I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

In Camelot, the city's reconstruction was progressing steadily, but the Imperial Palace naturally took precedence. While Ivan showed little concern for the palace, being far more occupied with his studies in Ocryphia, it had been Kamila's idea to prioritize its restoration.

The palace now belonged entirely to Ivan, who had become the de facto Emperor of Britannia. Kamila, ever mindful of his status, insisted the palace be immaculate for his eventual return. Within a month—by overworking the labor force more than necessary—she ensured the palace was not only rebuilt but scrubbed clean of the bloodshed they had left behind.

The results were undeniable; the palace gleamed brighter than ever. The workers, however, were another story. Exhausted to the brink, they had to push through their fatigue, but Kamila cared little for their weariness. 

At that moment, Gwenyra was the one intervening, offering some measure of peace, using her calming presence to keep their spirits from crumbling. In her rare moments of guilt for manipulating them, she even extended a hand of gratitude to each one, though it felt like the bare minimum after what she was doing.

Gwenyra sat currently in her private study within the palace, her delicate frame hunched over a desk cluttered with paperwork. The documents piled high reflected the turmoil not just in Camelot, but in the surrounding major towns of Britannia as well. Her beautiful face showed the strain of sleepless nights, dark circles forming under her eyes, while her quill moved across the parchment in an almost mechanical fashion.

Upon closer inspection, her wrists, ankles, and neck were encircled by restraining bracelets—explosive devices meant to keep her in line, should she dare to attempt anything reckless. In her own study, she was usually left alone, aside from the occasional maid. But today, two people stood silently with her to watch her.

A man and a woman.

These people weren't her attendants, nor were they from Britannia. They were part of Ivan's personal Legion, draped in black from head to toe. The black cross of Seraphiel hung prominently from their necks, swaying in Gwenyra's peripheral vision as if to mock her. 

It wasn't that they truly feared Gwenyra would escape, but they needed to keep a watchful eye on Britannia's First Princess, ensuring she didn't engage in any suspicious activity behind their backs. Not that they believed she would, given that her entire family was being held hostage. 

Her only moments of respite came in the quiet of her room after completing the day's endless tasks. From managing Camelot to ensuring her people's needs were met, Gwenyra had to personally oversee everything, all of which, indirectly, served Ivan's interests as well.

"It's exhausting, watching a damned Britannian princess scribble away for hours," Laura muttered, her dark eyes glaring disdainfully at Gwenyra.

"There's nothing we can do. Lady Kamila doesn't trust this woman in the slightest. Neither do I," Jostin replied with a sigh.

"Who would trust a follower of that stupid 'Savior' in the first place?" Laura scoffed, sneering.

She expected some kind of reaction from Gwenyra, but none came. The princess was too drained to respond, having endured countless insults toward her faith in the Savior over the past month. It had all become background noise to her.

As Laura considered throwing another insult Gwenyra's way, a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. One of their colleagues entered the room, glancing at Gwenyra before announcing, "Lunch is ready for the Princess."

It was already well into the afternoon.

At the mention of lunch, Gwenyra's tired eyes briefly lit up with a glimmer of happiness. Mealtime was one of the few moments of joy she had left, as it allowed her to reunite with her family. Despite the circumstances, they still dined together.

Of course, Kamila, who oversaw the royal captives, had no intention of allowing these family meals out of kindness. It was another form of control, an idea she had learned from Ivan himself. Each day, Gwenyra was reminded—subtly but unmistakably—that her family's lives rested in Kamila's hands. One wrong move, and they would all be executed one by one.

Though she understood this all too well, Gwenyra still looked forward to seeing her loved ones. 

Placing her quill down, she rose from her desk. Without a word, she began to leave the room, followed closely by Laura, who clicked her tongue in irritation, and Jostin.

Gwenyra's hurried footsteps echoed through the halls as she made her way toward the dining room. Two guards from Gevurah, stationed at the entrance, opened the doors as soon as they spotted her approaching.

As Gwenyra stepped inside, her heart ached at the sight before her. Her family sat around a rectangular table, much like they used to during their usual dinners—only now, the atmosphere was heavy with despair. Each member wore the same set of explosive bracelets on their wrists, ankles, and necks. 

No one had been spared.

"Gwenyra…" Guinevere, her mother, stood up, her expression relieved. Arthur Pendragon, her father, managed a faint smile, though it was tinged with the weariness of a man whose burdens had grown unbearable.

"Gwen!" Elaine, the youngest of the family, reacted the most, jumping from her seat to throw her arms around her elder sister in a tight embrace. Gwenyra held her close, savoring the fleeting comfort of family warmth.

One of the guards overseeing the meal started forward, about to separate the sisters, but Jostin raised a hand, signaling him to stop. After all, the more Gwenyra was reminded of her family's affection, the more determined she would be to cooperate.

Gwenyra offered a nod to her brothers, who sat in silence, also quite depressed. She then took her place beside Elaine.

