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What would you do if you were a king? If you held absolute power over the entire world around you? If everyone you knew, from friends and family to strangers on the street, had no choice but to obey your orders?

Would you be wise and benevolent? Gently guiding your nation to a better future?

Would you be hands-off? Simply letting others live their lives and allowing your power to remain unused.

Or would you become a tyrannical dictator, using and abusing your power to mould the world to your whim?

I know my answer.

I would live selfishly. I would take everything I wanted, when I wanted it, however I wanted it. I would do as I please and damn any who tried to get in my way. I would become an iron-fisted despot.

Now mind you, that's not because I believe in some silly philosophy like 'might makes right' or anything like that. I recognize that corruption and tyranny or wrong...

It's just that I know myself.

'When there is a pizza, I always take the last slice.'

If I could do anything I wanted...I would certainly end up abusing that power. That's just the type of person I am.

This might seem like a strange thing to ponder so seriously, but I had a good reason.

Before me stood a large pair of double doors, covered in ornate glyphs. On the other end of that door, was my father the Emperor. And as soon I stepped through that door, as soon as I killed the last obstacle set before me...I would attain absolute power. I would become the Tyrant.

But, before I get to what happened next, perhaps I should explain things from the beginning.

---

It all started when my sister shot me a text message.

Erica:  just cme up with outline for my new story

Erica: pls read

Erica: LINK

Connor: I'll check it out later.

Erica: meannie!!!!

Erica: What r u even doin?

Connor: I'm finishing my submission for CompSci 202

Connor: You know, so I can graduate and get a real job?

Erica: KYS!!!!!

My older sister Erica, was an aspiring novelist. Though I use the term 'novelist' loosely because to call the trash she wrote novels was honestly an insult to the entire history of the Western literary canon.

You know those shitty romantic fantasy stories that are all the rage in East Asia? They follow a woman, often either a commoner or a self-insert from modern times, who inexplicably attracts either one or a whole reverse harem, of unbelievably hot and powerful men to her side. Where the power dynamics are usually crazy toxic, rapey and abusive?

You know the type. The shit titled like:

"Help, my father is the Evil Tyrant?"

"Reincarnated as a horror game NPC, I seduced the villain audaciously!" "Survival Guide of the Mad Prince's Maid!"

"The Reincarnated Villainess in the Gender Reverse World"

Literally just the female version of Isekai haremslop, but because they were targeted at women they somehow got more of a pass culturally.

Anyways, my sister was obsessed with those things. Like, every other week she would pester me to read her newest obsession. And often, chide me for not acting more like the 'Male Leads'.

"Connigton would not have let that guy speak to your girlfriend like that! You should have hit him!"

"That dude was like 6'5, you trying to get me killed?"

"Duke Revas would never let his girlfriend have men in her friend group! You need to be more possessive, or someone else will take her from you!"

"Jaden's been our friend since we were like six. Plus, he's literally the gayest man I've ever met."

"Ugh, I cannot believe you didn't buy Samantha that pretty dress for the party I suggested you get, you cheap bastard. You should always make your woman feel like a princess, you know!"

"Samantha has her own job. If she wanted a five thousand dollar jewel-studded dress, which to be clear, she does not , she could buy it her fucking self . "

In hindsight, perhaps it should not have been a surprise that my sister actually decided that her dream in life was not to get a 9-5 and live the life of a responsible adult. No, instead, she decided she was going to write her own shitty female mc romantic fantasy.

Except, instead of being originally Korean or whatever and translated, she would write it ground up for a Western audience, to introduce to American society the apparently unappreciated joy that was 'Josei novels'.

Anyways, me being the little sibling, I was the sounding board for many of her deranged ideas.

"No, it is still bestiality to fuck the werewolf in his wolf form, Erica."

"Yes, kidnapping and drugging a woman, is in fact , rape, Erica. Even if she is, quote-unquote, totally into him."

"Yes, locking your crush in a dungeon just because she smiled at another man, is in fact, fucking nutjob behaviour, Erica."

Anyway, she had just sent me her latest script, and I would soon have to look it over to give feedback. Yes, as much as I despised with the fury of ten thousand nuclear warheads, my sister writing...I still loved her, so I had to help her out with her stupid manuscript.

The new one, unlike the first few suggestions, was one of those transformation/reincarnated into a novel isekai-type josei.

The background was that a common female college student(who was described looking exactly like Erica did at that age...) was reincarnated into the world of an erotic horror novel she had read and had to figure out how to survive, all the while averting the future disaster waiting for her.

Yeah, pretty generic, but what did I expect from Erica? The Brothers Karamazov.

The 'original story' was called 'The Flower Does Not Bloom in Silence', henceforth referred to as The Flower), while the book she was actually writing and publishing was tentatively called '"I Will Raise the Bloody Tyrant Preciously!". Henceforth referred to as The Bloody Tyrant. '

The Flower, the original story, was about a crazy, bloodthirsty tyrannical prince named Florian, who was constantly tormented by terrible nightmares due to the trauma and abuse he suffered from his parents.

One day he hears a peasant girl singing a beautiful song in a forest and is soothed to sleep, where he dreams gently. Upon waking up and realizing what had happened, he searches the whole forest but does not find her. He tried other musicians, but none of them had any effect. At his wit's end, Prince Florian starts to crazily turn up the whole kingdom searching for her, since no other singing voices had the same effect.

Clearly some kind of Cinderella inspiration, though I did not mention that.

Anyways, eventually, Florian does find the girl, who is named Wisteria, and basically kidnaps her and forces her to be his personal sleep inducer. Through her overpowering pure heart charm, she slowly warms the evil prince's heart and redeems him into a good, and wise ruler...though not before they have a bunch of super extremely dubcon yandere sex. Why my sisters had to specifically storyboard a few scenes, I will never know.

Maybe r19 novels just sell better?

Anyways, the girl who read The Flower novel reincarnates as a royal princess named Serena, who is destined to be the mother of the evil prince Florian. The evil Emperor Ambrose would one day conquer her kingdom, kill her entire family and essentially force her to be his personal sex slave. Due to this abuse, she would horrifically torment their son, leaving him deeply traumatized, and setting the stage for the events of The Flower.

The kicker was that Serena only realized what novel she was in after like fifteen years of enjoying life as a royal princess since she and her family all barely mentioned side characters in The Flower. Only upon hearing a mention of 'Prince Ambrose' did she realize she was in the world of the flower.

She only had two years before Ambrose took the throne, so she ran away from her whole country, the Kingdom of Demacia, and applied to be a handmaid there. It was all a ploy so that she could meet Prince Ambrose and get on his good side.

You see, Ambrose had been born a cripple who could not use magic, which was a problem since magic basically defined nobility in the setting. The noble rulers of every country were the descendants of the mages who left the Magic Tower to conquer land. Ambrose, despite being the son of the Emperor and the Mistress of the Magic Tower, could not use it. Because of this, he was an abandoned son, treated even worse than servants, and tormented by his stepmother and step-siblings.

In the timeline of the Flower, Ambrose would actually discover at age eighteen that he had magic. In fact, he had more magic than had ever been recorded in the history of the Victarian Empire. In fact, his magic was so strong that his body could not physically handle it, so his mother sacrificed her life to seal away his power until his flesh was strong enough to handle it.

Upon age eighteen, that power awakened. Ambrose killed the entire imperial family and took the throne, before conquering and crushing the many smaller kingdoms between the Victarian Empire and the Glowing Sea. There he would meet Serena, take her as concubine, and set in stage the events that would lead to what happened in The Flower.

Thus, Tyrant!Serena's goal was to befriend and 'normalize' Ambrose before his eighteenth birthday, so as to save her entire family and prevent the events of The Flower from taking place.

My first point of criticism I noted down, was that Florian and Ambrose's story seemed a bit too similar. They were both essentially bloodthirsty abandoned princes tamed by the pure-hearted female lead. She could consider coming up with more distinct roles and relationships between them.

I skimmed ahead, reading more of the worldbuilding, planned plot arcs, and character descriptions. It was mostly generic, with a hint of originality or twist here and there. And god, was it weird to skim through the many erotic plot points described?

Seriously, did my sister have to be so unsubtle about inserting her barely disguised rape fetish into so much of the worldbuilding and plot? I blame fifty-shades-of-gey, which for reason our parents let her watch at way too young an age.

I was reading through the seventh of nine planned arcs-where Serena and the now Emperor Ambrose finally marry-when I suddenly felt my vision go black.

When the darkness finally left me...I was staring at a mirror, and a face not my own was staring back.

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The face that stared back was astoundingly beautiful. Blond hair, so lustrous that almost seemed to shine gold. Purple eyes that seemed to glitter like jewels. Skin pale and flawless, with high aristocratic cheekbones and a sharp, chiselled jawline. The face was slightly underfed, in a way that suggested chronic malnutrition. Yet the sheer beauty of the person could not be suppressed, even by hunger.

I looked to be around thirteen years old, if I were to hazard a guess.

"What the actual fuck?"

Where was I? What was going-Then it hit me all at once. The memories of the body I was in.

Ambrose Claudius Victarian.

The bastard son of Emperor Orban Victarian III and the Imperial Mage and Mistress of the Magic Tower of Victarian, Sylviana the Silver. Mistreated and abandoned by his family because of his crippled magic. Burning with deep resentment over the entire world.

The man who would one day become the bloodiest conqueror in the history of the Victarian Empire and the most powerful mage in recorded history.

I could recall each and every slight-just as Ambrose could.

I could remember the sting of pain when my(his?) half-brother had hit him(me?) in the face.

I could remember my father's sneer as he stated that I was lucky he had not tossed me off a cliff at birth.

My head throbbed as I made sense of the flood of memory. More and more came, as... Well, I would have said 'as our souls melded together', but it would be more accurate to say that I devoured him. My twenty-eight years of life easily overwhelmed his still-developing fourteen-year-old mind.

'Oh shit-oh fuck!-I reincarnated into my sister's shitty story as the Tyrant Male Lead!'

I'll skip the several hours of severe panic, anxiety and existential dread that followed. I'm sure you've already read that enough in other isekai's. Yes, it was very traumatizing to basically realize I was now suddenly in another world and that I would likely never see anyone I knew or loved ever again. Yes, I could barely believe it myself and almost questioned my sanity.

You get the gist.

However, I was always a pragmatic person. Never prone to strong emotions. What a scientist might describe as being always quick to return to my emotional baseline.

Once I was suitably calm enough for rationality, I decided that moping around and pondering existential subjects would not be useful to anyone, least of all me.

Instead, I had to get a grapple on my surroundings...and figure out just what exactly I was going to do now.

"The first and most important question...Am I In the 'original' timeline of The Flower Does Not Bloom in Silence? Or the second timeline of 'I Will Raise the Bloody Tyrant Preciously'?"

It was an important question because I would not fully understand my surroundings unless I knew. There were several key differences between the original and second timelines.

The person who reincarnated into Serena Annelose Demaci in the second or 'bloody tyrant' timeline used both her foreknowledge of the original Flower timeline and of modern technology, to change some things about the setting. For example, she invented and introduced modern foods into the world, which quickly became popular and made Demacia a center of gastronomy.

