The Harem King

DISCLAIMER: RAMPANT ****, LOTS OF HORRIBLE HUMOR, and slight **** usage HEADING YOUR WAY. ALL CHARACTERS YOU CAN SEXUALIZE ARE 18 OR OLDER.

Author's Note: If you guys saw my other story by the same name, just know I didn't like the way I was heading with it, and decided to start over. OK BYE YOU HORNY FUCKS I'LL JUST WRITE THE DAMNED STORY

It was early in the morning when Ephraim opened his eyes.

Great. Another day, another lesson in politics.

He laid there for a few minutes, attempting to fall back asleep and hold off his fate for at least a little while longer. An attempt that failed miserably, for the curtains of his bed were thrown open by his burly gentleman - in - waiting.

The big Moor called out in his deep, accented voice, "Rise and shine, your highness."

Ephraim opened his eyes, glaring up at the smiling, sun kissed face of his servant. "Would you believe me, Abdul," he said in exhaustion, "If I said I was already awake?"

The big man pursed his lips, holding out a tray full of food as the prince sat up. "Nightmares again, your highness?"

Ephraim rubbed his eyes and yawned as the tray was set in front of him. "No," he answered, honestly, picking up his fork and playing a little with the eggs. "Not this time."

Abdul nodded slowly. "Waking up on the wrong side of the bed, then?"

Ephraim nodded, finally taking a bite. "Also, no, I'm not letting you dress me today."

Abdul snorted. "What? Whatever are you talking about, milord? Of course I am-"

"Abdul," Ephraim said, looking his gentleman - in - waiting in the eye. "Last time you did it, you got all weird on me. Especially when you got to the socks."

Abdul glanced at the curtains and muttered, "It... Must have been your imagination."

"Abdul," Ephraim said quietly, leaning in without knocking his tray over. "You know you can tell me, right?"

Abdul took a deep breath and sighed. "I like feet, milord. I do not know why."

Ephraim frowned a little, but nodded. "Alright, then. Thank you for telling me. I'll... Still be doing my own dressing, alright?"

The big man looked down and muttered, clearly disappointed, "Of course, milord."

"I will call when I require you," Ephraim said, turning his attention back to his breakfast.

"Uh, sir," Abdul said, clearing his throat. "Your mother would like to meet with you once you are properly dressed, and the court witch would like to see you in the dungeons at noon."

Ephraim frowned, nodding. "Thank you. You can... You can go now."

"Of course, sir," Abdul nodded with a smile, heading for the door.

After finishing up breakfast, he dressed in the uniform he had been assigned; white cotton shirt, brown trousers, bright red vest, shiny black leather boots, a ceremonial rapier, and a small, golden circlet.

Best to arrive in the throne room looking his best, after all.

A comb over later, and he was strolling down the halls of the castle. He occasionally glanced out the window at the surrounding countryside.

The wall that had once protected the building had been torn down when the cannon had been invented by their neighboring rivals, the Aurorans. Instead, they had built a magical fence that threw the cannonballs back at them.

Ephraim smiled a little. He knew the Auroran crown prince personally. And thinking of the dullard constantly firing cannons at the castle only to destroy his own army was entertaining.

Focus, you need to get to the throne room, he thought, shaking his head and turning a corner.