Surviving as a Prince of Britannia

Author’s Note : This chapter contains mature content.

A few days later.

Night.

Holy Britannian Empire.

Area 3.

The Duchy of Tenochtitlan.

My private residence and the Grand Marshal’s Office.

My bedroom.

When the door opened slightly, Millirze was standing there.

She wore a black dress.

Over her chest, an intricate crest embroidered in gold thread shone faintly in the moonlight.

It was the coat of arms descended from my ancestor, Eduardo I—the refounder of our Empire—and bestowed upon me by Charles in commemoration of my conquest of Area 11, formerly Japan.

A cross of lilies and lions.

“I have been waiting for you, Your Highness.”

Click

I locked the door, the sound echoing in the silence. I walked toward her, my eyes drinking in the sight of her trembling form.

My fingers brushed against the straps of her dress, pulling them down slowly.

The black silk slid to the floor, pooled at her feet to reveal her pale, creamy skin.

Every inch of exposed flesh seemed to vibrate with anticipation.

"Your Highness... I'm not scared."

She looked up at me, her voice barely a whisper. "It's just that... I waited too long..."

I laid her back onto the bed, the sheets cool against her heated skin. I leaned in, my lips trailing along the sensitive curve of her neck, tasting the salt of her impending tears.

Smack

“I am sorry, Millirze.”

“I am sorry that I could not dress you in a pure white wedding gown like Cornelia or Euphemia.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

“No... How could I ever ask for that?”

“Simply being able to remain at your side like this is enough, Your Highness.”

Fuck you, Charles.

Thanks to you—Charles, who had taken one hundred wives and fathered either three or four digits’ worth of children—half-sisters had somehow become the ideal marriage candidates for the princes of this Empire.

And as a result, a girl from a viscount’s family had no choice but to become my second mistress.

Her mother had been born a commoner, risen to become dean of the College of Arts at the Royal University of Pendragon, and eventually received the title of viscountess.

Her father was a viscount in his own right.

And yet even someone like Millirze could not stand beside me as a lawful bride.

This is ridiculous.

...Never mind.

This world had been insane from the moment I was born.

I kissed away her tears and whispered,

“From this day forward, you are my second mistress.”

She sniffed, her trembling hands working at my shirt buttons.

“First... I will serve you with my mouth.”

She dropped to her knees before me.

Her fingers deftly undid the remaining fastenings, and then she took me into her warm, wet mouth.

The sensation was intoxicating—her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip before she took me deeper, her cheeks hollowing with effort.

I groaned, my head falling back as the pleasure spiked, my fingers tangling in her dark hair, guiding her rhythm as she bobbed up and down, her warmth and suction driving me to the brink.

After a long, agonizingly good moment, I gently pulled her up and laid her back onto the bed.

Her skin was flushed a deep, feverish red. I cupped her breasts, my thumbs rolling her hardening nipples, watching her arch her back in pleasure.

"Prince... Lyasander..."

I leaned down, taking one nipple into my mouth, biting down gently.

Milirze gasped, her hands clutching my hair as she cried out my name, her body writhing beneath me.

I spread her legs wide, positioning myself between her thighs. I looked down at her glistening, waiting entrance, then slowly pushed forward.

The friction was immense.

It was tight, hot, and undeniably wet, gripping me like a velvet vice as I breached her hymen.

"Aaah...!"

She cried out, her fingernails digging into my shoulders, drawing lines of heat.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little... but it's okay." She looked up at me, her eyes wide and watery.

"Please... continue, Your Highness."

I began to move.

Slowly at first, allowing her body to adjust to the invasion, savoring the tight clasp around my shaft.

But soon, the need took over.

I increased my pace, thrusting harder, deeper.

The sound of our bodies colliding filled the room—the wet slap of skin, the ragged breathing, the soft cries of pleasure.

Milirze gasped for breath, her legs hooking around my waist, pulling me in with every thrust.

She was lost in the pleasure, her body trembling uncontrollably, her nails raking down my back.

The sensation was overwhelming, a fire burning through my veins.

That night, she reached climax three times.

The first came with a sharp arch of her back and a cry of ecstasy that made my blood run cold.

The second was a shattering wave that left her limp and gasping.

And the third... the third was when I broke her completely, my name screaming from her lips as she shattered around me.

Pant

Thud

And after finishing the final one, we were both exhausted, slick with sweat, our bodies tangled together on the bed.

Once she had caught her breath, I placed a ruby ring on the ring finger of her left hand.

Milirze smiled through her tears.

“May I remain by your side forever, Your Highness?”

“Of course, my love.”

I drew her back into my arms.

As I helped her put on the black dress I had removed earlier, I whispered,

“This dress is proof that you stand at my side.”

“No one will ever take that from you.”

Milirze buried her face against my chest.

Sigh

That brought my harem to 0.04 Charles.

Four women.

Cornelia.

Euphemia.

Caroline.

Milirze.

I could handle that.

Probably.

Somehow.

And then, a short while later—

“Waaah!”

The child born between Cornelia and me—

my first flesh and blood in this world—

had arrived.