The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 107

Beatrice was aware she’s dreaming.

She was lying in a hospital bed again. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, pale and sterile. She could hear the rhythmic beep of a monitor, soft and steady. And beside her sat someone she hadn’t seen in what felt like lifetimes. Her best friend from the real world.

"You’re awake," her friend said, closing a thick paperback on her lap.

Beatrice panicked.

"How long was I out?" she asked, voice scratchy and wild. "Am I dead? Is this heaven? Did I relapse?"

Her friend blinked. "It’s only been an hour. You fainted and the doctors said your blood pressure dipped, but you’re stable. You scared the hell out of us."

Her gaze snapped to the book in her friend’s hands.

"Give me that," she said, reaching out weakly. But her arms wouldn’t lift.

"No, you need to rest," her friend insisted, trying to ease her back.

"Is there a second book?" she gasped. "A sequel? A spinoff? Who is Gertrude? Is there a House Aurberg? And Thomas, what happened to Thomas?!"

Her friend looked baffled. "I... I don’t know who those are. And who’s Thomas?"

Her breath hitched.

"The queen’s cat. Is it named Elisha in the book? Is there even a cat?"

"Bea, what are you talking about? There’s no cat in the book. It ends at Johanna’s coronation. Remember?"

"No," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "No, that’s not right. That’s not how it ends."

She began to panic in earnest, yanking at the sheets, trying to sit up. Nurses rushed in at the sound of the monitor spiking. Her friend backed away as Beatrice fought invisible bindings.

"This isn’t real! It doesn’t make sense! You have to tell me what’s real!" she cried.

And then everything turned white.

The next thing she knew, Lily was shaking her gently awake.

"My lady? Lady Beatrice, please, wake up."

She sat bolt upright in her bed, drenched in sweat. Lily flinched.

"I had a dream," Beatrice whispered.

"You were thrashing," the maid said quietly, fetching water. "And talking. I didn’t understand what you were saying."

Beatrice drank with trembling hands. She didn’t speak for a long time.

That day, she didn’t dress up and eat much. She moved like a ghost, her eyes far away.

Because now she couldn’t tell what was real. Was she the sick girl in a hospital bed, hallucinating stories from a novel? Or was she Beatrice Da Ville, a woman trapped in a rewritten fantasy world?

What if she was still dying? What if none of this was real?

When the Queen summoned her and the other two ladies for tea, Beatrice nearly declined. But duty carried her feet forward.

The Queen sat beneath the shade of a floral canopy, her gown light and airy for summer. A tray of delicate cakes and sugared petals lay untouched.

"Tell me," the Queen said, eyes sharp but calm, "how are you all adjusting to the palace?"

Gertrude immediately spoke of riding paths and military drills. Johanna smiled politely, complimenting the gardens.

Beatrice said nothing.

The Queen’s gaze turned to her. "And you, Lady Beatrice? Are you still sore from the fall?"

"A little," she managed, her voice faraway.

The Queen seemed ready to press further, but at that moment, Elisha leapt onto Beatrice’s lap, curling into a ball.

Beatrice smiled faintly. It was her only smile that day.

"It’s summer," the Queen said suddenly, her tone lighter. "We should take advantage. Tomorrow, we should sail. You’ll join the royal family for a boat outing on the lake."

Beatrice blinked. That wasn’t in the book. Not at this stage. Not until much, much later.

That night, she couldn’t sleep again.

And the next morning, as the court gathered at the water’s edge, she felt the story twisting under her feet.

The royal boat was vast, carved in rich mahogany, the sails trimmed in gold. Courtiers climbed aboard in delicate waves of color. The King himself took the wheel, laughing heartily, with Francois beside him.

Beatrice stood frozen, one foot on the dock. Francois had kissed her on the cheek once before on a boat, and everything had gone wrong after that.

Johanna and Lila stood near the rail, Lila dressed in soft green, Johanna in lilac. Beatrice joined them hesitantly. The princess stiffened but said nothing.

The trip began peacefully as the lake shimmered under the sun. Gertrude clung to Francois, making loud jokes, pointing at distant birds, asking questions no one cared about.

Beatrice tried to ignore her and turned to Johanna.

"You’ve sailed before?"

"Only once. I was terribly seasick."

Beatrice smiled, but it faded quickly as Lila cut in.

