Princess’s Struggle for Survival Chapter 452: He passed away

Before officially ascending the throne, Amalia had discussed with Astrid what form of appearance before the nobles would be most appropriate.

"Maybe... just like usual..."

"Sister, hug from behind, and I will sit on your lap."

Whenever Livia Calliste participated in noble gatherings, she always appeared in this manner, like a doll sitting in Astrid’s arms, a marionette manipulated by her.

Hearing this, Astrid paused briefly in thought, then rejected Amalia’s suggestion.

"For the future Emperor’s first public appearance, sitting on soone else’s lap would seem sowhat... inappropriate."

After all, it was the imperial throne, a seat reserved only for successive Emperors. As a princess without royal blood, even with her deep connection to Amalia, truly it wasn’t suitable for her to sit there.

Moreover, that posture, her waist exposed from behind, would imdiately give the impression that the new Empress of the Valeria Empire, Amalia Valeria, was rely a puppet easily controlled by the Third Princess Astrid. It will invite slander and make Hibbort suspicious.

Considering the details, better not.

Upon hearing this, Amalia lifted her bright, watery eyes and gazed earnestly at Astrid, her voice soft.

"Then does that an... I can do it later?"

This was a small trick Amalia had up her sleeve. Deep down, she knew full well that at least before Hibbort’s passing, Astrid wouldn’t dare commit such a transgression in front of the old Emperor.

Not that Amalia really cared, her goal wasn’t to get Astrid’s approval for this potentially risky proposal. Astrid’s safety will always be her top priority; Even if Astrid agreed, Amalia herself would find a reason to refuse.

She said it rely as a way to plan for the future. After all, their future together was long.

Astrid fell silent for a mont, gazing at Amalia whose eyes brimd with anticipation, vaguely sensing her intense desire to share everything she possessed.

"At least wait until the political situation stabilizes," Astrid replied.

But returning to the topic, there must be other ways to express their closeness besides sharing the sa throne.

Why did it feel like in this roleplay, Amalia was even more addicted than she was?

Receiving Astrid’s promise, Amalia’ eyes curved into a smile. Her delicate, tender feet wrapped around Astrid’s calves, and her cherry-pink lips gently kissed the side of her sister’s neck.

"I love you most, sister."

.............

Back to the fifth second after Hibbort finished his speech. Under countless gazes, the grand curtain slowly rose. Standing beside the throne was Astrid, clad in a flowing black silk dress. Her long legs, wrapped in fine black stockings, stood straight and elegant. Her signature silver-white hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, perfectly matching the hem of her dress.

In her hand, she held a strand of dark black hair, faintly shimring under the morning light. Tracing upward from her pale fingers along the hair’s path, this dark lock was rely a tiny portion among her full head of golden hair. As the comb in Astrid’s other hand gently combed through it, the black gradually transford into wheat-like gold.

Upon the throne sat a petite, aloof-looking girl. She wore a pure white dress tailored to her slender figure, made of exquisite fabric and richly decorated. The neckline revealed her small, delicate collarbones, while a tassel-shaped white ceremonial flower adorned the center of her chest. On her waist hung a silver tallic honeysuckle carving. Her golden hair, like fine threads, spilled over the lily-leaf-shaped dress trimmings, accentuating her slender waist.

Further down, pure white thigh-high stockings encased her legs as tender and fair as lotus roots. Due to the low skirt support, they covered a small section of her pinkish-white knees, concealing the dark gold border patterns at the top of the stockings beneath the fabric, hidden from all eyes.

At the bottom, she wore silver-white stiletto heels with side cutouts. The fine white stockings on the top of her feet and the graceful arch of her soles were faintly visible. The tallic wing design on the side heel further highlights a sense of nobility and elegance.

Because her legs were slightly shorter, the golden-haired girl’s heels didn’t touch the ground before the throne. This made people, upon the curtain’s unveiling, first notice Astrid standing beside her, gently brushing the new Empress’s hair.

Who is she...? How could she be sitting in that position...?

At this very mont, shouldn’t it be Crown Prince Lucas seated on the imperial throne?

