Surviving as a Prince of Britannia

Author’s Note : This chapter contains mature content.

This chapter alternates between the point of view of Lysander, the protagonist and Fourth Prince/Grand Marshal of the Holy Britannian Empire, and Millirze, his new secret intelligence officer and chief secretary.

Protagonist — Lysander’s Point of View

Holy Britannian Empire

Area 3

Duchy of Tenochtitlan (*)

My private residence and Grand Marshal’s Office in Tenochtitlan

My office

Almost a year after Charles' declaration that ended the war.

“…Your Highness?”

“Mm…?”

I opened my eyes.

Apparently, at some point, I had fallen asleep with my chin resting in one hand.

Across the desk, Millirze Altheim let out a quiet sigh as she flipped through a stack of documents.

It had already been six months since she became my secret intelligence officer.

By now, she was not merely handling intelligence work.

In fact, she had also become something close to my chief secretary.

“Honestly…”

Millirze’s voice was calm, but the temperature in it had dropped several degrees.

“Even if you have taken both the Sword of the Empire and the Flower of the Empire as your wives, falling asleep during office hours is still rather unbecoming, Your Highness.”

Fortunately, thanks to my adjutant Bedivere, she has been spared of the administrative work of the 95th Rifle Knightmare Squad.

I rubbed my eyes and smiled.

“Sorry, Millirze. So, what is on today’s report?”

“First, our informant in the Chinese Federation — the Chief of Construction — is still not responding. We need to contact him through another line."

"And about the international conference which will be held in Area 11…”

At that moment

The door flew open.

A woman entered, her purple cloak fluttering behind her.

Pink hair.

Purple eyes.

The First Princess of Britannia.

The Sword of the Empire.

Cornelia li Britannia.

My first wife and my half sister.

“Darling!”

I looked up and smiled.

“Oh, my beloved Cornelia. What brings you rushing into my arms?”

Crack

I could almost hear something snap in Millirze’s forehead.

Excuse me? I'm on my honeymoon period, give me a break!

Anyway, she lowered her head with perfect courtesy.

“Your Highness."

“Millirze, there is no need for such stiff etiquette between us.”

Cornelia smiled lightly, then walked over to me and leaned down to whisper into my ear.

“Can you spare me a little time?”

I glanced at Millirze.

She smiled back at me.

It was a cold, beautiful smile.

“Of course. I can manage the rest by myself today.”

“Tomorrow, I will organize only the most important matters and report them to you.”

“…Sorry, Millirze.”

“Not at all, Your Highness.”

Her tone was flawless.

Almost too flawless.

“Time with your wife is more precious than anything else, after all.”

She bowed.

“I wish the two of you a pleasant time together.”

The office door closed behind us.

Millirze's point of View

Apparently, after standing there in silence for some time, I locked the door.

Then I sat down in his chair.

I let out a quiet sigh.

"...Hah."

My voice was low.

Far lower than when I spoke in front of him.

"Is being handsome enough...?"

A pause.

"Is being a prince and a war hero enough...?"

Another pause.

This time, my breathing was unsteady.

"I'm a woman too..."

The sounds from the other room still echoed in my mind — his heavy breathing, her soft sighs.

It was maddening.

I needed to feel something real, something of him.

I spread my legs on the leather chair, imagining his strong hands were gripping my hips.

I brought my hand between my thighs, my fingers tracing the sensitive skin as they found the wet heat awaiting them.

I closed my eyes and pictured his face above me, his lips claiming mine instead of Cornellia's or Caroline's.

The friction against the chair's armrest was sharp, electric. I imagined him whispering my name, telling me how beautiful I was.

The jealousy of him being with the 'Sword of the Empire' only made me harder, more desperate.

I bit my lip to stifle a moan as I touched myself, my body arching off the chair, seeking release.

I imagined him thrusting inside me right there, filling the void that she seemed to occupy so easily.

The pleasure built rapidly, blinding me, and I cried out silently as I reached my peak, my hand still moving against me in the aftermath of my own release.

A few minutes later after I reached my climax, the secret line on my desk began blinking red.

I picked up the terminal, my breathing still ragged from the intensity of the moment.

"…Tenochtitlan. Over."

A hoarse voice answered.

A Roman accent.

No doubt about it.

“Rome. Over.”

“In the near future, at the international conference in Area 11 concerning the redistribution of Sakuradite production quotas,

the Senatus Populusque Romanus wishes to send the Megas Logothetes - Prime minister and the Foreign minister of the Senatus Populusque Romanus - as a representative.”

“If possible, we would like Tenochtitlan to attend in person.”

“Of course, for such a long journey…”

A faint laugh came through the line.

“We will prepare travel expenses. And a proper gift as well.”

The call cut off.

I stared down at the silent terminal.

Then, according to her own later report, she bit her lip.

“…Prince Lysander.”

Anger.

Jealousy.

And, beneath both of them, the faintest trace of expectation.

This time — I would make certain that I would follow you.

Protagonist — Lysander’s Point of View

At the same time —

A secret villa in the outskirts of Tenochtitlan.

Fireworks burst across the night sky.

Bang.

Bang.

Ba-bang.

“Congratulations on the pregnancy of Her Highness Princess Cornelia!”

The servants’ voices echoed from below the terrace.

Cornelia stood beside me, one hand resting shyly over her stomach.

“Lai…”

She rarely used that name in public.

Which meant this moment belonged only to us.

“Be gentle today. It is still early stage of pregnancy.”

I wrapped my arms around her carefully and smiled.

“I know, sister.”

Just as expected.

When a wife comes all the way to her husband’s workplace and whispers that she has a surprise, there are not many possibilities.

A pregnancy was the most obvious one.

Good thing I had ordered my adjutant Bedivere to prepare the fireworks in advance.

Tomorrow, I should ask Millirze to prepare a list of minor offenders in the duchy who could be pardoned.

A child of the imperial family was to be born.

A little mercy, staged properly, would make for excellent symbolism.

Cornelia looked up at the fireworks and murmured.

“I hope it is a son.”

“As long as you and the child are both safe, I do not care whether it is a son or a daughter.”

That much was true.

The fireworks colored the sky above Tenochtitlan.

But my eyes were already looking farther away.

Toward Area 11.

Toward the coming conference.

Rome was not built in a day.

And its' flame had not gone out yet.

p.s. Duchy of Tenochtitlan: OTL Mexico.