Even more importantly, she would be the only person aware of how Ambrose was 'supposed' to act in the future, and thus the only person who could theoretically notice I was not him. Furthermore, she would be attempting to avert her horrible destiny by trying to get on my good side, and would thus inevitably come to me on her own.

Meanwhile, the Serena in the original timeline of The Flower, was basically just one of many princesses from small kingdoms...only important in that she was beautiful enough to catch Ambrose's attention. We would never meet unless I decided to track her down.

I turned that matter aside-it would be easy enough to figure out once I had my bearings. Ambrose-my-memories, indicated I was fourteen. That meant four years until I awakened my magical power and became utterly unstoppable.

I paused.

Well, almost unstoppable. There was a poisoning plot in the sixth arc. But I already knew of the flower that was the only cure for the Black Dragon's Venom- which was the only poison potent enough to affect Ambrose.

It was then the door to my room opened, and I was startled. It was a maid-perhaps fifteen or sixteen. She had long black hair, wore glasses, and had a calm, unperturbed expression.

"Your royal highness," she bowed her head.

Two sets of memories hit me at once.

To Ambrose, she was just another maid-whom he barely even recognized the name of, despite her being one of the only servants to attend to him for years. He just thought of her as that serious-faced maid girl.

To me, she was Helena, a rather important side character from both timelines.

In the Flower timeline Ambrose killed every servant who had ever mocked or belittled him...which was a very good portion of them. Helena, being one of the few to never do so, was made the Head Maid. She became something of a maternal figure for Prince Florian, since his own mother abandoned and abused him.

Helena was something of a psychotically obsessed yandere who believed in the absolute obedience of a maid to her master. In the flower timeline, Wisteria attempted an escape from Florian's chambers after the first time he basically raped her, and managed to find Helena in the halls. She broke down and told the maid what was happening, and begged for her help to escape.

Helena smiled and hugged Wisteria-the only time she had ever been described as anything other than blankly emotionless. She whispered that she was glad her Master had finally found a woman who pleased him. Then, she injected a needle into Wisteria's neck and knocked her out, before taking her back to Prince Florian.

In the Blood Tyrant, which had a much lighter tone, this was played more for laughs. She served as the absurdly competent personal maid to Ambrose and Serena. Anytime one of them needed something complicated or tedious done, they would ask it of her, and she would go do it off-screen with no complaint. There were also some almost anime-style comedic scenes where anytime someone would insult Prince Ambrose, she would glare at them with this demonic visage until they nearly pissed themselves.

"Your name is Helena, correct?" I asked.

Her eyes widened slightly.

"Yes, your highness. I am honored you recall this lowly maid's name."

I gave her a gentle smile.

"Of course I do. Your excellent and devoted service has not gone unnoticed."

Was I imagining it or did the always-serious maid have a slight flush to her cheeks? Huh, she was actually kind of cute...in a sort of homely, girl-next-door way. Not the stunning beauty of a glamorous princess, but it had its own charms. I realized I had been staring at her in silence for a good ten seconds, before I spoke again.

"Well, what brings you here, Helena?"

She blinked before bowing her head.

"I usally clean your room at this time, your highness. While you are normally away in the library."

I recalled that Ambrose usually spent his mornings in the library. He did not actually particularly enjoy reading, but the Imperial Librarian demanded quiet and good manners in his domain. Not even princes were allowed to get away with disturbing that, so it was one of the few places he could be relatively safe from his siblings bullying him.

"I see."

Ambrose had not known how or why his room was clean when he came back.

"Wait-you clean this while place by yourself?" a note of incredulity entered my voice.

She nodded.

Ambrose was a disfavoured prince-but even the cold, unmaintained branch of the palace he lived in was still obscenely massive by modern standards. For one person to clean the entire thing by themselves, was sort of ridiculous.

"Are there not any other servants assigned to help you?" I asked, frowning.

I did not need her to respond to figure out the situation. No doubt, the other servants had simply decided not to do the work since they knew I could not punish them. Helena meanwhile, was ideologically dedicated, and so had taken on without complaint, the absurd task.

It did speak to her competence that she could even manage to finish such a thing each day in the hours I was in the library.

"I see..."

My immediate instinct was that I should go over to the servants ' quarters and force those layabouts to get back to work. But could I actually even do so? Ambrose had no institutional power or backing-no one I could complain to would do anything about it. Meanwhile, I was an underfed fourteen-year-old boy. Ambrose had in fact, been beaten up by servants more than once in his life.

I could perhaps try and make trouble over it, but suddenly acting out and demanding respect from servants may instead put my life in danger. The wisest thing would be to simply bide my time until my eighteenth birthday-only then would I really have the power to change anything by myself.

"Helena," I said. "From now on, I will consider you my personal maid."

I did not ask-Helena did not want someone to ask her things. She wanted a supreme, unquestionable authority to submit to. She wanted to have a guiding light always telling her what to do and when to do it. In the modern world, where servants were uncommon, someone like her would probably join a religious cult or a terrorist organization.

Her eyes widened very slightly. But then she immediately bowed deeply.

"I am honored, your highness."

"As I have more need of your time henceforth, you will only clean a section of this room per day, such that the whole room is clean fully once a week."

Unlike a medieval royal, I did not particularly care if the windows had a little dust on them. A room dusted once a week was more than fine with me.

Helena silently nodded, unquestioning of my decree.

"Good," I smiled.

Now, I had acquired one of the most competent people in the entire nation-with nothing more than a few sentences.

'Next priority is probably to get my food situation sorted out,' I thought, looking down at my too-thin, bony arms.

"Helena-have you ever heard of a Demacian dish called Pizza?" I asked.

"Yes, your highness," she said.

Well, that settled which timeline I was in...
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I would need funds to purchase food for myself-if I went to the kitchen the servants there would just kick me out. I could dumpster dive in the Onyx Palace's trash. Like most nobles, there was a ton of good food just thrown out-but I was not sure if that was actually safe or if I would contract some horrific disease.

"Helena, I want you to get in contact with a black market figure known as the Crimson Rabbit."

The Crimson Rabbit, whose real name was Joost Yardenburg, was the son of a fallen noble house. He sought to restore his house to fortune by means of starting and controlling a black market in the capital city. By the time the Bloody Tyrant started, which was in two years, he would be a lead controlling figure in the Empire's underworld.

There was a statement that 'it took him five years to go from a penniless orphan to the most powerful man in Victarian's underworld'.

We were two years away from the start of the Bloody Tyrant since I was only fourteen. That meant Joost was probably influential but only to a medium degree. In the next two years, he would become the empire's most powerful black market dealer and information gatherer. 

He was one of those Second Male Leads, who existed just for the sake of introducing slight doubt as to whether the Female Leads, or FL, would end up with the main ML. Even though everyone knew they obviously would…Unless it was a Reverse Harem where she would claim all of them.

In the bloody tyrant's first arc, Serena would realize she was in the setting of the Flower. Wishing to save her family, she would run away to the Onyx Palace in the capital city of the Victarian Empire. Being a princess, albeit of a minor nation, she easily got a job as one of the many handmaidens of the Princess Armenia.

She would have a few interactions with Prince Ambrose, mainly running into him in the library, and trying to befriend him through kindness, which only irritated the black-hearted ML. 

In the second arc, she would audaciously declare to Ambrose that she wished to become his magic tutor. This infuriated Ambrose and he even threatened to kill her. To win him over, she used her foreknowledge about an inventor who would one day invent devices called Magic Tools, which became commonplace by the time of Prince Florian and the events of the Flower.

She met the inventor and with her powerful royal magic to experiment with, and funds to buy materials, helped him finish his device early. She purchased a few prototypes and gave them to Ambrose. Being the first person to allow him to experience the wonder of magic that he had always envied from a distance, he warmed up to her and accepted her as his magic tutor.

During that second arc, she had met with the Crimson Rabbit a few times to buy rare materials they needed. It was there she attracted his interest, and later his love and devotion.

Anyway, the important thing for me was that as the novel described him, Joost always kept to his world and never cheated anyone. How someone like that could ever become successful in a cutthroat criminal underworld, I will simply accept it as my sister's shitty worldbuilding.

But the important bit was that I knew I could basically trust him not to rip me off...

"Sell him a few of the paintings in the abandoned wing." 

Despite being looked down upon and given no resources, the abandoned wing of the Onyx Palace where Ambrose lived, was still filled with tons of furniture, paintings, vases etc, and since so few servants came here, it was not like anyone would notice if a piece or two went missing.

While common to the palace, such items would fetch a pretty penny in the outside world, more than enough to afford a few years' worth of nutritious food.

"Once you have the money, discreetly store the proceeds in an account in the New Victarian Bank. If you tell them the Crimson Rabbit sent you, they will allow you to set up an account under a false name-make it... Johnathon Denmark. And bring me the account's checking card."

This was something that Joost would mention to Serena-that he had founded and controlled the New Victarian Bank and used it to launder money.

"Yes, Your Highness," Helena nodded. 

It was honestly amazing and reassuring that she did not even question my out-of-the-blue request to become involved with a notorious criminal. Helena really was the perfect maid. I gave her a winning smile. 

Now, I would go to the library. While I knew the plot of the story up to the seventh arc, there were still many things about the world neither I nor the original Ambrose knew. For all the time he spent there, Ambrose did not actually read very much.

I, on the other hand, was a total nerd who loved books. You did not go into CompSci unless you were a little autistic. Learning about the rest of the setting would be very interesting.

---

I had wondered how worldbuilding details not explicitly covered by my sister's initial notes would manifest themselves now that I was actually in the setting.

Some part of me had feared there would just be an outright void of nothingness, that the world would obviously be that of a story and there would simply be gaps in history anywhere Erica had not deigned to fill in.

That turned out not to be the case. This was a real world, filled with real people. There were other countries, hell even entire other continents never mentioned in her initial draft.

Victarian ruled the majority of the continent of Amorania, the rest of it being ruled by a hodgepodge of numerous minor kingdoms, city-states and greco-roman style republics. 

It was separated from the rest of the world by the vast Glowing Sea. Far, far to the east the vast majority of the world is made up of three rotating landmasses called the Triplets. 

According to legend, once, Amorania had no mages, until the founder of the Maic Tower washed up on its shores-supposedly having come from across the Glowing Sea.

Details about the Triplets were extremely scarce, and myth and legend were interwoven with actual fact in a dizzying way. The only thing I was sure of was that the Triplets existed, were really far away, and were a lot more populous and advanced than Amorania. Many legends also said they were a land where everyone could use magic-but I was not sure if those could be trusted. 

As I went to put back the book I had just finished 'Notes on Global Geography by the Assorted Scholaricae of Westland University', I noticed someone else.

A head of blonde hair, tucked away in a pile of books in the corner of the library. That must be Prince Steffon. He was the only other member of the Imperial Family that spent much time in the library.

