Morwenna’s birth mother had long been buried beneath the empire’s history; she was a spirit bearer, a woman whose soul was deeply connected to the unseen world. That bloodline, though hidden, never truly disappeared.
What shocked Vivianne even more was learning that Roxanne’s mother, too, had been a spirit bearer. It explained everything, why Roxanne could see the spirits as clearly as Vivianne could, even though she herself isn’t one.
It wasn’t because of their mating bond or the mark they shared; Vivianne thought it was because of that. Dietrich had marked her once, yet he never gained the ability to see or sense the spirits.
The truth was simpler and far more powerful: Roxanne carried the blood of both the royal family and the spirit bearers. That rare combination is what allowed her to see through the veil between worlds, a gift that came not from love or the bond they shared but from the legacy written in her blood.
She smiled faintly. "That’s also why Dietrich found it so easy to deal with demons and dark forces. Because the royal palace has been dealing with them ever since I was born. That’s also how I fell in love with your father, Roxie."
"I was hiding to be one of the demon emissaries, the one who will do the magic. It was never the same demon after a year." Ashkareth added, "Then I saw her, a strong omega unlike others. She barked back; I was hooked from the start. Want me to tell how you were conceived, Roxie?" He teased his daughter.
"Shut up." Roxanne flushed immediately. The name "Roxie" slipped from her parent’s lips with such affection that Vivianne’s head turned toward her, curiosity sparking in her eyes.
"Roxie?" she repeated softly, almost teasing.
Ashkareth chuckled, ruffling his daughter’s dark hair. "Yes. That’s what we used to call her. Our little Roxie."
The terrifying Grand Duke of Borgia, the cold, commanding alpha who had slain whoever stood before her and ruled the North, is suddenly just a daughter again, squirming under her parents’ affectionate teasing.
Vivianne couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It’s so simple, so warm, something she had long forgotten. For a moment, she remembered what it felt like to have parents, to be loved without condition.
Morwenna noticed the faint longing in Vivianne’s eyes. Without hesitation, she stood, crossed the space between them, and sat beside her. Then, with a mother’s ease, she wrapped her arms around Vivianne and pulled her close.
"You’re our daughter too now," Morwenna said softly, her voice rich with warmth and kindness. "So don’t be shy. If you ever need a place to rest, to complain, or if Roxanne upsets you, come to us."
Vivianne froze for a moment, stunned. Then her chest tightened, and her vision blurred. No one had ever said something like that to her, not in her past life and not in this one. Her throat felt heavy as she whispered, trembling, "M... Mother."
Morwenna smiled gently and stroked her hair. "Yes," she said. "You can call me Mother too. It feels wonderful to finally have a daughter." She sighed softly, leaning back with a peaceful smile.
Roxanne gaped at her. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice a mix of disbelief and mock outrage.
Ashkareth laughed under his breath, clearly amused. "Face it, Roxie," he said, smirking. "She’s the favorite now." Roxanne crossed her arms and huffed, but her lips betrayed her, curling into a faint smile.
"Now, we talk about what I want," Roxanne said, her voice steady but sharp, after Vivianne had finally wiped away her tears.
Ashkareth’s eyes, dark and deep like molten coal, fixed on his daughter. He looked at her as the alpha, strong and unyielding. Roxanne didn’t flinch. This is proof that she’s becoming an alpha equal to him or maybe even surpassing him. "Just Borgia isn’t enough," he said quietly, yet every eye in the room turned to his words.
Roxanne had already told them about Dietrich’s betrayal: how he had hired the Black Covenant to kill her, how she had destroyed the entire guild in two nights, and how he had tried to poison her using a demon’s toxin. A poison meant to kill demons.
Ashkareth leaned forward, his voice low and proud. "You know you’re not going to die from that poison; you have half your mother’s blood in you. Mixed blood isn’t easy to kill."
Vivianne’s brow furrowed. She looked at Ashkareth, her voice soft but firm. "But she still felt it, every burn, every ache. I don’t like seeing her hurt." Giving him a soft pout.
For a moment, the sharpness in Ashkareth’s eyes softened. He let out a half-laugh that’s amused and tender all at once. "Oh, now I see why you speak like that, my wife," he said, turning to Morwenna with a light tone. "It’s really something to have a daughter."
Roxanne stared at her father, uncertainty flickering in her crimson gaze. "Really?" she asked, voice tight with disbelief.
"Well, you never acted adorable enough," Ashkareth said with a shrug, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. His tone was light, but the weight of his next words cut through the room. "Anyway, with your power and your wife being the Spirit Kings’ bearer, Borgia isn’t enough. Take this whole continent under your hand."
Roxanne’s jaw tightened. "That’s not as easy as you make it sound, Father." There’s irritation in her voice, but also that hint of restrained respect, the kind only a daughter who grew up under his shadow could hold.
Ashkareth leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. "Please," he said, waving a hand lazily. "I can deal with the demon race with a flick of my hand. I only let them run loose because I love my wife." His tone is casual, almost playful, as if commanding demons is as simple as ordering a cup of tea. Then again, he was the strongest demon king.
Morwenna sighed, shaking her head. "You love the chaos you cause, Ashkareth. Don’t make it sound like romance."
Roxanne pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ignore her parents’ exchange. "It’ll be easy for me to deal with Dietrich," she said sharply, "but what about the beastmen? Are we expected to engage with them as well? Together?"
Her words trailed off when she suddenly noticed Marvessa at the edge of the room. The former shadow knight stood silent, her head lowered, but her ears twitched ever so slightly. Realization struck Roxanne, and she turned toward her father, eyes narrowing.
"Wait," Roxanne said slowly, connecting the pieces.
Ashkareth smirked, clearly enjoying her dawning understanding. "Now you know," he said, leaning forward with that dangerous gleam of amusement in his crimson eyes. "There’s more at play than you think, my dear."
Then he turned his head toward Ian, who was still standing stiff near the doorway, looking unsure whether to bow or run. "Oh, young lord," Ashkareth said smoothly, "do you have wine? Something aged, preferably. This is going to be a long conversation."
Ian blinked. "Ah—yes, Your Majesty. Of course." He gestured hastily toward the butler. "Fetch the finest bottle from the cellar—the one from the year of my grandfather’s coronation."
The butler bowed deeply and hurried off. The room fell into a heavy silence for a moment, the kind that settles right before a storm. Roxanne leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied her father.
"You’re planning something," she said flatly. "Something big."
Ashkareth’s smirk deepened, though his gaze held the weight of centuries. "I’m only reminding you what you already know, daughter. You and your wife have the blood, the power, and the right to reshape this continent. Why stop at Borgia when the world itself is waiting?"