I definitely wasn't in the past of my own world. My mother's hair was blue, the color of the sky on a clear day. All the servants looked normal. Their hair colors ranged from black to blonde. It would be weird for hair dye to be a thing when there were chamberpots and no electricity to be found anywhere.
And when my father finally made an appearance, I came to find that though his hair was white from age, his eyes were purple.
These type of hair colors and eye colors did not naturally exist. If they didn't look so realistic I'd assume I was in an anime.
I didn't know what to do, because I didn't know the world I'd been born into. I didn't know the histories, and I most certainly did not know the futures.
Was there strife between the Crown and Religion? Was Organized Religion even a concept? What did the geography of my birthplace look like? What agriculture did we produce?
Was there any Greek or Roman influences perhaps guising under different names?
Did people suffer from dysentery? Did they know they needed to boil water before it could be drank to help reduce the probability of bacteria?
Was there philosophy? Poets? Famous artists?
Did these people even know how to keep things from getting cross-contaminated?
I didn't have a peanut allergy the last time around, but with all the antiquated care I've seen I nearly gave in and prayed that I wouldn't have any allergies. It'd be a slow and painful death of asphyxiation and there would be no one to help me.
I had too many questions that wouldn't be answered right away. I was supposed to be two years old. I couldn't go asking questions about health standard and the economy without drawing more than a few unwanted eyes.
What I did know was that I was the prince of a Nation called Eromy.
It could have been the cheap knock off of the Holy Roman Empire for all I knew.
My mother was pregnant again. She was confined to bedrest for the remained of this pregnancy.
Last year she had given birth to a daughter.
The servants talked about how weak her cries were and how she wasn't suspected to last the night. To everyone's surprise, she lived nearly two months before she died.
Her name was Lyanna. From what chattering went around, I know she was born with purple hair and my mother had slapped her wet nurse when she died blaming her.
Naturally I wasn't placed in the same room as Lyanna for fear that if one baby died the other would follow.
My father was becoming a more frequent visitor I saw now that I was two years old and could now walk around. My guess was he needed to make sure I knew who he was so it wouldn't come as a surprise when he took a more active role in my life as I aged.
I still wanted a harem. I wanted to not be bored. I needed entertainment. And while I didn't want to be known as the prince who regularly visited brothels in order to slightly protect my reputation in the eyes of the commoners, getting a Harem of wives and Concubines must have been accepted on some levels. If my father had entertained the idea of having a Concubine to replace my mother, that had to make it somewhat commonplace here.
I cared deeply for my new mother. Lydia had been forced to marry her grandfather's cousin at a young age. She had been forced to carry pregnancy after pregnancy and watch as each child never grew past infancy. Before I was born, she would have been cast aside as her husband sought out someone else to continue his Line.
None of her pregnancies after I was born yielded similar results.
I alone was the only one to live past infancy.
It was at times sad for me to stomach. My mother's worth had been determined by her children. She didn't have the luxury of refusing to have children. She'd never had a choice. And even after losing a child, her husband would enter her and try again and another pregnancy took.
She mourned for years until the forces that be decided to place me in this world through reincarnation.
(Sometimes when she looked at me and smiled like I was her whole world, I wondered if I'd been reborn here for her.)
Still she mourned, but I was the light of her life. I was a reason for her to keep living. It would be enough to give someone a complex.
After Lyanna died, mother had dismissed all the servants for the day and apologized to me as if it was her fault.
Lyanna may have lived if she were born into a world more similar to my first life. She could have had the best doctors and nurses watching her around the clock to keep her healthy.
Her death proved that magic didn't exist in this world, because of it did my mother would have stopped at nothing to employ someone who could prevent her children from dying.
Mother had been raised to be a mother.
Her family had given her away to her grandfather's cousin to be fucked so she could give birth until the day he died. She was essentially a child who'd been told she had to be a mother.
Lydia didn't deserve any of it, so I tried to be the best son I could for her.
Realistically it could have been any number of reasons why she had so many stillborns and miscarriages. The first being that she was too young the first time she had gotten pregnant and the results had been lingering. The second, father's sperm was low quality due to his age. Third, too much inbreeding leads to prove Gregor Mendel and his peas. Or the fourth more probable was a combination of all three.
I wondered if I'd be as old as dirt one day like my father and still be fucking.