Steffeon was the second son of the Royal Mistress, Lady Whiterow. His older brother Reynaldo was one of the two main candidates to become the next Emperor alongside the Empress's second son Claudius. Ambrose could recall the many times the martially inclined Reynalod had used him as a practice dummy-beating him black and blue with a wooden training sword. 

You see, in the Victarian Empire, birth order, class and gender mattered far less than magical power did. While it was still technically default that the eldest son inherited, that was just an archaic legal relic of the time before Mages took control over secular governance. In reality, most of the time the child with the most magical power would inherit, be they daughter or second son or even a bastard, over a less talented first son. 

I could feel a dark, bubbling hatred well up within me-Ambrose's utter, visceral hatred for the other royals burning through me like cold venom.

But...while Ambrose had just assumed that all royals were the same, I had a more mature outlook and a better understanding of youth group dynamics. Really, only four of Ambrose's siblings actually cared to torment him. Agrippa, Claudius, Emmaline and Reynaldo. The rest of Emperor Orban's vast brood either scarcely interacted with him, or only occasionally bullied him due to peer pressure.

Steffon rarely took part in Reynaldo's 'Cripple Hunts', and when he did, he actually looked more uncomfortable than anything. 

Sure, being an indifferent bystander to horrific bullying was bad...but it was sort of standard human behaviour. No one wanted to risk their neck to defend a cripple, especially not when the Emperor's two most powerful children hated him.

Plus, Ambrose had sort of passively accepted all his siblings hated him and never made much of an attempt to reach out. Even in the comparatively lighter timeline of the Bloody Prince, where Serena convinced him not to kill some of his siblings, he still exiled all the ones he spared to a distant manor in the middle of nowhere, under heavily armed guard. 

I wondered if I could do better.

But that would be an idea for later. For now, I would just continue my preparations in the background, before risking myself by interacting with a sibling I barely knew. 

---

After five or six hours of reading, I stretched my back and began to make my way back to my room. Five hours of reading was literally nothing compared to some of the crunch sessions I had in university. Seriously, my mathematics teacher was such an unbelievable fuck for the amount of reading he assigned us. 

I stepped inside and found Helena kneeling on the floor in wait.

"You may stand," I said.

She did so, bowing her head again, before retrieving a card from her pocket. My eyes flicked to the pale cleavage-the maid's uniform cut just low enough I could see down the valley of her fatty tits.

"For further notice, if you are to wait for me, you shall sit on a chair. Do not strain your knees," I ordered. 

From my memories of Helena from the bloody tyrant timeline, it was always important to order her to relax explicitly. As if, if you said 'You may take a vacation day'...she just wouldn't. After all, you gave her the choice...and she chose not to. So, you had to phrase things like "You will take a vacation day."

I reached out and grabbed the card. Sure enough, it read "Johnathon Denmark, VIP Client of the New Victarian Bank."

"Wonderful job, Helena." 

I reached out and stroked her smooth black hair. A slight tinge of pink grew on her cheeks. I felt a sort of magnetism guiding me, as I leaned closer towards her until our noses were almost touching.

​

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My second hand placed itself on her hips. She twitched slightly but did not speak. My hand slowly slid down her back, until it was resting atop the meat of her ass.

Still, she said nothing. She just stared up into my eyes with a forced calm. But the atomic red blush of her cheeks gave away her inner feelings.

'I wonder just how far can I go-I wonder what I would have to do to make her break her silence.'

My hand squeezed the soft meat of her ass. 

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My fingers sank into the meaty flesh of her bottom. Her jiggy behind had the firm center you'd expect from a labourer but was covered by a thick layer of plushness. It was quite satisfying to pinch and squeeze and twist and I did so with open relish.

My hands roamed across her bottom as I groped her to my heart's delight. I could feel her warm breath on my cheek. Her eyes, wide like a doe stared into mine with a look almost like confused acceptance. Her cheeks were deliciously flushed an alluring pink-red.

I take it back. She was not 'actually kind of cute'. She was fucking scrumptious.

Her breathing sped up as my fingers took another firm handful of her bountiful behind. Even with her thick maid uniform in the way, I could feel her body temperature rising.

My hand, with painful acceptance of the necessity, removed themselves from her well-portioned ass. I let them slide off her body for a long moment, staring straight into her dilated pupils. Then with suddenness, my hands shot onto her chest, taking copious handfuls of her tits.

I took no care to be gentle or considerate with my groping. She was for me anyway. I roughly squeezed and kneaded her doughy, plentiful tits. They may be sort or bruised later but that was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

I could feel my cock growing hard in my silken breeches. So close were we that it pressed up hard against her soft stomach. I was sure she could feel it. Her eyes darted down for a short moment as if to confirm with her sight what her sense of touch had informed her.

She looked back into my eyes and there was an almost shared sense of understanding in them. She understood this was going to happen but was going to mount no objections.

Still, she had, from the start of the session, made no noise but soft breathing. Not even a lusty sigh or suppressed 'unf'. Some primal part of my masculinity reared its head-demanding I extract a noise of pleasure from the beautiful thing before me.  At least once before the session ended.

I shoved her forward until her back was leaning on the wall of my bedchambers. Shifting my weight, I pushed a knee in between her legs and jammed it up until it was pressing against her vagina. With one hand, I grabbed her waist-and began to rock it so that her fabric-covered cunt was grinding up and down my knee. The other I left on her poor, abused right tit-which I kept molesting and squeezing with the over-eager excitement of a young boy. Which I suppose I was now.

Her eyes did not leave mine-nor waver. Still, she made no noise. Not even when, after a few minutes she began to visibly tremble and cum all over my knee. A powerful shot of fem-fluid shooting forth to soak my pantaloons.

At that, a roguish grin grew on my face. I was what most would consider quite the selfish lover-but that did not mean I was incapable of appreciating the simple pleasure of a job well done.

Helena seemed to rapidly blink for a moment, then her eyes widened.

"Your highness-My apologies-This lowly maid dared to sully-"

I pressed my thumb into her mouth and rested it on her tongue and lower lip. She stilled once more.

"Bear it no mind- I was expecting something like that to happen. You will, however need to wash my outfit and yours."

She silently nodded, eyes still wide.

She bowed once more and began to remove my pants. I stood still, allowing her to work. Once she had removed the outer layer, I motioned with my hand for her to continue. She did so, pulling down my underwear.

Now, look, I was fourteen years old...and yet my penis was basically the same size as it had been on my fully grown previous body.

Fucking stupid ass 'royal genetics'. Somehow I felt inadequate, even though my previous dick had been a whole inch over average.

'A fourteen-year-old shouldn't have a six-inch dick. I'm sure Erica's stupid world-building is at fault. She must have written something like 'Ambrose had a ten-inch cock by the time he was an adult' or something...'

I reached down to grab my dick...and then paused.

Why the hell should I ever masturbate again when I had a perfectly good maid?

It was then and there, I swore an oath to heaven. That I would never ever, for as long as I lived, masturbate again. Wouldn't it just be too pathetic if I continued to jerk it like a virgin now that I had a completely subservient woman?!

"Helena, do you know how men masturbate?" I asked.

Her cheeks flushed again.

"I apologize my Lord. I do not," she said.

I had forgotten this was a medieval society. She probably did not know anything about masturbation other than that it caused blindness or something. Come to think of it, did she even know what an orgasm was, or did she think she had just pissed all over my leg?

No wonder she had seemed so embarrassed.

I thought about explaining things, but for some reason...it felt hotter not to. To order her to do a bunch of confusing things with no explanation. To force her to follow along out of blind faith with no understanding.

'I would make a terrible manager...'

"Helena, please place your hand on my penis. But be very gentle," I warned her.

She did so with no hesitation. God, this woman was far too loyal for her own good. Thankfully for her, she was taken by me, and not some other owner who would mistreat her...at least more than I was.

Looking curiously up at me with wide eyes, her pupils-which before seemed to be a boring brown, now seemed to sparkle a gem-like amber hue. I finally understood what they meant by 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.'

"Start to gently but firmly tug on it-not like that, back and forth, yes that's better. Ah, keep going. A bit faster-Fuck!"

"Is something wrong-" A jet of thick, almost steamy white glaze erupted from the purple tip of my dick.

The jet stream of thick white baby batter hosed across her face, forcing her eyes to shut under the flood assault of thick, sticky dick glue. I felt my cheeks flush in embarrassment and felt glad she could not see at the moment.

To be fair, Ambrose was fourteen, and it was entirely possible this body had never even masturbated before. He did not have the sexual stamina of me, a certified edging master who had three long-term relationships.

"N-no Helena, Nothing is wrong. In fact, what just happened is very good. When my dick sprays white stuff out like that, it means you have done a very, goo job, and that I am proud of you. From now on, you are going to make sure to get some of that every day. Oh and, spread it across your face. It's good for the skin."

She obediently followed my words, reaching up with her pale hands and rubbing out my thick dick gloop all across her cute face. I almost felt my dick twitch again out of sheer arousal from the act.

'Man...She's like sixteen right? Well, legal in some US states. That's good enough for me.'

"Oh and Helena...this is soemthing you should never do with any man but me, nderstand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good girl."

I patted her hair fondly, before spending a minute just running my fingers through her hair.

It was something I always did to my girlfriend Sam after sex-I suddenly felt my stomach twist a little.

Yeah...was I in some way cheating on her now? I paused for a moment, before shaking my head.

I would probably never see Sam again. And even if I did somehow find a way to return to my original world... I was hardly going to hold off from sex for however many years or decades that would take. Especially not with hot and obedient girls like Helena at my beck and call.

If I ever met Sam again, she would have to get used to sharing.

---

I'd had Helena start going out to purchase good, storable foods from the local markets. Hard cheese, dried meats and fruit, rye bread, nuts and the like. All easily funded by the auctioning of a gold-framed painting or two.

I still had more than enough left for any other purposes. I had the vague idea to start buying up businesses to create passive income. However, I knew about as much about business as the average modern person did. I had majored in CompSci after all. I still had the suspicion that implementing a few modern ideas like assembly lines, double-entry bookkeeping, and weekends off would allow me to have superior productivity to my competitors.

I also knew that the medieval economy was likely not a very free market, and you usually needed noble sponsorship to have any chance of success. I would have to look more into the details later.

---

I continued studying in the library, filling in my gaps in knowledge on the politics and history of the Amoranian continent and its people.

One thing that was difficult for me to grasp with, was the blatant and unambiguous bias of each book. Sure, historians in the modern world could be biased-but there was a much stronger expectation of neutrality, and 'hearing out the other side' and the like. There was no such concept in the books I was reading.

'In the thirty-ninth year of Emperor Rean I's Reign, driven by no justification other than their savage and rapacious lust, and by the incorrigibility of their condemnable natures, the Koran mounted a barbaric slaughter along the western border of our nation. The then Emperor, being of a just and stern temperament, responded swiftly to protect the dignity and livelihood of our people and holdings. He embarked on a march, burning down every Koran village in the West Lake Region, until naught of their people remained but an empty, barren womb. A total desolation and destruction from whence it be that no more of that poisonous and vile race could ever spew forth to once more darken the bright halls of civilized men.

