Prince Noe was three when his mother's tantrum meant something to him. The maids skidded around in an orderly fashion used to cleaning up after her whenever she knocked over a tea set or the surrounding decor. This time however was different, her routine tantrum taking place in the newly decorated nursery. The Consorts newborn was still sleeping through his mother's shrill screaming. The Consort, Madeline, looked like a hapless prey, her forearm gripped by her other hand to give herself some comfort. Her black raven hair was a slight mess as was her dress, wrinkled from the slight physical altercation his mother had given her. Fortunately, the teapot was empty of anything and his mother had a flimsy fan. He would not deny that it did not hurt on occasion, at least it was not embedded with serrated blades. There was something familiar about the situation after that odd thought. The people still people to him but there was a silence that he felt was only meant for him and excluded anyone else as he felt like everything came ever so slowly. His mother huffed and absently acknowledged him as she left, emphasizing his title.
"Crown Prince Noe, I hope you learn from your Majesty's regrets and kill roaches before they fester," how she did any of that so poised he did not know.
While the maids cleaned and tenderly attended to the Consort, her tears turned less restrained and flowed silently. His attention was elsewhere. Noe swore time was tangible for a second. A pressure, if not a tight hug around his neck and he gasped with a stumble back.
"Are you alright, Crown Prince?" A younger maid fretted.
"Yes," he breathed out, almost inaudible as he stumbled even more but this time forward toward the bassinet.
His small plush hands shy of being 3 years old, gripped onto the layers of embroidery, that hung loosely; he stood on his tippy toes involuntarily with anticipation, his eyes peering and there his half-brother lay. A newborn, in any other timeline, is just a newborn to a toddler prince. But He inhaled sharply without effort. His name was Noe and he was the Crown Prince of the Redoch Empire. It wasn't simple deja vue. He's Noe, the Tyrant of the Redoch Empire. Killed at 21 by Lore. Even through the chaos of The Empress, the terror of his mother, the revelation of his brother, and the perpetual anticipation of the maids, Lore, the raven-headed newborn slept heedless of his legacy.
Noe weakly scoffed in amusement feeling nauseated at the situation. he had 17 years left to live.
a/n: it says rewrite not better. writing hurts meeee.
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Isekai dump
Fantasycrappy isekai MC's that don't have progress, so, I call them one-shots, despite having an outline and plot that I don't want to write out. "What up. It's me, truck-(put honorific here), the god. it was never about how many people I crashed into, i...
