An Unwritten Story [Villainous Power Couple, LitRPG]

After Rose delivered the final report and vanished like a shadow to execute Vionette’s other order, the atmosphere in the Map Room shifted.

Vionette reached out, her white-gloved fingers hovering over the map. With a deliberate clicking sound, she began moving the blue pieces again, sliding them across the parchment with predatory grace.

“Here is where the war starts,” she declared, her voice a cool blade that sliced through the lingering doubts in the room.

She moved the blue formations until they were practically touching the red tide of the Aurelyth invaders.

“We aren’t waiting three days for them to show up. We’re moving closer to start the battle tomorrow.” Shifting her gaze to the faces around the room, she asked, “Any questions?”

The room remained plunged in a stifling silence. Roswell sat motionless, his mind a labyrinth of confusion as he tried to decipher the impossible.

What could have happened? he wondered, his gaze flickering between the princess and the dark-haired man beside her.

In a matter of days, Crimvane’s power had skyrocketed from a dying ember to a blazing sun.

Livora was equally paralyzed, her usual haughty mask cracked by a tremor of genuine uncertainty. Crimvane had the equipment, yes—she could see the shimmering Relic-grade gear in her mind—but winning against an army that doubled their numbers was a feat that defied the very laws of military science.

“I have none, Your Majesty,” Korneas whispered, nodding in a gesture that was less about agreement and more about submission.

“Same with me, Your Majesty,” Valric added, his voice gravelly with the realization that the old ways of war had been burned away the moment these two unhinged rulers took the throne.

“No problems here. I just want to eat after this,” Elina chirped, her monster-pupiled eyes drifting toward the door as she thought about the savory scents she hoped would follow the meeting.

“I have no doubts either,” Kaelen agreed, his voice steady as an anchor.

He relished the coming storm; for a man who lived by the grind of his own strength, the overwhelming odds were simply a larger whetstone for his blade.

“I have full faith in you guys,” Lucien declared, flashing a friendly smile toward Noa and Vionette that felt entirely too casual for a council of war.

“Me! Me! I got one!” Lina’s voice piped up as she raised her hand. “Why place the cavalry on the wings instead of the center?”

Noa couldn’t help himself. A smirk tugged at his lips as he turned toward his sister, raising a didactic finger.

“Oh, my stupid little sister,” he mocked, his voice dripping with playful, big-brother arrogance. “It’s for speed. From the sides we can move freely, flank the enemy, or intercept their cavalry before it reaches our rear. It’s simple logi—Ock!”

Mid-sentence, Noa’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. A dull thud echoed through the room as Vionette’s fist descended upon his head. His stylish military hat buckled under the impact, the brim dipping down to cover his eyes.

“Who are you calling stupid?” Vionette asked, her voice a sweet poison as she glared at him. “She is asking to learn. It’s just that you happen to possess more knowledge than her. Knowledge and wisdom are different.”

After lifting her fist, she sighed and reached out, her fingers deftly straightening his hat and smoothing out the creases as if she were tending to a ruffled kitten. Noa grumbled under his breath, his face flushing with a mix of annoyance and the lingering warmth of her touch.

Lina giggled, giving Noa a cheeky, triumphant smile, her eyes sparkling with the joy of seeing her brother put in his place.

“You...!” Noa gritted his teeth, his fingers itching to retaliate with a forehead flick, but the moment was interrupted by a crisp knock at the door.

The doors creaked open, revealing Rose leading a procession of Eryndor’s own maids. Their hands were laden with polished silver trays, and following at the very rear was Mara.

“Food! Food!” Elina’s eyes ignited with excitement, her tail thumping beneath her skirt in a rhythmic beat against the floor.

While the inner circle was ready to dive in, the others were just confused. No one had ever seen a war council turn into a dinner party inside a Map Room.

The maids moved with the silent efficiency of ghosts, placing plates before the dukes and the visitors. They lifted the polished silver cloches with a flourish, revealing slices of herb-crusted venison terrine.

The meat had been baked until firm and glazed with a reduction of dark wine that shimmered like liquid garnets. Seasoned with rosemary, thyme, and garlic, the rich, savory scent wrapped around the room like a warm blanket. Beside the meat rested buttered baby potatoes and tender spears of asparagus, arranged with a geometric precision that spoke of royal elegance.

However, the maids bypassed Noa and Vionette entirely. The two rulers looked at each other in genuine confusion, their stomachs growling in protest as they realized they had been skipped.

Then, Mara stepped forward, balancing two plates in her hands with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“As for you two lovebirds,” she said, her voice warm and maternal as she reached the head of the table.

With a dramatic flourish, she lifted the final cloches. Beneath them rested the same herb-crusted venison, but with a glaring difference: the meat had been molded into the shape of perfect hearts, glazed in a glossy, crimson wine.

“We have special heart-shaped venison terrine for the rulers.” She reached out and adjusted Noa’s cap slightly, pinched his cheek, and leaned closer before whispering playfully, “Enjoy yourselves.”

“…”

“…”

Mara exited the room with the maids, but before departing, she didn’t forget to shoot Noa a subtle wink. Noa and Vionette sat frozen, their brains temporarily short-circuiting as they stared at the romanticized meat. Their mouths hung slightly open, their ‘final boss’ auras evaporating into a cloud of embarrassment.

“...What... the... fuck?” Noa’s voice finally returned, sounding far less like a ruler and more like a confused teenager.

“Heh!”

Unexpectedly, Vionette let out a genuine laugh, covering her mouth with her fist as her shoulders shook. She looked at Noa, her crimson eyes dancing with a playful light.

“Eat up, you idiot. It would be a crime to let mother’s hard work go to waste.”