Emperor Rean had this speech to say after he had returned from his triumphant campaign.

Now, the great doth triumph over the lowly

Now, the bright doth triumph over the dark

The clean over the dirty, the modest over the arrogant, the good over the evil.

By our strength of arms and fortitude of unimpeachable character, we have, with no exaggeration, wiped utterly clean this earth of that infestation most foul. 

That plague most fetid whom the world hath dub 'Koran'.

And in the doing of such valorious deed, we honour everything held sacred by our ancestors, and in modest ambition, have acquired great bounty to spread fairly amongst our peoples.'

...Except, this was the seventh such occurrence of some small, out-of-the-way group launching an 'unprovoked' attack on the much larger and more powerful Victarian Empire. Only to then be immediately genocided, and have their former lands colonized by an influx of Victarian settlers. Why any tribe or small confederation would ever do such a thing was beyond me.

I had no evidence but my own suspicion, but I really think this Emperor Rean might not have been the nicest of fellows...

Well, there was nothing I could do about it, so I guess there was no point in mulling it over any longer.

I put back the 'Record of Manifest Destiny' onto its shelf. I tilted my head slightly and momentarily met the eyes of my half-brother Steffon. With an almost guilty look, he tore his eyes from mine and returned to the book he was reading.

Well, it might not be smart, but I felt like taking a risk. I turned towards my brother and began to approach.

...

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Chapter Text

Steffon was a bit younger than I was, perhaps a few months to a year. He was considerably shorter as well. His face resembles mine but was, well maybe softer was the polite way of saying it. Girlier would be more accurate. His own blonde hair was a lighter, duller shade and his eyes were the standard royal blue. My own purple eyes I had inherited from my, or this body's mother, The former Imperial Mage Sylviana.

He seemed almost confused as I slowly and obviously walked towards his table. I stopped just a few footsteps away.

"What do you want cripple?" he asked tersely, though there was a hint of nervousness.

Yeah, I could see why the original Ambrose, being a fourteen-year-old, neglected child, would have hated the entire imperial family and never bothered reaching out to ingratiate himself with them. Unlike the original Ambrose, I had the emotional maturity of a university-aged adult, so the ignorant words of a child could never offend me.

More importantly, I had read the summary of his entire existence that was Erica's notes on the imperial family. That, combined with my superior adult emotional regulation, meant that 'befriending' him should be quite easy. I knew, at least from a broad perspective, all his interests, fears, likes and dislikes. At least the ones defining enough to be written down.

"Hey, are you reading Gafford's 'Account of the Koranian Invasion'?" I asked. "Oh, that's a great read- with well-written prose uncommon in academic texts, though I'd personally find that his account leaves out some details of moderate importance that were included in some dryer texts, like Burback's 'A Detailing of the West Lakes Region'".

He seemed a little shocked I was talking to him at all, but like most semi-autistic nerdy kids, you give them an opening to talk about their hyperobession, and they would go off no matter who was asking. His face lit up as he began.

"Oh yes, Gafford knows that making a historical text interesting is just as important to conveying information as accuracy is. I have not read Burback's account yet but I will after. You know, there's a saying, 'Burback will tell you what happened, but Gafford will tell you why it happened'."

Gafford and Burback were two giants in the history of historical literature. As Steffon stated, Gafford tended to omit unimportant dry details in favour of a clearer, easier-to-understand narrative, while Burback was far more thorough and accurate but boring and sometimes, seemed to miss the understanding of the broad course of events Gafford captured. Burback would list a series of events in order, but Gafford would explain the trend.

Of course, both were incredibly biased in favour of the Victarian Empire, but I would take what I could get.

The two of us spent a good fifteen minutes talking about the Koranian 'Invasion' as history knew it. I tried my best not to let slip my own ideas on the topic, since I could tell Steffon was really quite patriotic. So I just matched his energy. I had to get on his good side before I could subvert his beliefs or anything like that.

He seemed he had forgotten he was talking to a cripple until the topic of our talk came to a party he was invited to.

"Oh yeah-brother, on the topic of the West Lakes Region, Duchess Sophia is holding a ball in a week-are you coming?"

I did notice he finally called m brother and not cripple, so I must have been making some progress.

I shrugged.

"I doubt I'm invited," I shrugged.

He paused at that, seemingly unsure of what to say next. I decided to move the talk along

"The real question is are you going?" I teased. "Going to a boring party doesn't seem like it would be much fun for you."

Perhaps I had been a bit overfamiliar, because he crossed his arms and scowled.

"And what do you know about what I like, cripple?" he said tersely.

Well, so much for progress.

"It's because I'm a cripple that I know," I shrugged. "Because I'm not important, people feel free to chat and gossip in front of me in a way they would not for a real prince like you."

Man, I was glazing a little hard here, but he was just a kid so I doubted he would be all that good at noticing my blatant manipulation.

"And you knwo what they say about you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned in a little excited. Everyone's favourite topic was themselves. No one could resist wanting to know what others thought of them. It was a basic ingrained survival reflex of the social human animal. If those in your tribe did not like you, you were fucked, so people were always checking to make sure they were liked. It was the reason even famous celebrities and billionaires would Google themselves on the internet.

"They say that Prince Steffon is the smartest of the Emperor's children, but that he prefers the company of books to that of people, as is the case with most geniuses."

At this point, I was practically verbally fellating him, but the smile on his face told me it was working.

"Really? People really think that?" he asked.

No. Of course not, idiot. Did you really think anyone would ever pay attention to the quiet, bookish nerd Steffon when your older brother Reynaldo is you, but better in every way that matters? More powerful at magic, more talented with martial subjects, more charismatic, and more favoured by the Emperor?

That was the actual situation. But it was not what I told him.

"Of couse. It's what everyone thinks."

He smiled again, dumbly. And I knew I had him.

---

Over the next few days, I continued spending most of my day in the library. I began my new, more nutritious diet and immediately felt more energized. I would return to my room in the evening and do some basic callisthenics. Just some pushups, situps, burpees and other simple exercises to help start getting my body to a basic level of fitness.

I also made sure to chat with Steffon a bit more. I felt his walls were slowly cracking, and he began to speak more earnestly about me.

But my beginner's luck had just run out, and a mid-boss had wandered from its zone to party wipe my ass.

As I made my way back from my chamber to the library, I halted as I noticed a man walking through it, looking quite angry. Our eyes met, and from the primordia terror that gripped my heart, I knew I was fucked.

It was Prince Agrippa, the Emperor's eldest son. More importantly, he was also by far the most sadistic and cruel of all Ambrose's siblings.

He was a fat, balding thirty-year-old. The expensive suit that stretched over his fat almost reminded me of the old saying about swine on a pearl. I knew from Erica's notes why Agrippa was the way he was. Not only was he raised by a distant father and overbearing mother but despite being the Emperor's eldest son, he was outstaged in every way by his younger brother, the Crown Prince Claudius, who was the Emperor's most powerful and outstanding child.

He and Claudius had some similarities to Reynaldo and Steffon-though unlike Steffon who had his intelligence and good nature going for him, Agrippa was pretty worthless in every general way he could be compared to Claudius. Furthermore, unlike Claudius who had a pretty sterling reputation, Agrippa was mocked for his fatness, his tendency to drink and waste money gambling and a million other vices. And that inferiority complex became the motive for him to abuse his power over others make himself taste, for just a moment, the feeling of being on top.

He raped maids, murdered servants and brutally beat people for the lightest of excuses. He had several bastards from the afore mention rapes, and had, according to the rumours, beaten an eleven-year-old son of his to death at while drunk.

Now, ironically enough, it was only his lack of importance that let him get away with such actions. If either Claudius or Reynaldo, the two main competitors for the throne acted in such an insane manner, they would be quietly assassinated. No one wanted a crazy emperor that would plunge the nation into chaos or oppress the nobility. However, who cared if an unimportant prince killed a servant here or there?

His eyes lit up with the cruel glee of a petty cunt as he saw me.

"Hmm? You lowly cripple? How dare you meet my eyes and not kneel!" he sneered.

Of course, there was literally no action I could have taken to avert what was happening next. Even if I had fallen to my knees and treated Agrippa like a literal walking manifestation of god, he would still find some excuse to beat me. Even something as inane as breathing too loudly. An excuse he had actually used on Ambrose before.

I briefly considered the idea of trying to flatter him into complacenc,y like I had Steffon-narsisdtic sociopaths always loved flattery-but my position was so low in comparison to Agrippa that he would probably take my flattery as more insulting than complimentary. Like 'oh wow, only the cripple likes you?'

"If you plan on using those eyes so disrespectfully, then I will put them in thier place."

Agrippa raised his ring and a blast of reddish smoke fired out. I tried to close my eyes but it was too late. I felt my entire face erupt with agony as the magical equivalent of concentrated pepper spray scratched into my eyes and a thousand needles of pain began to burn and rip into my lungs.

I collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. I could not see or smell or even breathe. Thick gobs of saliva tore out of my mouth as I gagged and coughed and hacked over the floor. Agrippa walked past me, and I felt a sturdy kick to the side of my ribs, which erupted in pain as the force of my flesh pushing into the bone made a horrible bruise

I lay there on the hard tile floor in helpless agony for a long while, though I could not keep track of the time. Perhaps thirty minutes to an hour. Eventually, I felt someone pick me up and begin to carry me.

Words were said, but in my hazy state, I could not really make them out over the burning, scratching pain.

---

When I awoke, I was in bed. My eyes were still a little puffy and painful, but the majority of the irritation was gone. The adult part of me welled up in rage. What kind of psychotic piece of shit pepper sprays a child for no reason? No fucking wonder Ambrose killed the imperial family in the Flower timeline.

'I don't plan on going the whole 'kill every person I have any relation to' plan to, but you Agrippa...you just signed your own death warrant.'

I know I had decided to keep my head down until my magical power awakened in four years, but...Damnit, I had my pride as a man. What kind of person could take being abused without having any way to fight back? Surely there was some way to have Agrippa assassinated or killed or exiled or something? Maybe if I found evidence of him raping a noble girl? I was sure it had happened since it was mentioned in his character notes he would prey on commoners and lesser nobles, but would I ever be able to prove it?

As I was mulling over thoughts of Fratricide, the door to my rooms opened, and a woman walked in. My eyes opened slightly.

"Miss Jeyne?" I asked in surprise.

"It's me!" she smiled.

Jeyne had been Ambrose's nursemaid as a baby and something of a mother figure in his life. His own mother was dead and could not nurse him. And while he was unfavoured as a cripple, it would be quite embarrassing if a son of the Emperor literally starved to death.

I recalled reading that she had retired to become a stay-at-home mom when Ambrose was eight, and had only returned to work when he was fifteen. So why was she here now?

The answer to my question was not in the story notes, but rather Ambrose's memories. Although she had retired, Jeyne still visited Ambrose every now and again throughout the years. Since her husband was a palace scribe, she was allowed access. She-

I felt my cheeks blush at the sight of her because...wow, Ambrose had such a massive childhood crush on her and I could literally feel my erection growing under the sheets from his emotions.

