Reincarnated As An Archmage’s Daughter

The look on Jareth's face when Hania unseated him at his own table was worth seeing. His knuckles went white around the silver fork. He glared sideways at Hania while she picked at her roasted pheasant like none of it mattered.

Thalira hid her face behind her sleeve, shoulders shaking with quiet giggles. For the first time all night she wasn't thinking about her missing mana. Just the ridiculous sight of the Crown Prince getting schooled on forks.

"I'm grabbing more of those honey cakes," Raylas whispered, leaning over with a nasty grin. "And a better seat for whatever you do next, Princess."

"I'm a delight," Hania said, sweet as sugar. "Ask my nanny."

"Lusha would back you up. Mostly because she thinks delight means screwing with minor royals."

Hania didn't answer. Her eyes moved across the room, watching servants and the slow shifts in the crowd. Jareth had stopped eating. He kept staring up at the imperial dais where his father talked quietly with some military mages.

He's waiting, she thought. Waiting for his chance to run to his father.

And the chance came five minutes later.

The Emperor waved off the mages. In the lull before the next course, Jareth shoved back his chair and marched up the marble steps, stiff and furious.

Hania watched him go, smirking inside. Go on, Your Highness. Tell him. Make my day.

"Hania," Thalira whispered, voice tight. "He's talking to the Emperor. He's pointing at us."

"Let him point," Hania said. "Pointing is rude. His tutor clearly skipped the etiquette lessons on basic manners."

Up on the dais, Jareth leaned in close, mouth moving fast, face twisted in complaint. The Emperor listened, eyes on the hall at first. Then they drifted down. Straight to the children's table. Straight to Hania.

The Emperor raised one hand. The Grand Chamberlain stepped up, bowed, listened, then turned.

"His Imperial Majesty commands the presence of Princess Hania of House Noctis at the High Dais."

Everything went quiet. Hundreds of eyes swung toward Hania. Near the east entrance, the nobles crowding Archmage Dravin backed away fast. Dravin didn't move. His eyes stayed locked on his daughter. Lusha's hand drifted toward the hidden threads in her dress.

Hania stood. She smoothed her dress, making sure nothing was wrinkled.

Time to put on a show.

★★★

Hania kept her steps even, hands clasped in front, the golden sphere pulsing softly beside her shoulder. At the bottom of the steps she dropped a perfect curtsey.

"Princess Hania of House Noctis greets His Imperial Majesty, the Sun of Bumania."

The Emperor looked down, face blank as stone. Jareth stood next to him, chest out, smirking like he'd already won.

"Princess Hania," the Emperor said, voice low and heavy. "The Crown Prince tells me you insulted the Imperial Crown in front of witnesses. He says you claimed your father's power makes the Empire look weak."

Gasps rippled through the hall. Treason talk. The kind that could end houses.

Jareth's smirk grew.

Hania let her eyes go wide. Lip trembling just a little. She stepped back, hands flying to her chest like she'd been slapped.

"I… I said what?" Her voice cracked right on cue. One tear welled up, hung there, then spilled.

"Don't play innocent," Jareth snapped. "You looked me in the eye and asked what my father had ever done compared to yours. You called our history propaganda!"

Hania turned those wet eyes up to the Emperor. She looked tiny, heartbreakingly innocent.

"Your Imperial Majesty," she whispered, more tears sliding down. "I would never say that. The Sun of Bumania is the light of the continent. My dad says the Empire keeps us safe."

Behind her, Raylas bit his hand to stop laughing.

"We... we were talking about the Royal Academy," Hania sobbed, her small shoulders shaking. She reached out, her bandaged hand trembling violently as she gestured toward Princess Thalira, who was watching from her table in absolute shock. "His Highness Jareth was... he was telling Princess Thalira that she was useless. Because she doesn't have mana. He said she shouldn't even go to the Academy because she can't light a candle."

The Emperor's gaze flicked to Jareth. The boy's face instantly went white.

"I didn't—I mean, she doesn't!" Jareth stammered, caught completely off-guard.

"He told her she could only advise people who actually matter," Hania continued, her voice filled with righteous, tearful sorrow. "It made me so sad, Your Majesty! Because Princess Thalira is so kind and smart. I just told His Highness that different people are good at different things. I said my dad told me that a great ruler needs people who can fight and people who understand history and politics to help them. I was trying to comfort her!"

She looked down, a fresh wave of tears hitting her dress. "But then... then His Highness got so angry. He told me that because I'm a Noctis, I think I'm better than everyone else. He said my family spreads lies. I didn't know what to say, so I just sat down and cried inside my heart. I didn't mean to make him mad, Your Majesty. I'm sorry if my words were bad. I'm just a child... I don't know how to speak properly like a prince."

The hall went dead silent.

The Emperor turned to his son. "Jareth. Did you insult the princess of Obelion at my banquet?"

"Father, she's lying!" Jareth's voice cracked. "Ask the others!"

The Emperor stared at the children's table. Every kid stared at their plates. Except Thalira. She stood up, fists tight.

"Princess Hania is telling the truth," she said. "The Crown Prince called me useless. Princess Hania defended me. He got angry when she wouldn't let him keep bullying me."

Good girl, Thalira. Remind me to actually teach you that spoon-balancing trick later.

The Emperor's jaw tightened. He'd seen enough.

"Chamberlain. Escort the Crown Prince to his quarters. He stays there until I say otherwise. Replace his tutor by morning. Clearly, he lacks the basic character required of his station."

"Father! No! You can't believe her!" Jareth screamed as two massive imperial guards stepped forward, politely but firmly grabbing his arms. "She's a monster! She's doing this on purpose! Look at her! Look at her face!"

