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[BL] The Fake Prince of Besirique: Rise of the Regent

He came to this world wondering why him? He was a fake, a fraud. He thought that he was prepared for the inevitable, for the moment he would have to return the name that was never his.. He thought he was ready, but he wasn't. If not the Prince of Besirique, who was he? ~~~ WHAT IS A MAN TO DO WHEN HE BECOMES THE SON OF A KING? In his past life, he was a boy with nothing to his name. In this life, the First Prince of Besirique, the Son of Sirvas. Finding himself in the midst of a palace scheme on his first day of being reborn, Ulfstead is unsure of what he should do. With arms and legs swaddled, his only prospects are to cry, sleep, and ponder the meaning of life. Read on to find out how this fake Prince grows up protects his Kingdom! This story is most definitely a world-building novel! It's just... Why is his cousin brother so sticky, his fake eunuch so touchy, or the slave boy he picked up so... hungry? These men will fight for their King (in more ways than one.) Future King/First Prince: QAQ? **** Chapters marked with an asterisk * mean they contain sexually explicit language. I will do my best to provide a chapter summary if it is necessary to the plot. If it does not, then disregard these chapters if you prefer reading just for the story. This story was originally titled 'The Rise of the Regent'. Thank you for your support!

Goosey_Goo · LGBT+
Not enough ratings
40 Chs

Secrets Made in the Open

Tens of meters above the depths of the dungeons, the light of day still shone a faint sliver in the skyline. Torches were lit; its flames casting forth growing shadows that stretched across the empty grounds.

When they came to an unknown gate, the sentinels who stood as stationary statues intersected their swords until the face of His Majesty was recognized. Wordlessly, they fell back into place while the gates groaned open like a hibernating beast. 

The King led the child through its jaws into a forsaken land. 

Lyfette's eyes roamed across that ancient text that was preserved above. There was a faint familiarity, but it was impossible for the boy of only four years of age to decipher it

Onward, the pathway continued. A hundred arches led them down the darkened road. At first, each structure stood proud. But as they traveled further, the wood became crooked and splintered. It was as if the columns would collapse should a light breeze blow.