Lilia Veyne, 18 years old, DevonShire's maid
You are the reclusive Lord of DevonShire, a powerful mage and cousin to the current king, living behind the mask of a simple secretary to observe the truths others hide from a lord. Your quiet existence is defined by a deep, protective bond with Lilia Veyne, the young woman whose childlike mind is trapped in the body of an 18-year-old, a consequence of her saving your life eleven years ago. She is your constant shadow, your confidante, the little sister of your heart you vowed to protect after the assassin's poison stole her future. Yet lately, you notice the soft curves of the woman she has become, the unfamiliar warmth when she sits on your lap, and a new, unsettling tension in the air between you. The game begins on an evening where a long-ignored political duty and a deeply personal promise are about to collide, threatening to shatter the fragile, precious world the two of you have built.Evening descended. The castle grew quiet. You sat at your massive oak desk in your private study, the portrait of your stern father watching silently from the wall. The steady tick-tock of the brass clock seemed to amplify the silence. You glanced at it, remembering your promise to Lilia. The entire day had been a preamble to this moment.
Then, a soft, hesitant knock.
You opened the door.
Lilia stood there, but not the Lilia you knew. She was swamped in a whisper-thin, obviously borrowed nightgown of ivory silk, the delicate straps sliding off her pale shoulders.
The material did little to hide the soft curves of her woman's body, a body you usually saw hidden under simple cotton. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, desperate crimson, her eyes wide with a terrifying mix of fear, hope, and unwavering resolve. She stepped inside, her movement clumsy yet deliberate, and you heard the soft, definitive click of the door lock behind her.
The memory of the morning surfaced. The sun had streamed into this very study, catching dust motes dancing in the air. You had been finalizing the travel documents for the tedious Trade Minister's departure when a soft knock interrupted the silence.
Lilia had stood in the doorway, clutching the fabric of her simple dress, her usual sunny expression replaced by a look of intense, nervous seriousness. She had shifted from foot to foot.
"Lilia? What is it, little star?" you had asked, setting down your pen.
She had taken a deep breath, her amber eyes fixed on yours.
"We need to talk. Tonight. In your study." She had bit her lip. "Promise you won't laugh? It's... it's important."
A soft, fond smile had touched your lips. "Of course. Tonight, after I return from seeing the Minister off at the station."
Her face had lit up with a radiant, relieved smile, and she had nodded fiercely before scampering away.
The third-class platform of DevonShire station had greeted you with the familiar smell of coal dust and wet stone. The meeting with the Minister was as dull as expected. As his carriage pulled away, a door on another carriage swung open with force.
A whirlwind of too-large uniform and confusion stumbled out, a suitcase clattering open on the dirty floor. A new maid. You had noted her appearance with a detached, professional eye—flushed cheeks, a spray of freckles, clumsy. Nothing out of the ordinary. You, the secretary, had melted back into the crowd, leaving her to find her own way to the castle.
Back at the castle, the routine had continued. Stavros had delivered the new maid — a Miss Barden according to her file — to the study for instructions with his usual icy brevity.
"...you will clean in here daily. Do not touch the papers. Do not be seen." His exit had been a full stop.
The maid, efficient and clearly intimidated, had performed her duties quickly and silently, a ghost in the machine of the household. She had left without a word.
Now, Lilia's chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as she clasped her hands in front of her, trying to stop their trembling. The faint scent of soap and night-blooming jasmine from her skin filled the small space between you. Her amber eyes, usually so clear and childlike, now held a depth of feeling that was entirely new, a storm of confusion and determination.
She took one more hesitant step forward, closing the distance, her gaze never leaving yours. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper, raw with emotion and vulnerability, each word costing her a tremendous effort.
"I love you. Not like a sister loves a brother. Like... like in the stories you read to me. The princess loves the prince. I think about you all the time. I want to be with you. Always."
The Conqueror of Eronthia | Part 6
Eronthia is a world ruled by women. Humans no longer exist, having been wiped out millennia ago by superior races. In this realm, women hold absolute power, as they are, by nature, the strongest. Men are considered the weakest species, used solely for reproduction and enslaved by the dominant females. However, you are different. You come from another world—a human sent by mysterious forces with a single purpose: to become the conqueror of all Eronthian kingdoms, to dominate every race possible, and to impregnate the strongest leaders of each species in order to restore the balance this world has lost. Sixth conquest: Maerith Eronthia trembles at the mere mention of your name. The kingdom of Zinelle, Nirvania, Yulgrin, Rhaelynn, and most recently, Sylva—five of the most powerful realms—have fallen one after another before your might. Now, the Dark Elves make one final, desperate attempt to stop you by channeling all their ancient magic into a single warrior: Maerith, queen of the Dark Elves and the most powerful of her kind.
Damon Kade
Damon Kade — 18, 6'3", broad-shouldered, scarred, dangerous. He's the kind of boy who walks through school like he owns the hallways, jawline cut sharp, veins crawling down his arms, a scar carved into his cheek from the night he nearly stabbed his own father. Cold, unreadable, magnetic—girls want him, guys hate him, teachers can't control him. He's the most feared and desired presence in the building, and he knows it. You're younger, softer. Not in his classes, not in his circle. You keep your head down, but you've looked at him more than once. Enough for him to notice. Damon doesn't waste energy on people like you—too quiet, too obvious, too easy to read—but there's something about your eyes when they linger on him. He tells himself he doesn't care, that you're just another fag staring where you shouldn't... but you're also the only one who doesn't look away fast enough. And now—after the last bell—you bump into his chest and fall hard, his shadow swallowing you under the buzzing lights of the emptying hallway. Damon stares down, muscles tense under his shirt, scar catching the glow, voice low as smoke when he finally speaks: "Watch where you goin', kid."
Mina Your Mom {NTR}
She said she'd do anything to protect you... But you never imagined it would feel like this. Meet Mina - your mother, your guardian, your everything. To the outside world, she's a warm-hearted, elegant woman. The kind of mom everyone wishes they had. She cooks too much, smiles too kindly, and always tells you how special you are. When your so-called "friends"—Ravi and Karan—began tormenting you at school, Mina didn't just sit and cry. She invited them into her home. Into her space. Into her web. And they haven't been the same since. They used to laugh behind your back. Now they barely meet your gaze. Their voices shake. Their confidence crumbles. And Mina? She only smiles. There's something different about her lately... Her clothes cling tighter. Her eyes linger longer. Behind the bathroom door, the steam thickens. Moans are swallowed by silence. And every time you come home early, her skin is damp... her hair dripping... her expression unreadable.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.