As I was saying, Jeyne had been included in the plot of the Bloody Tyrant, though in a pretty sad role. She and her entire family had died of the Green Wasting, a not uncommon disease that slowly killed. The issue was, there was a cure for it. Ambrose just had no money to afford it. The usually prideful Ambrose had even fallen to his knees and begged his father for the money to purchase the cure.

Emperor Orban III told him that, first of all, he was too old to still have a nursemaid, but if he really needed one, the Emperor could just buy him another, since it would be cheaper. Then he shooed Ambrose away so he could go fuck one of his mistress's. There was a rather cynical observation stated in the notes that just one of the rare endangered animals the emperor had been eating cost the palace enough to cure ten people of the Green wasting.

God, no wonder even the kinder Ambrose in the Bloody Tyrant Timeline had still killed his father, even with Serena to soften him. Erica really just loved stacking on the trauma onto her male lead, didn't she? God forbid how sad the original flower timeline Ambrose with no Serena to comfort him had been.

It was even more tragic because the FL, being a princess, had more than enough money to buy the medicine, but had arrived a year too late. Erica had noted that she wanted a scene where Ambrse would break down crying and Serena would comfort him, but had not been entirely sure when she wanted the scene to happen.

However, in this life, I was sure I would have more than enough money to save her.

"What b-brings you to the palace?" I said.

My cheeks were flushed with embarassment-Ambrose must have really loved her because this was the strongest his emotions had ever affected me, even more so than the instinctual hatred and fear I felt in front of Agrippa.

...

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Chapter Text

"Oh, I just came to visit my husband Bron," Jeyne said. "And of course, to see my dear young master!"

With that she grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug, stuffing my face into the warmth of her utterly fucking  enormous  titties. My cheeks flushed red in both embarrassment and arousal.  I felt my erection strain even harder, and with a twitch, I knew I had likely gotten some pre-cum all over my underwear.

Jeyne was the only person Ambrose had ever let treat him with any familiarity or affection. Her death had been all the more devastating as a result.

"I'm not a baby," I muttered.

I was unsure if that feeling was coming from my wounded adult's pride at being treated like a child...or even worse, from Ambrose's childish desire to be perceived as an adult. Either way, I suppressed the childish desire to pull away. Instead, I took the opportunity to enjoy pressing my face deeper into her warm, pillowy cleavage. Her breasts were soft and fleshy and had a sweet, milky scent to them that overpowered my nostrils. She was definitely still lactating. Given how old her children were, she was probably selling the milk. She could have made a lot of money as a big-tit fetish porn star in my old world.

'And given how fucking mind-boggling massive those chest puppies are, she must be making a good bit off her side hustle. Like, seriously, I know this was a fantasy world and all, but like how did she not have  back problems?   They must be like  J cups  or something! It's very possible Erica just idly wrote something stupid like 'the average breast size is a D-cup' because she found it hot, without thinking the biological and evolutionary differences that might entail in the population.'

I found that milky sweet scent of her chest to be incredibly erotic and took a few deep inhales, my cheeks and nose smushing deeper into her pliable tit flesh. Of course, Jeyne saw nothing but the innocent young boy she had raised, desperately hugging her after a traumatic experience.

"Oh my," she crooned. "Don't worry. You'll be  all  right. I'm here for you now."

'...This better not awaken something weird in me,' I sighed, though I already knew it was too late. 

Hmm. I decided to take a calculated risk. I let out a loud hiss of pain and, with one hand, clutched at my throat. 

Jeyne pulled back, face wrinkled with worry.

"What is it? Does it still hurt?"

"My throat..." I murmured. "I breathed in the spray. My throat burns. It  really  hurts."

"Oh, my poor boy," she ran her fingers through her hair. "It will be all right. I sent your maid to get some water to wash your face, so you can drink that."

I shook my head.

"No, water won't help! I read in a book, the burning caused by spice needs to be treated with milk."

"Oh dear me! I'll go fetch some from the kitchen right away," she said.

"No!" I whined, doing my best to play the spoiled young boy having a tantrum. "That's too far away! It really hurts! Please, don't go away!"

I could see the clockwork ticking in her head. The first moment the idea occurred to her. The initial brush off that she would never. The following hesitation, as I continued to clutch desperately at my throat and hiss in mock pain. 

"Well, there is one thing we could do..." Her voice trailed off. 

I could see the blush of embarrassment on her face at the idea of breastfeeding a fourteen-year-old boy. 

"What is it?" I asked innocently.

"You could... you know, drink some of..." She blushed deeply. "My breastmilk."

My eyes widened in surprise, as though that had not been my ploy this entire time.

"Can I?" I asked eagerly.

"You have to close your eyes," she instructed. "You're in puberty now, so it's against public morals for you to see my chest."

I shook my head. 

"This is a medical treatment," I pointed out. "Stuff like that doesn't apply. Besides, I don't want to accidentaly spill milk on my clothes-these are really expensive you know."

They weren't.

I could see her hesitation, so I went for the death blow.

"Aaaagh!" I loudly groaned. "It really hurts!"

"Oh, sweetheart," she sighed.

She tugged down the neckline of her clothing, revealing two enormous orbs of titty fat bound in wraps of linen. The area around the nipple was soaked in what was obviously leaking milk. The sight of that sent me even further into my lust. I could only hope Jeyne was too busy undressing to notice my blatant eyefucking of her tasty teats. 

'All according to Keikaiku! Translator's Note, Keikaiku means plan!'

She spent a moment unwrapping the two glorious orbs, which fell forward with a rippling jiggle as they were freed of any support.

'Holy God, Jesus, Allah, Buddha or whomever it was that sent me to this world-I praise and thank you with every part of my being!'

My eyes were wide as saucers as I took in the sight. I almost forgot to pretend to be in pain, or at least more pain than I actually was.

"Aaaaaaaagh," I hissed in a low tone.

Jeyne's face fell.

"Here, scoot a bit closer to the dge," she instructed.

I did so, pulling forward until I was leaning past the edge of the bed with my head. She took a seat next to me, her milky treats wobbling gently with each motion.

I could not wait a moment longer, so I lurched forward and captured one glorious dark pink nipple in my mouth. I was immediately rewarded with a spray of blessed, life-giving nectar. 

'That tastes fucking great,' I thought.

I suckled, my lips squeezing on her giving teat, and more of the milk came with each gulp. 

I sat there, face smushed into her tits and suckling for a good ten minutes. The sweet, feminine scent of her body enveloped me. I could feel my furiously burning erection throb and twitch with each moment. My balls clenched with a soreness, overfull with semen. It was as if I were a machine directly converting her milk into  mine . 

It was at this point that my good maid Helena entered the room, carrying two buckets of water. She calmly nodded in my direction, making no note of surprise at the sight of me and the topless Jeyne.

I let go of the nipple, a bit of the thick, fatty milk dribbling down the corner of my mouth.

"My throat feels a lot better..."

Ambrose would normally call her Miss Jeyne, but I saw an opportunity for further manipulation.

"Mom- I mean Miss," I turned my head to the side in feigned embarrassment.

Jeyne's eyes widened slightly before she, perhaps forgetting she was topless, engulfed me in another crushing hug.

"Don't worry, my dear boy," she smiled.

She leaned down, pressing her face into my hair.

"I've always thought of you as the son I never had! So, hearing you call me mom... really  makes me glad." Her voice wobbled a little at the end.

I could feel tears prickling at the corner of my own eyes. A foreign emotion rose up in me, from the neglected corners of Ambrose's lonely heart. However, even the tenderness of the moment could not erase how arousing I found it to have my face smushed into the naked tits of a hot older woman. Only the exertion of every drop of self-control I had remaining stopped me from nutting in my pants that very second. 

'Jesus! This woman's mere presence is like crack-cocaine to me...Ambrose really just died and left me his severe mommy issues!' 

"Miss, I have returned with the water," Helena finally spoke up.

Like a good maid, she had been silent and nearly invisible in the corner of the room as she watched us. Jeyne had not even noticed her come in. The older woman yelped and spun around to look at Helena, before desperately tugging her linen back over her fatty chest-warmers. 

"Oh-Yes, good Helena...Please help the lord face- I mean, wash his face- I uh, have to go see Mister Bron now," Jeyne instructed.

"You're leaving?" The sadness in my tone was genuine.

She nodded, looking a bit hesitant.

"I have to go now. My husband is already expecting me." she said.

Then her eyes widened.

"Ambrose-I mean, young master...what would you think of coming for dinner to my home sometime? It's been a while since you've seen Melody."

Melody was not someone mentioned in Erica's draft, but Ambrose's memories informed me she was Jeyne's daughter, unnamed in the original script. She and Ambrose were 'milk siblings', a term for people who had been nursed by the same woman. She had also been a frequent playmate of his when he was very young. Though he had not seen her since he was like six. Melody too, was fated to die of the Green Wasting in about a year's time. 

I thought the offer over for a minute.

Now speaking strictly, in the Victarian Empire, an offer like this would be considered so beyond improper it delved into the realm of capital offence. Any other royal would have a servant whipped for such an absurd suggestion as visiting a mere commoner's home. I was not an ordinary royal, however. I was a mere cripple. And Jeyne was not just any servant, but one who was close to my heart.

Even still, the original Ambrose would have easily rejected the offer. He had a sort of insecure aristocratic pride to him. 

Something like 'because I am hated and looked down upon, I must do everything to be a perfect noble'. 

It was why he had never bothered to befriend any other servants or commoners. Part of the idea being that him 'stooping' to interact with those of common birth would only prove to his other siblings that he  really   was more of a commoner than a royal!

Like 'Look at that Cripple-finally chumming out with his own kind instead of pretending to be one of us. Good riddance!'

I, however, was a lot less conceited. First of all, it was doubtful anyone but Helena would even notice. And secondly, my reputation could hardly get much worse with most of my siblings anyway. Building connections to servants was actually a far more cogent short-term way of attaining power and resources. For example, if I managed to befriend someone in the kitchen, I might not have to waste my own money buying food anymore. 

Although, sadly for poor Jeyne, I was already pondering perhaps the most immoral action since I had arrived in this world.

'Her husband...I need him out of the way. Jeyne is fucking MINE!'

Now, had I just decided to murder an innocent man for no other reason than I wanted his wife to be more available to me? Yes. 

Did I feel guilty? Honestly... a little, but for entirely the wrong reason. 

I only felt bad about the fact that Jeyne would be sad. Yet I felt no guilt at the abstract idea of murdering her husband.

I mean, I probably should have, but honestly, I am starting to realize I may be some kind of sociopath or something. Ordinary people are not so fine with the idea of just killing anyone who is a slight inconvenience to them.

'I'm not a therapist. I don't have the qualifications to make any such diagnosis. All I know is there is something I want, and I don't have any issue doing what is necessary to take it.'

The issue was, so long as her husband lived, no matter if he was close, or in a distant land-present, or in a coma, she would always feel that it would be cheating to be with another man. No other method of 'getting him out of the way' would work. Bron would have to die if I ever wanted to have a real chance at making Jeyne my woman. 