"Perhaps you’ll fall overboard this time. Wouldn’t that be dramatic enough for you, Lady Beatrice?"

Beatrice blinked. The jab was sharper than usual.

She turned, her words slow. "Whatever you say, girl-kisser." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

The princess gasped and Johanna went crimson.

No one else heard. But Lila grabbed her arm roughly and dragged her toward the stern.

"What did you mean by that?" she hissed.

Beatrice raised her eyebrows. "It was just a remark. Why so flustered, Princess? Unless..." Her eyes darted towards Johanna.

Lila turned a deeper shade of red.

"You saw us."

"It was just a kiss on the cheek, wasn’t it? Surely that’s harmless. Unless..." she teased, eyeing Johanna again.

Lila backed off, deeply flustered. Beatrice let the moment hang.

Then all at once, the wind shifted.

A crack of thunder echoed over the water. The sun, bright and warm only minutes before, vanished behind thick clouds. The lake darkened, and the Queen stood swiftly.

"Turn back," she ordered. "Now."

The King immediately grabbed the sail.

Francois moved quickly, taking hold of the ropes beside his father as the crew scrambled to obey the Queen’s command. The boat rocked, more sharply now. The once placid waters rippling in protest as if stirred from beneath.

Beatrice stood at the stern, one hand braced on the railing, the other still tingling from where Lila had grabbed her. The sky had darkened so abruptly that it felt staged and unnatural, like a curtain yanked too quickly on the wrong act.

"What’s going on?" Johanna asked, drawing closer.

Lila didn’t answer. Her eyes were scanning the treetops that bordered the far shore, jaw clenched.

"It’s just weather," Gertrude said confidently, though her voice was pitched higher than usual. "Storms roll in quickly over lakes. Don’t panic."

But there was something in the air. Beatrice could feel it, the same way you sense lightning before you see it. It was in the wind, how it hissed across the surface. It was in the boat’s groan as it turned, sails snapping under sudden strain.

She moved to the port side, eyes scanning the distant hills. No riders, no boats. Just the rising mist on the far banks.

"This never happened," she whispered.

Francois turned from the wheel, catching her voice. "What was that?"

She blinked. "I meant... this wasn’t on the forecast."

He raised a brow but didn’t press. Instead, he called out a command to tighten the sails. Beatrice noticed his calm demeanor. He has done this before, she thought.

"Everyone below deck," the Queen ordered. Her voice was firm, but Beatrice caught the edge of urgency in her tone.

The courtiers began moving, slow at first, then faster as the first drops began to fall.

Beatrice stepped back instinctively, and nearly slipped, until Francois’ hand shot out, steadying her by the elbow.

"You really do attract disaster," he muttered under his breath, but there was a flicker of amusement in his tone.

"I’m trying something new. Dramatic timing." Beatrice let out a breathless laugh.

His fingers lingered just long enough to say he didn’t mind catching her.

Johanna was ushered below by one of the guards, and Beatrice started to follow, only for Lila to grab her wrist again.

"We’re not done," the princess hissed under the rain.

Beatrice turned slowly. The water streaked down both their faces.

"I said what I said," Beatrice replied evenly. "Maybe next time, insult me with less venom and I won’t bite back."

Lila’s jaw clenched as her hand dropped. And softer than expected, she whispered... "You don’t understand."

Beatrice studied her. "Maybe. But rest assured you secret’s safe with me."

She descended the steps into the cabin, the world above dimming further behind her.

The chamber below deck was warm, but thick with tension. Courtiers dabbed at their wet hems. Johanna was seated near the lantern, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She looked up as Beatrice entered, but didn’t speak.

Elisha had been tucked away in a small basket with towels. She was dry, unimpressed, and possibly the only creature onboard without anxiety.

Beatrice sat near her and reached in. The kitten climbed into her lap like she’d been waiting for her all along.

A flash of lightning streaked outside the narrow window.

She should be frightened. This wasn’t in the book. The lake had never turned like this. The skies had never cracked open, and the Queen had never once invited a boat outing.

Beatrice stroked Elisha’s ears and tried to slow her breathing. Her eyes then drifted to Johanna, who was now quietly twisting the edge of her sleeve. Her profile was soft in the lantern light, but her posture was tense.

That kiss, it surely is something. That’s why Princess Lila was afraid.

Not of being seen, but of what being seen meant.

The curtain was fraying. The story, once stitched together with careful tropes, was unraveling.