All the nobles froze simultaneously, their pupils instantly widened, staring dumbfounded at the white-dressed girl on the throne. The entire hall fell into absolute silence.

Before the curtain rose, they had firmly believed Lucas Valeria would be seated there. The imnse gap between reality and expectation instantly paralyzed the minds of these conservative nobles, who struggled to accept everything new.

It wasn’t that no one noticed the petite girl resembling the sweet girl who always followed Astrid and obeyed her sister’s every word, it was that Amalia sitting there now radiated an aura and expression completely different from the timid girl who once ekly followed Astrid’s orders.

Especially now, her outward appearance bore the distinctive mark of royalty, the golden hair like rippling wheat fields.

Gazing at the nobles below who seed to have lost their ability to speak, Amalia sat calmly on the throne. As Astrid finished restoring the last strand of black hair back to pure gold, Amalia swept her blue eyes across the crowd and spoke slowly.

"Everyone, it’s nice to et you."

The girl’s clear, crisp voice resembled birdsong, but because she occupied the highest position, no one dared to underestimate her.

"Or for so of you who know , it’s been a while."

As she spoke, Amalia covered her eyes with her palm. Having hidden her identity for so many years, she was already accustod to how to wear and remove the ocular mbrane. Her fingertips lightly tapped; the plant-based mbrane coated with water magic instantly adhered to her pupils. Then she released her hand, revealing red eyes identical to Astrid’s.

At that mont, everyone instantly understood who the girl on the throne truly was.

Black hair, red eyes, the entire imperial capital had only one person with such features: Astrid’s so-called adopted little sister.

So she had been here all along.

"Just as you all see now."

Amalia straightened her back, leaning slightly forward so the tip of her high heel touched the ground, her tone calm.

"I was forrly Livia Calliste..."

Seeing that the nobles present had already recognized Amalia’s identity, Astrid released the golden strand entwined in her fingers and quietly stepped to the side of the throne. The red gem on her chest flickered faintly.

Amalia’s true na was about to be revealed to the world; her future self no longer needed the mbrane to conceal her eye color.

Her ntal energy activated. Amalia’s red irises gradually transford from bottom to top into blue. As her words concluded, they beca a fresh, grass-like blue.

"And now, I am Amalia Valeria."

"The future Emperor of the Valeria Empire."

Her blue eyes, resembling Hibbort’s, gazed upon the masses below. Her cold, calm voice carries a faint, inherited pressure, as if emanating from the sa bloodline. The blazing sunlight above illuminated the waves of her smooth golden hair and her delicate, snow-white face. At this mont, Amalia seed truly divinely ordained.

Every breathing noble had now fixed their gaze upon the white-dressed girl seated on the throne, she was, in a sense, under the collective gaze of the entire empire.

Another seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl, facing such a situation for the first ti, might show so timidity, releasing nervousness through small bodily movents. But now, under everyone’s scrutiny, Amalia showed no fear, as if she had been born waiting for this very day.

This was the seat Hibbort once occupied. That man often looked down upon his subjects with the sa calm composure, as if viewing ants beneath his feet.

No wonder so many people were obsessed with the throne of power.

The lingering scent of Astrid’s cool, subtle fragrance from her wrist as she styled her hair still lingered at the tip of Amalia’s nose. Amalia’s peripheral vision paused briefly on the silver-haired beauty beside her. A fleeting, inappropriate ambition flashed across her mind.

"How could this be..."

At the sa ti, Tristian, one of the outstanding youths of the younger generation, snapped back from his shock, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the armrest of his chair.

Golden hair, blue eyes, these were the typical royal features of the Valeria Empire. The Valeria surna and Hibbort’s tacit approval further confird her identity.

But how had he never heard that there was such a hidden imperial heir within the empire?

Feeling the warm sunlight after the curtain’s unveiling, Hibbort slowly turned around, exchanging a brief glance with Amalia high upon the throne, then spoke gently.

"Amalia Valeria is my biological daughter. Imperial royal blood flows within her veins."

The late Empress had left Hibbort only a pair of twins, Lucas and Alistair. This was a fact acknowledged by all imperial nobles. Now, suddenly introducing Amalia, clearly not of the deceased Empress’s bloodline.