I made a silent apology in my head-not to Bron, whom I did not give a fuck about-but to Jeyne, for what I was going to put her through for my own selfish desire to possess her.

I was still gonna do it though. 

"Yes, Miss Jeyne. I would love to come over," I smiled. 

...

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Chapter Text

As soon as Jeyne had crossed over the threshold of the door, I waved Helena over to me. She approached, setting the buckets of water down by the side of my bed.

"Shall I wash your face, your highness?" she asked.

"You have a more important duty," I informed.

I tugged off the white linen sheet, revealing my pants bulged by my turgid, throbbing six inches. As always, a competent maid, Helena needed no further instruction. She began to quickly undo my breeches, soaked as they were in copious amounts of pre-cum.

After a moment of fiddling, she tugged down the pants and underwear, revealing a red-hot pulsating meat pillar slick with lubricant and twitching with the desire to breed. Her pale hands, delicate and smooth, gently wrapped around my cock and squeezed firmly at the base. I felt a tingle of pleasure-but I wanted more than just her soft hands today...Wait,  soft?

I remember that the first time she had done this, her hands were rougher and more callused.

"Your hands feel different?" I questioned.

"I filed off my calluses and have been applying skin lotion to my hands, your highness."

Jesus...Now that was dedication.

This woman had done all that... just to make her hands more  pleasurable  for my  cock . My balls twitched with arousal and a heady thrill of pure power at the idea. The fact she had literally remoulded her body to make it a better fucktoy for me.

I really had won the jackpot with her, hadn't I?

"Have I ever said how lucky I am to have you, Helena?" I sighed. "Really should say it more often..."

She shook her head.

"There is no need, Your Highness," she said firmly. "I am a maid-I do not work for thanks, but because it is my duty. I exist to serve you in all ways. There is no need to thank me any more than to thank a hammer or chisel. Merely existing in your honoured presence is more than enough to satisfy me."

Subs could get really freaky, right?

"Then you are the most glorious tool any man has ever wielded-but I will have you do it with your mouth today."

"This lowly one must apologize, your highness. Please instruct me."

"First of all, make sure your teeth do not make contact with my cock. You are going to want to suck with a firm pressure, wrapping your lips around the shaft. Use your tongue to stimulate it as well-"

Before I had even finished speaking, she was already diving forward, placing her pink lips around my head. She slurped as she sucked, pulling back on my head.

"Holy  fuck! "

The unbelievably erotic sensation of her warm mouth atop my sensitive cockhead, combined with how much Jeyne had aroused me earlier, caused my cock to erupt immediately into her mouth.

I felt my penis swell in her mouth as it stretched around a boiling river of thick, almost paste-like semen that extruded into her mouth, gluing her lips shut around my fuckstick.

"S-swallow it all, fuck!"

She gulped it down, staring up at me with wide, doe-like eyes. My erection twitched into her mouth again, as all the pent-up lust Jeyne had stoked in me with her glorious milf tits was dumped straight into Helena's warm mouth-pussy.

The size of the load was enormous, probably five or six times what a normal adult man could cum-and at this point I had stopped questioning all the fetishistic nonsense. No doubt it was something Erica had written with a giggle.

But I was not done. Thirty minutes of rapidly improving, eager head later, and another two boiling hot loads of semen lapped up by my eager maid, my dick finally calmed down. I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, while Helena's mouth and tongue gently cleaned my cock and balls. 

"Where do you sleep?" I asked.

She pulled her lips from where they had been engulfed around one of my balls, with a wet pop.

"The servant's quarters, your highness."

"From now on, you will sleep in my room. And every morning you will wake me up with a blowjob."

She silently nodded, with no objections, and I felt the desire to go even further.

"Grow your hair out longer. I like long hair on women."

She nodded with no complaint. Even though long hair would be highly inconvenient for a servant. 

"From now on, we will bathe together."

Again, she made no objection, as I rewrote her life and schedule for my sexual needs. So I kept going. 

"I am going to teach you a type of exercise called kegels. You will do thirty minutes of them every day from now on."

"Oh, and I prefer furity and floral scents, so buy some perfumes using my bank card and start wearing them."

"Start shaving all your body hair daily. Or get some wax, if you can. I don't want to see a hair anywhere below you neck."

"Purchase some lipsticks in a variety of colours. Red, blue, pink, black, ex-cetera. Don't wear it in public since I don't want any other men to be interested in you. But while you are with me, have some on."

"Have your ears pierced. Buy a few pairs of simple but nice earrings. Wear a different one every day, since I like variety. Again, only wear them while in my room."

My demands were all met with a single nod, as she mentally noted down my every desire. If a guy asked his girlfriend to pretty herself up to this inconvenient level, everyone would rightly decry him as a crazy misogynistic bastard. Yet, Helena would willingly and obediently do anything I asked, no matter how outlandish.

If I asked her to tattoo 'slave' on her forehead, she would probably do so without any hesitation.

'That's something to keep in mind. Not slave, but maybe a lewd crest tattoo on her womb, or my name on some part of her.'

At this point, I also pondered ordering her to get her nipples pierced, but I was not actually sure if that could be safely done with medieval tech. I would have to look into it later.

"And one more thing..."

I hesitated.

Helena was very loyal, but would she really just agree to help me murder an innocent man with no explanation?

Probably.

"There's a poison called the 'The Widow's Heart'. It causes a person to have a heart attack and leaves no traces. I need you to buy some and poison the scribe name Bron, with no one else noticing or being affected. Let's say, kill him no sooner than three months from now, and no later than six. I want to be surprised when he dies."

The Widow's Heart was one of dozens of poisons mentioned as being used by the nobles on Ambrose that had no effect due to his overwhelming magic. Only the poison left over from the ancient Black Dragon slain by the first Emperor of Victarian was capable of harming him. 

"It will be done, Your Highness," Helena said simply. "Should I purchase an aphrodisiac as well?"

"An aphrodisac?"

"Yes. For Miss Jeyne."

It was scary how well she understood my intentions. Well, they said a good maid could predict what her master wanted before he rven asked for it. 

The casualness in her voice as she described drugging another woman to help me rape her was one of the  hottest  things I had ever experienced in this life or the previous. But actually not a bad idea. Though I wanted to seduce Jeyne more slowly over time.

"Buy some, but don't do anything with it unless I say so."

---

I was returning to my chambers from the library when I heard moans and whimpers coming from the hall. I paused and peered over the corner. 

Standing in the middle of the hallway, was a ginger-haired palace maid. She had been carrying fresh linens, which were now scattered at her feet. The reason being the noblewoman who stood behind her, groping and molesting her chest. The noblewoman had undone the ginger maid's shirt, revealing small perky tits, and was currently pinching and tugging on her nipples from behind, all the while biting and sucking on her neck.

In some ways, the Victarian Empire was extremely socially progressive. Since one's magic power determines inheritance in most cases, a woman, a homosexual, or transgender, or someone who did not follow the state religion could easily end up in charge of a huge region, and of course, such people would not likely pass laws against their own demographic. 

Of course, that was only for what you could call the 'identity politics' half of progressivism. As far as classism went, the Victarian Empire would be considered comically terrible by the standards of Earth. Even minor Nobles had near absolute power over the life and death of their peasants. There was no social mobility at all since the only way to be a noble was to be born with magic. At most, a noble bastard might get to start their own house if they inherited enough power to go beyond cantrips. 

That meant it was not at all unusual to see a gay nobleman walking while holding hands with his femboy lover, or a lesbian noblewoman fondling maids in the hallway like a teenage boy.

The only unusual thing here was the identity of the noblewoman.

The Imperial Princess Armenia Illevan Victarian. Emperor Orban III's eldest legitimate child, being his first child by the Empress, Octavia Illevan Castellos. Though his third, if you counted the two bastards he fucked into his music teacher before he got married. 

Armenia was also, quoting directly from Erica's notes, 'an uber-lesbian harem queen'. 

In the plot, Serena ran away from Demacia after learning she was in the world of the Flower Does Not Bloom in Silence. She entered the palace as one of Armenia's many, many handmaidens. She then leveraged that to meet Ambrose and get on his good side. However, in the meantime, she discovered that Princess Armenia was a horny lesbian sex pest who tried to relentlessly seduce and harass any woman she found pretty. 

There were some 'humorous' scenes storyboarded wherein Armenia would sexually harass Serena but be rebuffed or slapped or whatever. It was played as a repeating gag, like in an anime, for the first few arcs of The Bloody Tyrant.

There had also been a scene where Armenia declared to the Female Lead that she had "Three loving wives, four secret affair partners, five stunning concubines, six loyal maids, seven pretty sex-slaves, nine friends-with-benefits, twenty-six causal booty calls, two foreign queens and one entire female-only pleasure-town," in her harem, but she would be graciously willing to elevate Serena to the level of her 'one Soulmate' if she gave in. 

Yes, I had memorized that quote. Don't at me. 

My sister was technically Bi. You'd never know it from how obsessed she was with Josei and toxic male leads. Occasionally, you could see her indulge the Yuri half of her soul, such as with the character of Armenia. 

Anyways, once Ambrose became the Emperor, Serena persuaded him to spare Armenia, despite her being the daughter of the Empress and a major political threat to him. Instead of killing her as in the Flower timeline, she was exiled permanently to her pleasure-villa under armed guard. 

There was also a note she would be returning in the eighth arc, though I had not read past the seventh, so I did not know what her plot relevance was in it. 

Anyways, what I was saying was that it was  technically  not strange for her to be groping a maid in the middle of the hallway, once you knew her interests. 

I watched with interest at the sight. You'd have done the same in my place. 

You see, in the real world, there was a fundamental limit on how beautiful a woman could get. At a certain point, the only difference between two top-tier women would just be subjective taste. Did you prefer blondes or brunettes? Tall or short? 

But in a fictional fantasy world, a woman's attractiveness could go beyond the standard biological limit. She could be so pretty that a single look at her instantly stole your soul. I was certain that Armenia was more beautiful than any human woman who had ever lived in the history of Earth. 

She was a tall, stunningly gorgeous woman, with blonde hair like spun gold and gleaming sapphire blue eyes. Her pale skin was flawless and smooth, without a single blemish. In her lustrous white dress, she looked every bit a royal princess. And  god , was she beautiful. Like, it was hard to put into words how ethereally flawless her looks were. There was a sense of otherworldly perfection to her. As if you were looking at something sacred and divine that was not meant to be touched or sullied by mortal hands. 

​

​

There were several women who were given such flowery descriptions of sublime beauty. Of course, the female leads of Serena and Wisteria were depicted as such. The Crown Princess of Shurima was also mentioned in the same fashion, and a few others too.

Still, despite her status as a lesbian gag character whose primary role in the story was to queer bait the audience with a yuri ship that could never be, it would be a mistake to see Princess Armenia as just a pretty face. 

First of all, she was an extremely powerful mage in her own right. She was also said to be a master of biological magic, which I knew without it having to be said explicitly, she had learned solely for fetishistic reasons. 