They dragged him out. The doors slammed shut and cut off his shouting. The Emperor breathed deep, smoothed his face back into something regal, though a vein still stood out on his temple. He looked down at Hania wiping her eyes.

"Princess Hania, the Empire apologizes for the Crown Prince's behavior. Your defense of our guests shows maturity beyond your years."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Hania sniffed, curtseying again. "You are very kind."

"But," the Emperor continued, leaning forward, "there is still the matter of the Southern Coast. Your father's actions yesterday, heroic as they were in saving you, have damaged our maritime borders. This 'Noctis's Scar' has disrupted trade and alarmed our neighbors."

His eyes locked on hers. "As heir of House Noctis, how does your family plan to answer for this devastation? The Archmage cannot believe he stands above the laws of this realm."

Hania opened her mouth to speak, preparing her next layer of childish evasion, but before a single syllable could leave her lips, a sound cut through the hall.

Clack.

Frost exploded from the east entrance. The central fountain flash-froze and shattered the basin with a loud crack.

Archmage Dravin walked forward, his boots striking the marble. He stopped beside Hania at the base of the dais.

"You speak of laws, Your Majesty," he said quietly. "You speak of trade routes and borders."

The Emperor gripped his throne, mana flaring to push back the cold. "Archmage, this display is unnecessary. We are conducting a formal—"

"My daughter was trapped inside a Grade-S legendary protection seal," Dravin cut in. "One built with the exact geometry of the Bumania Imperial Vault."

Gasps everywhere. The Emperor went rigid.

"You ask how House Noctis will answer for damage to your sea," Dravin said, finally looking up. "I ask how the imperial family will answer for trying to assassinate my heir using a prehistoric weapon from your own inventory."

He took one step onto the stairs. Frost spider-webbed under his boot.

"If my daughter had perished inside that beast," Dravin whispered, "there would be no 'Noctis's Scar' on your coast. Because there would be no South left to inherit. There would be no Empire. There would only be ice, stretching from the northern wastes to the southern depths."

He raised his hand. The air around the throne cracked with tiny razor shards.

"Choose your next words carefully, Emperor," Dravin said. "Because I am currently deciding whether this room is acoustically efficient enough to hear your final breath."

The halo of ice shards hung there, inches from the Emperor's throat. A bead of sweat froze on his temple. His knuckles were white on the gilded armrests, his mana flaring weakly against the cold. He was the Sun of Bumania, but staring into Dravin's empty red eyes, he understood something simple and ugly: he could die right here.

He didn't lean back or call the guards. Showing fear would end him faster than any spell. So he kept his back straight and his breathing steady, clinging to whatever dignity he had left.

Hania caught a shift in the air. Something off.

She could see the shattered fountain, but the words, the accusations, the death threat—nobody else seemed to hear them. The nobles were shaking, teeth chattering, terrified of Dravin's power. But they weren't reacting to the talk of assassination or final breaths.

A localized acoustic isolation barrier, Hania realized, her mind racing. Dad locked the sound waves into a tight, directional geometric coordinate. He's terrifying the entire room with his presence, but the actual lethal threat is an exclusive duet between him and the Emperor.

Dravin slowly lowered his hand. The ice shards melted into nothing. The crushing cold pulled back into him with one breath. The temperature in the hall snapped back to normal.

The Emperor breathed deep, smoothed his face, and spoke like the last minute had never occurred. "Archmage Noctis, your concern for your daughter is understandable. Any father would be upset after an ordeal like that."

The nobles let out a collective breath. The Emperor was smiling, so they relaxed. They had no idea what had actually been said.

Dravin stood at the base of the dais. "The safety of the Noctis line isn't about passion, Your Majesty. It's state security."

"Indeed," the Emperor said, leaning back. His fingers still trembled a little on the armrests. "And state security is exactly why the Crown is concerned. The southern sea is our trade lifeline. We're glad the princess survived, but the way she was rescued has left our merchants… anxious."

Dravin gave a tiny tilt of his head. "The southern sea had a prehistoric monster the Empire's coastal wards never even noticed. House Noctis handled the cleanup. The ice walls stay until the dark mana is gone. Surely the Crown prefers secure borders over fast shipping."

"Maintenance," the Emperor muttered, forcing a small laugh that sounded almost real. "Your idea of maintenance is always… ambitious. We'll have the trade ministers adjust the routes. The Empire can accommodate the North's standards."

"A wise decision," Dravin said quietly. "Prudence is a commendable trait in a sovereign."

The hall stayed dead quiet. Everyone could feel the violence underneath the polite words. One slip and it would turn into war.

Hania, still standing beside her father in her tear-stained dress, wiped her eyes with a sniff.

Look at them. Dad just threatened to wipe out the imperial family. The Emperor's pretending they're arguing about shipping.

She looked up at the Emperor with a sweet, innocent smile.

"Your Majesty?" she asked, voice light. "Since you and my dad are done talking about the ice walls… can I go back to my table? Princess Thalira said she'd show me how they make the honey cakes here. I'm really hungry."

The Emperor looked at her. For a split second irritation flashed in his eyes, he knew exactly what she'd pulled but it vanished.

"Of course, Princess Hania," he said, warm but forced. "Enjoy the banquet. We wouldn't want to keep a heroic child from her dessert."

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" Hania said brightly. She turned and skipped back to the children's table like any normal child.

★★★

Raylas leaned over the second she sat down, eyes wide. "I don't know what your father said to make the Emperor go that pale, but you… the tears, the shaking, the 'crying inside my heart' bit?" He shook his head. "You didn't just win. You pulled off a bloodless coup at the kids' table."

Hania picked up her fork, eyes gleaming as she glanced toward her father still standing near the dais.

"The night's still young, Lord Raylas," she murmured, taking a bite of pheasant. "We haven't even gotten to the spoons yet."