There are moments in life when you know you've made a mistake.
Getting involved with someone named Belladonna Lysandre?
That's one of them.
---
I had exactly three days of peace after surviving my first official meeting with Lady Seraphina du Valorin, the Tsundere Sword Princess™ who judged my soul through porcelain teacups.
Those three days?
Heaven.
I wasn't nearly murdered. No one threw scones at me. No ancient magical artifacts exploded near my face. I even had a nap.
It was suspicious.
And then the universe whispered, "You look too comfortable. Let's fix that."
---
Cue the arrival of my second betrothed: Lady Belladonna Lysandre, heir to the House of Unstable Alchemy, Bringer of Smoke, and proud holder of five separate magical safety violations.
Her carriage arrived trailing a fog of glittering blue smoke that smelled like roasted sugar and ozone.
"She's here!" cried one of our house maids, clutching her rosary.
"Activate the containment protocols!" shouted a butler in full armor.
Then she emerged.
Seven years old. Leather gloves, scorched skirts, and a glint in her eye that said I don't need a reason to cause chaos, I just need time.
She squinted at me through goggles.
"You look flammable," she said.
Inner Me: Red flag. Enormous red flag. That's a red theme park.
"Perfect," she added, and smiled like she'd found her next science experiment.
---
The official meeting took place in the greenhouse because clearly, no one in our household has survival instincts.
I was seated at a wrought-iron garden table while Belladonna set up a chemistry lab that OSHA would've burst into flames over.
She arranged colorful potions like a tea set from a dimension where laws don't exist.
Then she sat across from me and placed a teacup between us.
"Drink this," she said.
I glanced at the liquid. It was glowing. And bubbling.
Like a lava lamp with unresolved trauma.
"What is it?" I asked, already regretting everything.
"A non-lethal mood stabilizer," she said. "Probably."
Inner Me: Abort. Abort. Evacuate body immediately.
"I made it just for you," she added.
I sighed, took the cup, and gave it a sniff.
Smelled like regret marinated in chaos.
Still, I took a sip.
It tasted like:
Burnt sarcasm
Fizzy grapes
Existential dread
Belladonna clapped her hands.
"You survived! That means you're special!"
"Or I've developed immunity to death," I muttered, my tongue now tingling.
---
The chaos didn't end there.
After the tea (which caused me to briefly speak fluent squirrel), Belladonna offered me a cookie.
I politely declined.
The cookie blinked at me.
---
That evening, Madame Thistle found me crouched in the library, having a conversation with a chair I thought was my spirit animal.
"I TOLD you not to drink anything she gives you!" she cried.
"But she looked so sincere!"
"Sincerity is not an antidote!"
---
That night, while recovering with the help of three detox spells and half a lemon tart, I learned more about Belladonna's family.
The Lysandre barony was infamous for its... creative liberties with ethics.
Her father once tried to sell bottled "liquid love" that made people fall in love with cabbages. Her mother believed dragons were just "misunderstood pigeons."
And apparently, years ago during a peace summit (read: noble drinking contest), my grandfather and Belladonna's father signed an engagement pact using ink made from fermented elixirs.
So here I was.
Second fiancée: unlocked.
Brewed in chaos. Served cold.
---
But here's the weird part.
Despite the near-poisonings, the mild hallucinations, and the deep existential dread Belladonna inspired...
She was kind of awesome?
She never fawned over me. She didn't care that I was the "Saint of the Line of Reinhardt" or that my cheekbones could apparently inspire revolutions.
She saw me.
The real me.
And decided I was interesting enough to experiment on.
Which, for her, was probably romantic.
She even gave me a vial before leaving.
"This is your essence," she said proudly. "Your sarcasm. Distilled."
It glowed faintly and whispered rude things when shaken.
"I call it: Sarcastium."
I looked at her, blinked... and actually laughed.
Not politely. Not awkwardly.
Genuinely.
"Thank you," I said.
She smiled. "Don't worry. I'll refine the dosage next time."
Of course.
---
Bonus Scene: Dinner Disaster – The Belladonna Aftermath
At dinner, the family gathered to discuss my new engagement.
My eldest brother, Cedric, leaned over and asked, "So. Does she breathe fire, or just sweat poison?"
"She smells like lightning," I replied.
My younger sister, Lenore, whispered, "Do you think if I drink that tea, I'll develop superpowers?"
"You'll develop hospital bills."
My mother, Duchess Aurelia, merely sipped her wine.
"She has vision," she said approvingly. "We need more girls like her at court."
Vision, sure.
Vision of turning our palace into a mushroom farm.
---
And so ends the saga of Lady Belladonna's introduction.
Two down. Two more chaos incarnates to go.
If this is love… I need better armor.
Or a panic room.
Probably both.
---
Next time on: Chapter 4 – "When Grandmothers Make Marriage Pacts While Drunk"
Yes. We're going to talk about that night.
The wine.
The oaths.
The bets.
And the reason why I have four betrothals at age seven and an entire empire rooting for my love life like it's the Grand Tournament.