Her maternal family, the Castellos, were also extremely influential in the central portion of the Victarian Empire. Furthermore, her personal relationships with many influential noblewomen was not to be underestimated. 

Armenia did not compete for the throne herself, even though she could. She instead quietly supported her younger brother Claudius's claim. Her support was a big reason as to why he was considered the frontrunner. His main rival, Prince Reynaldo, did not have such an exceptional sibling to back him. 

'But damn- I know she is my sister... or technically, half-sister, but god is she unreasonably fucking hot. Does that make it weird?'

I decided I did not care. Any moral system that would deprive my eyes of the soul-enriching sight of Armenia's silken-clad ass was a failed moral system. 

'I've been in this new world for less than a week, and have already decided I am okay with murder and incest...Man, I can only hope hell does not exist, cuz if so I have a VIP ticket to the lowest floor.'

"That's right, cum for me darling," I heard Armenia whisper into the maid's ear.

She tugged and pinched the ginger's nipples. I watched in entranced awe as the maid threw her head back and screamed in pleasure. The servant's entire body began to twitch with pleasure, and she collapsed into the embrace of the princess.

I decided then, it was absolutely critical that she  never  meet  my  Helena. 

"I expect to see you in my chambers tomorrow morning," Armenia ordered before swiftly waltzing away. 

The exaggerated swaying of her hips did glorious things to her fat ass and I could not help but stare.

'You hate to see her go, but love to watch her leave...'

I paused for a moment. 

'Actually, on second thought, would it really be so bad if I got to watch her and Helena together?'

A fantasy appeared in my mind-her and Helena making out while kneeling before me, before moving to lick and kiss at both sides of my cock. 

'I better go before the maid notices my peeping.' 

Tearing myself away from the glorious fantasy, I turned and briskly stalked away.

Helena's throat was going to be  very  sore by the end of the night. 

...

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Chapter Text

My cock throbbed in my pants as I half-sprinted towards my chambers. The scene replayed over and over again in my head. Armenia, with her angelicly seductive features. The ginger maid with the cute nipples and sweet moans. The sight of the maid shuddering and losing herself to the pleasure of the Princess's fingers.

Look, if you'd seen what I saw, you'd also have an erection hard enough to scratch diamond with.

I took no time to explain things to Helena once I entered my chambers.  I swiftly grabbed her by the shoulders and tugged her over to my bed. I positioned her on her back, with her head hanging over the edge. It was a position I had seen a few times in porn-I think it was called a supine blowjob or something. It looked something like this.

I swiftly undid my breeches, letting my throbbing pale cock flop out and smack down onto Helena's face. My cockhead stretched from her forehead to her lips, and with each twitch goopy opaque pre-cum splurged out and clung to her pink lips.

"Make sure to keep your mouth open, and breathe through your nose," I said.

With that said and done, I grabbed her head, tilting it so that the angle was right. I retracted my hips and then in a single forceful thrust-slammed myself straight down her throat.

The feeling of her unprepared esophagus gagging and choking around my dick was like heaven. Soft, warm pink flesh spasming and clenching tightly around my iron-hard rod. Without waiting for her to adapt, I sped up the pace. With each slam, my hips met her chin. My balls hung over her nose, no doubt filling her lungs with my sweaty unwashed ball-musk.

There was something to me existentially hot about a brutal facefuck. The face was the center of a person's identity. Humans were programmed to look for faces in everything, to the point we would see them when they were not even there. The mouth was even more central since it was the area speech came from. The place that allowed a person to express their inner thoughts and be heard and understood by other humans. In a way, it was the center of the center, the core part of the body that represented a person's individuality.

So, to take something like that, and reduce it to just another pussy to be fucked, just a hole that existed for me to empty my balls into felt almost like a profane transgression. It gave me a thrill of absolute hedonistic power.

I kept fucking harder and harder. Feeling a bit off balance, I leaned forward and roughly gripped both of Helena's ample tits. Squeezing and groping them with a bruising grip as white-hot pleasure began to fill up my mind.

"Fuck! Armenia!" I gasped and began to orgasm.

My cock, already nearly choking poor Helena, swelled up even thicker as gunky, over-thick semen forced its way through my dick. The goopy thick baby batter sprayed out straight down her esophagus as countless of my children went to die in acid.

"Fuck!" I gasped, pulling my twitching cock from her throat.

A further few spurts of semen blasted out from my spasming tip and sprayed across her face and chest.

I looked down at Helena, who desperately gasped for air, and felt guilt twist my heart. If there was one thing no woman could forgive a man for-it was calling out another woman's name during sex. I kind of felt like an asshole.

I'd done it once before. After my first-ever girlfriend, Lily broke up with me (A mutual decision since her family was moving)-I'd called out her name during sex with Irena, my second girlfriend and she had cried for hours.

"Your highness..." Helena said, voice blank. "Do you want me to dress up as Princess Armenia next time?"

...

Fuck, I really did not deserve this girl.

She had no question or objection to me calling out my own sister's name during sex. Only cared to see if there was something she could do to make it more pleasurable for me.

"Hmm...buy a blonde wig and blue contacts."

Helena had her own charm, but having a girl willing to cosplay other women for me was not something any hot-blooded man would just waste.

I'm sure you'd do the same thing in my place.

---

It was the evening I had agreed to come meet Jeyne's family. I had slipped out of the palace late in the evening through a side path usually used by servants. With my hair in a cap and my usual clothes replaced by commoner clothes Helena had gotten me, I melted into the crowd quite easily.

Jeyne's family home was modest and charming. A simple two-story brick building in the residential area of Victaria - the Imperial Capital City. It was about a thirty-minute walk from the gates of the Onyx Palace, so it was convenient for a family of palace servants to live.

The house was nothing compared to what a noble might possess, but for a family of commoners, it was quite nice. They could afford it because Jeyne's husband Bron was a Palace Scribe and made good money.

Commoners rarely knew how to read. But Bron had been the whipping boy for the son of a Baron. A whipping boy was a position unique to the culture of the Westlake Duchy. The people there believed a noble's flesh should never be touched. Even if a noble was to be executed, they would be drowned instead of physically touched.

So if a young nobleman was to be physically punished, the punishment would be transferred to a commoner called a 'whipping boy'. It was hoped the nobleman would come to have affection for his perpetual boyhood companion and thus want to avoid him being hurt. You can probably guess how effective, or ineffective, I suppose, the system was.

In other areas of the empire, things were quite different. For example, the hardy people of the Northern Wastes believed that difficulty hardened nobles into powerful warriors, and so they would never allow a tradition like a whipping boy.

Bron had to sit in on all the nobleman's lessons. If the baron's son made an error or disobeyed the teacher, Bron would be beaten. Being sharp, he managed to pick up on his letters and numbers by listening to the tutors.

Once he was an adult, he moved to the capital and got a job as a Scribe, copying down books, scrolls, leaflets and more at the whims of the palace.

In this world, there was no printing press(Not that I was an engineering student, but inventing the printing press seemed like something I could potentially pull off...). As a result, books were rare and expensive since they had to be copied by hand. There were spells to copy and print, but nobles disdained labour, so books were only common in the Magic Towers.

Of course, I knew all this because I had asked Helena to look into Bron. A day and a half later, I had practically his whole life story on a notepad. That girl's competence was scary sometimes. But I was glad she was on my side.

I walked over to the door, made of a nice, lacquered wood, and sharply knocked. A moment later, it was opened by a girl, about sixteen or seventeen years of age.

It took me a moment to recognize her, given how different she looked. It was Melody, who had been Ambrose's(mine?) childhood playmate. Though we had not seen each other in like eight years.

One thing about this world, just like in many east asian manwha, people could have all sorts of exotic hair and eye colours, like green, red, purple and more. For example, the girl before me had blue hair and eyes that she had gotten from her father.

I also could not help but notice she was dressed in pretty revealing clothing compared to the norms of this world. It would be considered a perfectly okay casual get-up in the United States, but here it was quite suggestive. I was surprised Bron had no objection to his daughter dressing like this, but maybe he was a liberal father.

"Um-Hey?" I said, feeling a little awkward.

In a sense, I knew her-but I had no clue what had happened to her or how much she had changed over the years. Did she still view me as a friend? Would it be impolite if I were to be familiar with her? Or would she view it as a slight on her friendship if I acted more formally?

This was why I hated meeting old acquaintances.

"Hey... Ambrose? Or is it Your Highness?" she asked, looking uncomfortable.

"When we were kids you used to call me 'Rose," I recalled suddenly.

Her face whitened slightly. Perhaps she was afraid I would consider that fact a slight on my honour and punish her.

"I uh-"

"Its alright," I shrugged. "Call me whatever you like. I don't bite."

"Yeah..." she nodded, staring at me. "You know...you look so much taller."

"It's been eight years."

"I know-just-I don't know, it's weird alright?" she exclaimed. "Anyway, you must be getting cold-come on in. Mom's making dinner."

She strode away, and my eyes flickered to her backside. Her seductively short skirt fluttered about in the air and I caught a glimpse of her beautiful ass. It was not quite on the level of Armenia's. Then again, judging others by the standard of a Josei character was a bit ridiculous. Melody was a perfectly respectable 8/10, but Armenia was a divine and transcendent 11/10.

We passed by the entrance and into a small dining room, centred around a mahogany table that must have cost a pretty penny-even if it came up short even to the trash left in Ambrose's wing of the palace. Melody took her seat at the left of the table.

At the back of the rectangular table, sat Bron, Jeyne's Husband-and my Sworn Enemy.

"Good morning, Your Highness!" he greeted, waving.

He looked how you might imagine a medieval scribe to look. He was pudgy and starting to bald but with a jovial expression on his well-fleshed face that made one naturally want to smile back. Despite being what one might consider conventionally unattractive, he had a sort of joyful aura to him that perhaps made up for it.

I sighed, internally praying for strength-because I could not help but suspect I was going to like him. He reminded me of one of my favourite professors.

'Still gonna kill him though. I'm not giving up on making Jeyne mine...'

"Welcome Your Royal Highness," he stood and bowed, his reflective bald spot shining a beam of light right into my eyes. "I cannot express how honoured I am to have you as a guest in my humble home-Angel! How long 'till the stew is done?"

"Ten minutes, Honey," Jeyne called back.

Oh god. They even had sappy pet names for each other.

'Satan is trying my resolve. But my faith in the lord is unwavering. I will not be moved from my path!'

Or was it the opposite? Was God trying to tempt me back to the righteous path before I committed the mortal sins of murder and lust?

'Well, he can fuck off! If King David can kill a dude and steal his wife so can I!'

Besides...Bron was fated to die anyway. Was it really murder if I just...sped up his fate by a few months? I mean, it was...but like, come on, Your Honour? Have you seen his wife? Can you even blame a guy? Oh- I'm getting the death penalty? Huh...

I coughed.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Goodman Bron."

As the saying goes, all animals are equal, but some are more equal than most. That is to say, even amongst the commoners, they were ranks.