"Why didn't you join us for dinner yesterday?" Guinevere asked, her voice filled with concern. It wasn't like her daughter to miss a family meal, especially under their current circumstances. She feared Ivan's men might have harmed her.

Gwenyra forced a reassuring smile, despite the exhaustion pulling at her. "There's no need to worry, Mother. I've just been busy… rebuilding the city. The people need me, and I must do my part." She laughed softly, though the sound was hollow. "I fell asleep at my desk, that's all."

"Don't push yourself too hard, Gwen," Arthur said, worried as well. He looked at her with the same protective gaze she had known her whole life, though now it was dimmed by the weight of their imprisonment.

Gwenyra's heart ached as she looked at him. Her father, once so proud and strong, with a leading presence and a voice that could inspire armies, now seemed a shadow of his former self. His complexion was pale, his shoulders slumped, and his spirit—so unbreakable in the past—had been shattered since that day he had faced Ivan. 

"How's the Empire faring?" Uther, the eldest brother, asked as he sliced into the roast pork, his tone casual, but Gwenyra could see the hidden weight behind his question.

Gwenyra knew exactly what her brother was fishing for. "Camelot is recovering," she began carefully. "I'm doing everything I can to ensure it. The people seem to be accepting the changes, slowly… As for the other towns, I don't have many details, but the reports suggest they're recovering as well." Her words conveyed the reality: any hope for a revolt from the people was still distant, if not impossible for now.

Uther's ambition was far from extinguished, even with their family's captivity. As the eldest son and rightful heir, he knew his life hung by a thread. The moment Ivan saw him as a threat, it would be over. What Uther longed for was an opportunity to escape Camelot, rally the remnants of the old Britannian loyalists, and build an army to reclaim what had been stolen from them. His father's will may have crumbled, but his remained intact. He had plans, dangerous plans, to take back his birthright.

But for now, those ambitions were chained by their imprisonment, and his one hope for escape rested on his sister, Gwenyra. He knew, however, that she would never risk the safety of their family. Not for a rebellion. Not for anything. And that frustrated him beyond words.

"I hear today is your wedding day, sister. Well, congratulations?" Aldan, their younger brother, spoke up, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shoveled food into his mouth, paying little attention to his manners. His face wore a bored, annoyed expression.

Gwenyra's heart sank. She knew why her brother was angry. Aldan believed she had become far too compliant with Gevurah, too willing to accept her marriage to their enemy. To him, it seemed like she had embraced her fate—perhaps even welcomed it—turning her back on the struggle for Britannia's freedom.

Though Aldan likely understood, deep down, that Gwenyra was doing all of this for their family's survival, he refused to acknowledge it. His pride, his grief for their fallen kingdom, blinded him to the sacrifices she was making. Gwenyra met his gaze with a bitter expression, unable to summon any words of defense.

"Brother…" Elaine whispered, her sad eyes pleading with Aldan to be kinder, but her voice held no sway over his bitterness.

Their parents, Guinevere and Arthur, exchanged looks of quiet pain. They could only watch their daughter in silence, their faces filled with sorrow and fear. This was no ordinary wedding—it was a life sentence. Gwenyra was to marry Ivan Zakharovic Kozlow, the man responsible for Britannia's collapse and their crushing defeat. The man who had stripped their family of its power, and now, he would bind himself to Gwenyra, sealing their fate even further.

"I... I'm fine, everyone. Don't worry," Gwenyra said, forcing a smile, though it was fragile and far from convincing.

-Thud!

The doors swung open suddenly, revealing a breathtaking figure—Kamila. Her long, blond hair shimmered under the soft light, contrasting sharply with her pitch-black eyes. 

Despite seeing her frequently, Uther and Aldan couldn't help but be momentarily captivated. They had never encountered a woman more stunning than Kamila, a beauty that both fascinated them.

As Kamila's gaze swept across the room, landing on each member of the royal family, they instinctively averted their eyes, as if unable to meet her cold, penetrating stare. 

"Is there a problem, Lady Kamila?" Laura, Jostin, and the other guards immediately knelt in front of their superior. Laura, in particular, wore a bright smile, looking up at Kamila with admiration.

"Ivan is here," Kamila announced simply.

"...!"

The room fell into a suffocating silence. The very mention of Ivan's name sent a ripple of fear through the royal family, though it affected them and the Gevurah soldiers in starkly different ways. The Gevurah members trembled with reverence and awe, worshipful respect etched on their faces. 

In contrast, the six members of Britannia's royal family paled, terror gripping their hearts.

Guinevere, Aldan, and Elaine trembled uncontrollably, their bodies betraying the overwhelming fear they felt. Only Arthur, Uther, and Gwenyra managed to maintain a semblance of composure, but even their faces had turned ghostly white, drained of any color.

Kamila's eyes locked onto Gwenyra, ignoring the rest of the family entirely. 

"You. Come with me."