M-mother?!

Before Noa could protest, Vionette sliced off a piece of the heart-shaped meat and shoved it into his mouth. She did it with a bright, radiant smile, the sudden movement nearly knocking his hat off his head.

To counterattack, Noa narrowed his eyes, his competitive spirit flaring up. He took a piece from his own plate and, with a move as swift as a sword strike, he lunged forward.

Vionette let out a muffled gasp as she suddenly found her own mouth filled with venison, her eyes focusing steadily on Noa as if they were locked in a serious, high-stakes duel of the senses.

For a moment, the war was forgotten, and the two of them simply stared at each other, chewing in unison before breaking into soft, synchronized smiles.

“Ahem! You two, this is hardly the appropriate time. Cut it out,” Rose interrupted, her ‘head maid’ persona gone, replaced by the exasperated tone of a friend dealing with a couple that had forgotten the rest of the world existed.

Snapping back to reality, Noa and Vionette looked around the table.

Roswell and Livora were staring at them as if they were watching a new species of animal. The King of Eryndor was speechless; he had watched his own highly-trained maids obey a foreign woman he hadn’t even heard of before, and now he was watching the two most dangerous people in the room act like spoiled children.

“This kingdom is crazy…” Roswell muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

“I agree,” Livora replied, her eyes wide as she poked at her asparagus.

Korneas and Valric had already begun eating, though they did so while watching their rulers out of the corners of their eyes, sweat beads rolling down their cheeks.

Kaelen enjoyed his meal with the slow, methodical pace of a man used to the chaos, while Lucien ate with a refined, graceful air, completely ignoring the flirtatious skirmish at the head of the table. To them, this was just Tuesday.

“Just ignore it,” Kaelen offered as a tip to Roswell, not looking up from his potatoes.

“Yeah, it’s easier that way,” Lucien added with a nod.

Across from them, Elina was devouring her food with a ferocity that suggested she hadn’t eaten in decades. It was her first proper meal in a while, and she was far too preoccupied with the rosemary glaze to care about romance.

“Yummyyyy! Miss Mara is the best!” she cheered, her mouth curving up in a massive, sauce-stained smile.

Next to her, Lina watched Noa and Vionette with her signature cheeky grin, her own plate untouched.

“You two really need to learn some manners. Even I know you shouldn’t play with your food,” she teased.

“Shut up, you brat!” Noa yelled back, though his mouth was still half-full of heart-shaped venison.

***

A day later,

The war finally arrived at Crimvane’s feet. The army stood in a silence so profound it felt as though the world itself had stopped breathing.

The knights stood in formation, their backs straighter than ever thanks to the Relic-grade gear. Behind them, the mages stood ready, their belts lined with Aether potions that shimmered like bottled starlight. The Cyradis healers were positioned in white tents just behind the lines, ready to snatch lives back from the brink of the abyss, while Duke Gemsh’s knights stood as a silent, brooding wall at the rear.

The banner of Crimvane snapped in the wind above them, the deep red fabric undulating like a living lung, waiting for the blood of the enemy to baptize it in a deeper shade of slaughter.

On one of the hills overlooking the plain, the royal pavilion stood like a crown upon the earth.

Under the vast, silk canopy, Noa sat in a decorated wooden chair that loomed over him like a throne. He leaned back, his new sword—Acheron—planted into the soil between his boots. His left hand grasped the pommel, his right fist supporting his tilted face, while his left foot rested casually on his right shin.

To his right sat Vionette, her legs crossed with regal poise as she sipped tea from a delicate porcelain cup provided by Rose. Her military uniform caught the light, the red and black fabric reflecting the grim aesthetic of the battlefield below.

To Noa’s left sat Lina, though her small frame made the massive chair look like it was swallowing her whole. Elina sat on Vionette’s left, dealing with the same size discrepancy, while Roswell and Livora occupied the far edges, their faces pale as they looked down at the gathering storm.

After a long, haunting whistle of the wind, Vionette placed her tea on the saucer Rose held and sharpened her gaze, her Aether surging.

It wasn’t a shout that echoed through the air; it was a calm, resonant voice that manifested directly within the minds of every soldier, mage, and noble on the field. It was as if the heavens themselves were whispering a divine revelation into their souls.

The eyes of every trooper flickered for a heartbeat before they snapped to attention, their bodies straightened in unison, every knight raising their sword skyward with both hands like spears pointed at the throat of God.

Vionette’s words struck some hearts, but not all. She knew this army fought more for survival and coin than for absolute loyalty.

Yet, she spoke anyway.

What mattered wasn’t if they believed her in this desperate moment, but whether her words would return to them like a spark catching dry wind when the battle finally tilted in their favor.

“And now, the real annihilation begins,” Noa murmured, his eyes glowing with a faint, violet light as he stared at the distant horizon.

As he watched the dust clouds rise, a new idea began to form in the corners of his mind.

As the knights at the front lifted their gazes, the banners of the Aurelyth army rose beneath the horizon Noa was quietly observing.

Even a child could see the overwhelming difference in numbers between the two forces. Yet, there was nowhere to run—only forward, only to fight until survival was earned or victory was claimed.

The Aurelyth army closed the distance, stopping exactly one hundred meters away. Unlike the desperate resolve of the Crimvane troops, the eyes of the invaders were filled with the arrogant hunger of a predator. They looked at the smaller force with a prideful sneer, certain that they were about to feast.

The two sides stood divided by a small gap in the grassy plain, the knight captains—Kaelen and Demor—on both sides staring each other down from atop their warhorses.

Two kingdoms now stood at the threshold of history, and when the steel stopped singing, only the victor would remain to claim the throne of a new era.