In other words, Amalia’s true identity was Hibbort’s illegitimate daughter.

The council chamber was about to erupt in chaos, but under Hibbort’s gaze, it fell silent. The entire hall beca as quiet as a pin dropping.

"In the past, burdened by guilt towards my late wife, I wronged this innocent, naive young girl, treating her as a blemish in my life and imprisoning her in an ancient castle deep within the palace."

To ensure Amalia’s position was secure, the first step was to remove her status as an illegitimate child, legally affirming her right to succession.

Although internally as conflicted as Amalia was about promoting the Valeria na, Hibbort showed no outward sign of it.

"And her mother passed away shortly after, succumbing to illness."

"Fortunately, one day, my daughter, Astrid Calliste, awakened within the love I should have for my children."

Hibbort had already prepared his speech about Amalia’s identity, lack of emotion, purely technical.

Throughout his long reign, he had issued self-reproach edicts to maintain his rule. This was rely another required skill of statecraft.

After publicly announcing Amalia’s existence and affirming her royal status, the next step was to highlight her achievents. Suppressing his inner frailty, Hibbort’s voice grew increasingly solemn.

"In the years since she returned to the palace, Amalia has displayed talents that astonished , talents even surpassing those of her two elder brothers."

"The military deploynts along the borders, the strategy of luring enemies deeper in cooperation with Duke Charles, all were implented based on her suggestions."

Of course, none of these had anything to do with Amalia. But when spoken through Hibbort’s mouth, the aning changed entirely.

"The younger generation indeed shows promise. My once-childish daughter has unknowingly grown from a sapling into a towering tree. Thus, I naturally developed the idea of transferring power to her."

"From the beginning of June, all imperial affairs have been handled by Amalia."

Upon hearing this, the people below could no longer suppress their murmurs. Small voices rose and fell.

Compared to distant border affairs, the nobles in imperial capital care more about their imdiate interests, taxes in their territories, and unemployed refugees.

The past half-month, as Hibbort publicly stated his return to governance, they indeed felt the Emperor’s decisions on various bills had beco faster, and the council’s execution stronger than before the rumors of his illness.

If all this wasn’t Hibbort’s doing, but instead attributed to the white-dressed girl before them, then she truly possessed so governing capability.

"The bills you’ve seen, regarding frontline supplies, tax adjustnts and unemployed refugees, were all personally managed by Amalia."

With a light wave of the imperial scepter, a retroactive magic screen appears, showing Amalia sitting at a desk, reviewing cabinet proposals.

Upon the throne, Amalia sat upright and dignified, lightly tapping the back of her hand. Her two slender, tender white-stockinged legs elegantly crossed.

"If any of you have questions about the bills passed these past two weeks, you may ask directly."

The girl’s clear, composed words echoed through the hall. Combined with the images shown on the magic screen, no one raised objections or inquiries, only struggling to absorb everything that had just occurred.

After a few minutes, a staunch loyalist of the Crown Prince hesitantly spoke.

"Then... What about Prince Lucas...?"

This was the question on most people’s minds.

Hibbort remained silent. Seeing this, Amalia gently touched Astrid’s hand resting beside the throne, her voice soft and low.

"I’m sorry to bring you such a heartbreaking ssage."

"Crown Prince Lucas, overworked from prolonged exhaustion to state affairs, fell gravely ill from exhaustion half a month ago. Despite treatnt by physicians, he passed away in the palace."

These were Hibbort’s exact words. Amalia had no intention of changing them. After all, saying he lost his position due to lustful impulses wasn’t exactly proper.

Yesterday afternoon, she had already assured that a lecherous man, who lusted after her sister’s beauty, died in prison with eyes wide open. Their feud ended there.

"Prince Lucas... passed away?"

The man argued to himself, turning his head toward Hibbort.

The Emperor remained silent, leaning on his scepter, clearly expanding Amalia’s account.

"Preparations for Elder Brother’s funeral are already underway," Amalia continued, her eyes showing a faint trace of sorrow.

"Worried about state affairs even during outings to enjoy flowers, unable to sleep, such ’diligent governance’ led to his early passing. Truly regrettable."