The Story of a Has Been Villainess Part 2

Miyandrel Celeste is no more. As she finishes her manipulation of the paperwork, her quill scratching against the parchment, she realizes how far gone she has plunged. The grandeur of her past life, where she was once a mighty princess slated to be the next ruler of the Empire, now feels like a fading dream.

She ought to be the first Empress in the history of the realm, a destiny foretold by blood and lineage. Yet, because of betrayals and the unpredictable twists in her life, she has ended up the loser in this grand game of thrones. The taste of bitterness clings to every thought as she contemplates the stark contrast between what should have been and what is.

Due to her own ambitions, she has been dragged to the backwaters territory of the Dromastus Household—a realm far removed from the splendor of the imperial court. Now, she is Mia Dromastus, the normal wife of Baron Randel Eir Dromastus. The weight of her title is a far cry from the regal one she was destined for. Her fingers trace the edges of the forged documents, sealing her fate as a woman tied to the whims of a lesser lord.

The background story she has crafted is her armor, shielding her true identity from the prying eyes of those who might remember the once-mighty princess. A merchant's daughter who supposedly found her way into Randel's arms, a tale spun to veil the intricate threads of her past. She can make do with this façade, the mask she wears as Mia Dromastus, concealing the shadows of Miyandrel Celeste.

As she looks around the modest chamber that is now her domain, the walls whispering stories of a life she never chose, she takes a moment to reflect. The soft rustle of the papers she has just manipulated is the echo of her downfall, the proof of her adaptability in the face of adversity. The quill she now holds is not a symbol of authority but a tool for survival, rewriting her narrative in ink.

Taking a moment to reflect, she inhales deeply, the air heavy with the scent of dust and faded dreams… but there is still something in her. The Celeste blood in her is yet to completely give up for their rest a great ambition hidden within the layers of her heart.

The memory from this morning suddenly flashes in her mind as Mia sits alone, the weight of the agreement with Randel settling over her. The words echo in her ears like an indelible melody.

"I will allow you to be my wife. You and the child… I will allow the both of you in my life. I will die protecting you both until I die…" Randel's solemn pledge reverberates, sending an unexpected flush to Mia's cheeks. The sincerity in his words pierces through her defenses.

"Do you understand?" Randel's question follows, a firm affirmation of the gravity concealed within his promise. There's a weightiness to the moment, a silent contract binding their fates. But Randel, in his typical fashion, is not done yet. He selfishly appends, in a tone that cuts through the tenderness like a blade, "You better make good work on your end because I still want a normal wife, and a normal life."

Mia grits her teeth, the sharp edges of his selfishness scraping against her pride. The bitterness of the truth in his words stings, and yet, there's a small taste of success that she can't deny. In the complex dance of power and compromise, she has carved out a space for herself.

The room is silent, and Mia is left alone with the echoes of Randel's words. She, who was once Miyandrel Celeste, a princess destined for greatness, has maneuvered herself into a role that, if nothing else, guarantees her a semblance of security. The price, however, is high – the sacrifice of her true identity, the submission to the whims of a man who demands normalcy.

In this fleeting moment of reflection, Mia can't help but acknowledge that, in her own way, she has managed to assert control over the narrative of her life.

Mia strides through the Dromastus Territory with purpose, her mind a tapestry of divinations woven with threads of fate. As a Fatemancer, she possesses the extraordinary ability to peer through time, and in her quest for a partner to bear the seed of power she seeks, she has navigated through precisely 6,012,500 realities.

Of these divergent pathways, Randel Eir Dromastus emerges as a pivotal figure, a man seemingly ordinary, hiding his strength beneath the veneer of a normal life. In half of the realities she's explored, he is but a humble individual, a facade that conceals the potential for greatness.

Yet, in the other half, Randel takes on the guise of a madman, a force of rage capable of nearly unraveling the fabric of the world. The stark duality of his existence perplexes Mia, as she grapples with the uncertainty of which version of Randel she has brought into her life.

Among the myriad threads of destiny, there exists one particular reality that captures her attention—an outcome where she has borne Randel's child. This offspring, a beacon of unparalleled power, disrupts the natural order and challenges the boundaries of reason. Mia can feel the weight of the potential within her, a destiny entwined with the very fabric of the universe.

As she traverses the Dromastus Territory, Mia is aware of her allure as the guards and maid secretly glance her way in awe. Beauty has always been her ally, turning heads since her Academy days. However, the anomaly lies not in her appearance but in the subject of her search. Randel Eir Dromastus, despite the potential for greatness within him, is fixated on the ordinary, the mundane. Mia understands his preference – an average girl, perhaps with freckles and brown hair, someone resembling the prim and proper villagers he idealizes.

The clash between her extraordinary nature and Randel's obsession with normalcy poses a challenge. Mia, a creature of extraordinary abilities, is tasked with navigating the intricacies of Randel's desires

Mia's ambition is a flame burning within her, a desire to reclaim the Imperial Throne and rewrite the narrative of her destiny. Yet, in the intricate dance of power, there exists an enigmatic figure—Randel Eir Dromastus. Mia, with all her precognitive dives, cannot decipher the true depths of this man.

In the tapestry of futures she has glimpsed, Mia has attempted countless times to woo Randel, only to meet failure at every turn. Frustration simmers beneath the surface as she grapples with the mystery that shrouds him. Desperation, however, takes root, and Mia resorts to drastic measures—intoxicating Randel, blurring the lines between desire and manipulation.