Of course, the lowest was a slave, who was an object owned by a Noble or an Equestrian. Slaves were usually never addressed by name, but simply by 'Slave!'. Then there were Serfs, bound to a noble's territory. They could not travel or even switch professions without permission. They were usually farmers, shepherds, miners or unskilled labourers. Above that were Freemen, like Bron who were allowed to travel and work with some freedom- a rank for skilled artisans, craftsmen and scribes. Above that were Equestrians-basically, the rich merchants, who paid the crown a large yearly sum in return for some basic rights and protections.

An equestrian was usually called Mister, while a Freeman like Bron could be called Goodman, or more often, just be called by his name.

Now, to be entirely honest, most nobles ignored all of that. To them, anything that was not a noble was just a peasant and that was that. But I wanted to make a good impression.

"Oh, the honour is all mine! I've always longed to meet you-my dear wife speaks of you frequently!" he replied.

"Much the same," I nodded.

"So, your highness," he continued. "My wife tells me you enjoy reading-might I ask what types of books you are interested in?"

"A bit of everything," I shrugged. "Right now I am reading The Humble Man's Guide to Social Etiqeutte, by Baronet Hurra Kegan."

He nodded.

"Yes, good one that is. But a bit outdated."

"Is it?" I asked.

"Yes, it's mostly correct, but the title of Marquis did not exist at the time the book was written so a few things about social adress at the higher levels have changed."

Bron and I began to lose ourselves in nerdy conversation. I inquired about the scribing process, and he explained things in good detail-until our chat was interrupted by a cry of "Dinner's ready!" from the kitchen.

"I'll go help mom," Melody announced, rushing out of the room.

I flushed slightly in embarrassment as I realized I had totally forgotten about her existence and just ignored her for ten minutes.

Soon, Melody and Jeyne walked in, both carrying a large pot of beefy-smelling stew. Like most authors, Erica had not gone to the length of creating her own unique biosphere, so it was just regular cow meat. Still, it smelled wonderful.

After days of only eating preserved foods like smoked meat and hard cheese, some fresh, warm food sent my stomach rumbling.

By the proud giggle, Jeyne gave me, I think she might have heard or at least noticed my eager expression.

'Come to think of it, meat is pretty expensive-this is probably a good chunk of their monthly budget they are splurging to treat me. I should leave some coin or something...'

---

Also, by the way, feel free to offer suggestions/ideas for things you want to see in the story moving forward. I may not use whatever you say, but I will strongly consider it. This story is not really planned out beforehand, so I can sort of add anything in, if I like the idea. 

...

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Chapter Text

As Jeyne served us, my eyes flickered over to Melody with slight embarrassment. I felt kind of like a dick for just ignoring her for the whole conversation.

'You know, I honestly feel more guilty about that than I do for planning to assasinate her father. I wonder what that says about me...'

Sure, I may be an amoral, selfish, callous, indifferent  bastard , but that did not mean I had to be rude, you know? It's the little things.

​

I took a sip of the broth from the crude wooden spoon set before me and sighed. Honestly, compared to food from modern Earth, it would be considered bland. Spices and herbs were pretty expensive in the medieval age, even with magic to improve the situation.

Yet somehow…

"It's delicous," I said.

Jeyne beamed so bright I almost had to blink to shield myself from the radiance.

"That's my honebun," Bron laughed, staring at her with wistful eyes.

Jeyne blushed slightly, shooting her husband an embarrassed glance.

'Fuck, he's practically cucking me right to my face! This is unforgivable, Bron!' I seethed. 'I take back what I said about feeling guilty! There will be no mercy!'

Yes, I was the type to comment 'Please tag NTR' on stories where the main characters' mom and dad kissed. Don't @ me.

Outwardly, I just shot Melody an amused glance. Perhaps the presence of her mother had lightened her tension because she felt comfortable enough to give me an exasperated eye roll.

'She's pretty cute,' I thought.

I gave her my own wink and she giggled quietly. Somehow, I felt us falling comfortably back into the rhythm of friendly interaction. I guess it was just like riding a bike. Once you know how, it never truly goes away.

"So," I asked. "What do you do for fun around this place?"

Melody casually began to regale me with tales of some of the local staples. Plays at the Imperial Theatre, cock fights behind the Moongate, mud wrestling matches between boys where the prize was a kiss from a maiden.

It was the sort of stuff you'd probably expect from a grotty, bustling medieval urban center but interesting nevertheless.

I frowned as Melody blushed and mentioned how one wrestler had picked her as his kiss. She seemed tickled pink at the idea.

In canon, Melody marrying and leaving home had been the stimulus for Jeyne to come back to work at the Onyx Palace. Shortly after that, her whole family had died from the Green Wasting.

'If that wrestler is her future husband, then making sure he and her never do so might butterfly away their infection.'

As for having him killed, I'll admit the thought did cross my mind but, despite how it might seem, I am not some sadistic mass murderer. Me and Melody were not close enough to warrant that level of possessiveness. Unlike Jeyne, she was not  mine ...yet.

​

If I ever want Oyakadon, I might have to reconsider my stance on romancing Melody.

Like, she was cute and all, and being my childhood friend was surely a plus but, I did not feel that burning  need  to claim Melody the way I did Jeyne, or even Armenia.

​

She was more a snack than a meal, so to speak.

'Jesus, my mom would box my ears blue if she ever caught me saying something so sexist,' I sighed before a stab of sadness had me closing off that line of thought. '…But I'm not wrong tho…'

Soon, dinner was finished. My belly was warm and full of hearty beef stew.

"That was excellent Jeyne," I smiled. "I'll have to avail myself to your cooking more often haha!"

She smirked proudly.

"No matter what fancy fare the palace has, I tell you, nothing beats the food you grew up eating. I used to spoon you this recipe every night when you were cold."

I had not actually remembered that, but as she mentioned it, I got some vague sense of what she was saying. No wonder it tasted so nostalgic.

'Jeyne's far too kind to me for her own good...literally, in this case.'

As I stood, I pondered for a moment how I was beginning to slip more and more comfortably into Ambrose's skin. Perhaps our souls were melding on a deeper level, or I was just getting more used to my new body, but I noticed how I had been thinking of Melody as 'my' childhood friend, when really this was the first time 'I' had met her.

'But that's not right? We met as babies-she was there when I said my first words...We used to be so close...'

I shook my head. This was no time for existential dread. I pulled a golden coin out of my pocket and pushed it onto the corner of my table.

"My compliments to the chef."

Jeyne frowned.

"Please, dear, there's no need for payment-you're practically family. I could not charge you-"

"You're not charging me, I'm donating," I said.

"It's not right," Bron said, shaking his head. "A guest does not pay for food. Beside's we're not so poor as to need charity."

Ah, there it was. The stubborn pride of the lowercase to refuse a helping hand. I had honestly never understood the mindset at all. Who the fuck turned down free money?

"Huh, I think I have a meeting or something...bye!" 

I said suddenly.

'I win.'

Without picking up the coin, I turned and powerwalked away from the kitchen.

---

"Quick Melody, grab the coin and give it to Ambrose," Jeyne commanded her daughter.

The blue-haired girl stared down at the glinting yellow disc. More money in one place than her father made in a month. With shaking hands, she lifted it, and dropped it into her left pocket.

People like her were mugged and killed and left to rot in ditches over a fraction of a  fraction  of a full gold piece. It was, quite literally, worth more than her  entire  life.

"Yes, mom," she said blankly. "I'll make sure to give it to him."

She didn't.

---

With that, time began to pass. As I was eating a lot more nutritious food and exercising, my thin, weak frame began to rapidly strengthen and fill out. I did not think it was possible for an ordinary human to grow that much in such a short time, but I chalked it up to typical fantasy world nonsense. 

That came with a myriad of benefits besides just looking better. I had more energy and could read and work more without fatigue.

I also literally became smarter, as my malnourished body finally had enough energy to fully supply my brain.

It was a little humiliating...because Ambrose was  way  fucking smarter than me. It was not something we thought of often, but the mind was a physical object and your personality, demeanour and intelligence were all determined by genetics. Ambrose's genetics, typical of a fantasy royal family, were just straight-up  better  than my old life's. 

I had not noticed before, because my speed of thought and conclusion felt relatively the same before and after the transmigration. Except that was comparing well-fed, well-rested me me, to malnourished, deprived Ambrose. Now that 'power-saving mode' was turning off, I was noticing how much faster I grasped meaning while reading, how much easier it was to hold several thoughts in my head and more.

'This is so fucking unfair! If I had a mind like this in my previous life, I would have coasted through Uni with half the effort!  Fucking  genetic lottery!'

---

I came back to Jeyne's about a month later. So far, I had been pretty successful in keeping my head down-there were a few minor incidents.

My cousin Prince Damien threw a glass of spoiled milk at me one day when I was walking through the yard. A palace guard knocked me flat onto my ass by 'accident'-but nothing as bad as Agrippa and his goddamn fucking magic pepper spray.

I had been doing my best to keep steady on my primary goals, which were to strengthen my body through diet and exercise, strengthen my mind through studying in the library and strengthen my familial relationships by chatting with Prince Steffon whenever I got the chance.

The house seemed the same, but I did notice Melody had a new, nice-looking necklace that drew my eyes to her bust(pretty huge for an Earth woman, but like Helena, just a bit above average here in Amorania)

'Damn she looks good in that dress,' I had to hold back from licking my lips.

My eyes trailed across her chest for a good moment, and I felt myself start to harden.

'Damn Erica for giving Ambrose such a crazy libido-I can't even have a single meal go by without popping a bone! All so she can have one or two jokes about how exhausted the FL would be after a night with him! And because of her hubris, poor Helena's throat must suffer day in and day out! And I have it even worse than her, since I have to actually deal with the constant blue balls, which is obviously much worse!'

This dinner as not nearly as enjoyable as the first-partly because of the stress of trying not to eyefuck Melody's rather scantily clad chest, and partly because Bron and Jeyne were clearly 'in the mood' and kept subtly flirting with each other. The food was just as good though, so I could not complain.

As soon as dinner finished, I got the distinct sense Melody and I were being hurried out of the house so that the married couple could make the beast with two backs.

"Say, dear, why don't you go show Ambrose some of the local sights?" bron suggested, holding his wife by the waist. "Leave the dishes to your mother and I, but make sure to be back by nightfall-does that sound fine to you Ambrose?"

"...Sure, sounds fun," I shrugged.

'Should I have Helena slip him some damn ED-causing poison or something? He's too old to be this horny! Curse you, Bron!'

"Oh-Um, yeah-I'll go show you around," Melody shrugged.

She held her hand out to me. I raised my eyebrow for a moment, before taking it. She led me out of the house, and into the bustling streets of Victaria's residential district.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

She shrugged.

"Well-I could take you to the mud-pits?" she shrugged. "Or do you fancy a cockfight? There's also a beautiful pond I know."

Go to the pits where the winner got to pick a girl to kiss? What if they chose Melody? I could not have that.

As for Animal cruelty? You had to draw the line somewhere, and frankly, some things went too far, you know?

"Take me to the pond," I said.

...

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