Mia remembers last night clearly.

The hazy atmosphere of the night becomes her ally as she lures him into her bed, a calculated move to bind their fates in the most intimate of connections. The consequence is swift, as Mia finds herself carrying the seed of power within her womb. The child, the key to her grand plan, begins its journey toward existence.

Mia's plans unfold with a simplicity that belies their audacity. She knows the path she must tread—satisfy the other person until the child is old enough to enter the Academy. From there, the wheels of her machinations will set in motion, and she will pave the way to reclaim the Empire. The importance of Randal's protection looms large in her strategy, for the Fatemancer pathway she treads lacks offensive might. Survival is its forte, but even in that, she recognizes the superiority of Randal's class—the Phantomancer.

In the corridors of her mind, Mia recalls precognitive memories of Randel, glimpses of a toughness that lies hidden beneath the surface. The Phantomancer's resilience, his ability to endure and escape, poses a formidable superiority. As she charts her course, Mia is acutely aware that her success hinges on his protection, on his unwitting role in safeguarding her and the child until the time is ripe for her ascent.

The crackling flames cast dancing shadows over the dimly lit room as Mia extends a document toward Randel. "Sign here," she instructs, her voice steady as she presents a contract of marriage—a relic of a bygone era when priests officiated such unions.

Randel, comfortably settled in front of the fireplace, takes the document and begins to read. "As I said, I want a normal wife," he declares, his gaze fixed on the words. "From now on, no more public practice of magic. I will do the same. I am aware that you have some sinister purpose for wanting me to father your child, but keep me out of it," he adds, penning his signature with a practiced hand.

Mia, standing beside him, nods in agreement. "Just to get our story straight," she begins, her eyes fixed on Randel. "I am a merchant's daughter. My mother passed away long before I was born. My father, Kjorn, died in the war, attacked by bandits. The name of my father is not a fabrication; there was a real 'Mia' with a father called Kjorn out there. The only lie I'll be perpetuating is that I am now Mia."

Randel, still reading between the lines, raises an eyebrow. "Let me guess, the real Mia is already dead," he remarks, his tone edged with skepticism.

Mia meets his gaze unflinchingly. "Correct," she confirms, a hint of solemnity underlying her admission. The firelight flickers, casting a momentary glow on the orchestrated deception that binds them together, setting the stage for a tale of fabricated identities and hidden motives.

Well, Randel Eir Dromastus has none. That's clear even to Mia. The guy just wants a perfectly normal and average life… of course, with occasional luxuries, the normal and average kind of luxuries.

Randel smirks, a condescending edge to his tone. "Identity theft, neat," he remarks, acknowledging the intricacies of the web Mia is weaving.

Mia, undeterred, responds with a solemn promise. "I will do my best to satisfy your demands," she declares, her commitment evident in her unwavering gaze.

Randel leans comfortably in his chair, his expression unyielding. "I really mean it when I said I want a normal life. As long as you are my 'normal wife,' I will at least try my best to secure your safety," he asserts, contemplating the complexities of the arrangement. "For child support, let me think of something."

Mia, grateful for the semblance of generosity, offers her thanks. "I am thankful for your generosity," she replies, her words laced with diplomatic courtesy.

Randel, still reclining, clarifies his own narrative. "Just to get my story straight too… I am Randal Eir Dromastus. I dropped out of the Sorcery Academy a decade ago. I have been lost in the Whispering Woods ever since and have miraculously come back."

Mia nods, acknowledging the details of his fabricated past. "Understood," she affirms, sealing their agreement in the firelit room.

Randel furrows his brow, a hint of concern coloring his expression. "Also, is this really okay? Won't the people be confused? You did forcefully become baroness by claiming you are a distant cousin of mine, which is obviously a lie. If someone gets a good look from the two of us, you'll be found out immediately, blondie… My hair is dark as coal."

Mia, undeterred, responds with a confident assurance. "We will be fine. I dye my hair black when I appear as the 'cousin' Baroness," she says, twirling a strand between her fingers. "My new identity should serve our purpose well enough."

Randel remains skeptical, his gaze unwavering. "I am serious… I am watching over you… I only want to lead a 'normal life' and fade into the background like a random extra…"

Mia, unable to contain her curiosity, presses further. "Your eccentricity continues to baffle me. Can you please tell me why you are so obsessed with normalness?"

Randel, his expression turning somber, responds with a frown. "You won't understand," he declares, a hint of finality in his words. "And it is better that you don't understand."

Undeterred by his cryptic response, Mia offers a wild guess with a playful tone. "Hmmm… perhaps, is it a very tragic past you wish to remain undisclosed?"

Randel falls into silence, his features tight-lipped and revealing nothing.

Mia, sensing the weight of his silence, decides to leave the conversation hanging. Without another word, she turns and exits the room, leaving the enigma of Randel's obsession with normalcy to linger in the air between them, like an unanswered question.

As she withdraws from the spotlight, the embers of her ambitions smolder. Mia contemplates the lessons learned from her failures, each setback a stepping stone toward a more sinister return. The 'Has Been' Villainess, once vanquished, seeks the shadows to rebuild, to plot her resurgence, and perhaps, in the next iteration of the story, to cast a darker shadow over the protagonists.

The narrative may have moved on, but Mia remains a force in the periphery, biding her time, waiting for the perfect moment to emerge once more—a phoenix rising from the ashes of her own downfall. The story may have ended for now, but Mia's tale is far from over.