Death wasn't peaceful.

It was bright and uncomfortable. Loud and bouncy too - like when you're sleeping in the back of a car. Grumbling, I rolled over, clasping my hands over my ears. If this is death it must be hell.

Wait.

My eyes snapped open as I jerked up. There was no pain, no pearly gates or fiery pits. There wasn't even a sea of never-ending darkness. It... It actually seemed like I was alive.

I was in a room? No, it was more like a those horse-drawn carriages that run through the cities. Two long seats, larges windows, broken up by two wooden doors. There was even a woman, sleeping on the seat across from me. Carefully I ran my hands along the seat under me. Plush leather was smooth under my hands, cooling even as sunlight fluttered through the square windows. It cushioned me, cradling me as the room around me bounced.

Everything dwarfed me. Anxiety rose up in my throat, the realization nearly drowning me. Even the woman - she couldn't be more then five years older then me. Yet, even slumped over she was at least a foot taller then me. I held out my hands, staring down at them. They were tiny. I wiggled my fingers. They were stubby and soft with baby fat.

Shit. I ran my hands over my body. I slapped my cheeks. I was tiny! I was a child again! And a young one at that, baby fat clinging to my short form. With a sharp gasp, I yanked the waist band of the weird pants. No No No! I was a boy! Tears welled up in my eyes.

I was back to square one again. Just when I was making real progress towards transitioning. The tears ran down my face as sobs bubbled up in my chest. If I had truly died, why did I have to do it all again?

My sobs seemed to wake the strange woman up (Mother, a voice in the back of my head whispered). "Edward?" She called softly. Her light hair was mused by sleep, draping delicately over her shoulders. "Did you have a nightmare again?" I could only sob harder, especially as she shifted seats. She wrapped her arms around me, petting my hair gently.

I cried into her arms. The fabric of her shirt was soft against my face, and the sweet smell of her perfume was oddly calming. Memories that weren't quite mine flooded my mind. A childhood of her holding me as she got ready for her nightly job. Strange men entering and leaving the house at all hours of the day. It was comforting, in a strange way.

"Feeling better?" She asked, hands still carding through my hair. I shook my head, hiding against my supposed mother. "Well, you better perk up soon my little sliver ticket. We're almost at the Ravensworth Estate." I froze, realizing what she said. "Silly boy," she cooed, "Did you forget. We're going to meet your father."

My mind raced at the implications. A likely prostitute, taking a child named Edward to a place called Ravensworth Estate. It was just like the novel I'd been reading before my death - The Rise of Nicolas. Oh, oh shit. This really wasn't death, it was arguably worse.

I've been isekai-ed.

The Rise of Nicolas wasn't a happy story. It was one of a kingdom ravaged by war - of an uncaring prince who would become king of Vridilia. Edward Ravensworth was barely a footnote in it - the bastard son of a prostitute and the king. He was the second prince, traded by his mother for a life of luxury. Resented by his father and ignored by his brother, Edward is hidden away in the Ravensworth Estate.

On his seventh birthday, after being brushed off by Nicolas, Edward was murdered by assassins from the southern kingdom. He was hardly mentioned afterward, only invoked when the prince needed motivation. He was just a stepping stone for Nicolas, the inciting incident for both the upcoming war and Nicolas's character development. Arguably, one of the worst characters to be reincarnated as.

I refuse to let that be my fate here.

I refuse to a stepping stone for a random book character. Not to mention I don't want die again, much less for some dumb war. I would live, I would make a place for myself in the story no matter the cost.

I wiped the tears from my face, slapping my cheeks as I pulled away way from my supposed mother.

"Finally better?" She asked.

"Yes Momma," the reply came as naturally as breathing. It satisfied her too, and she pulled me into her lap. Instantly I curled up against her. It was muscle memory, and reinforced that I needed to get my head on straight, figure out how to survive this. Hopefully before we reach the King.

What did I know about the book? Who would help me - or rather, who would help Edward? Edward was a side character, information on his friends and allies at the Estate. Even his actual death was vague - the book only showed the discovery of his body. The mother obviously wouldn't help, she was using me to get herself a better life. The King wasn't a feasible option either. In the book, he saw Edward as a constant reminder of his grief. My best bet would be the Estate's workers. They were the ones who cared for Edward in the book, they would surely help again.

Nicolas was also someone to look at. His coldness was what got Edward killed in the book. If I could endear myself to him, it might help when the assassins come.

I should train too. Six is young, and I likely wouldn't be able to do much when the time came. But maybe I could hold them off long enough for someone else to come and help me.

So training and making Nicolas like me. Great, a solid plan. How I was going to do either of those things, I have no idea. There was also the issue of my gender. The original book had no mentions of transgender people, so there was no telling how it would received. I refused to live my second life as a boy though. I would feel it out, asks some of servants, but pretending to be a boy again was too miserable to imagine.

Train, befriend my 'brother', and be a girl. Easy. There is no way this could go wrong.

"Come on Edward," my new mother urged, ignoring my flinch at the name. "You're going to embarrass us in front of the King."

My feet refused to move. I was stuck to the ground, staring up at the glimmering mansion in front of me. Pale gold brick was trimmed with white, topped by a darker shingle roof. It was about four stories, including the attic area. Tall windows lined the bottom two floors, with extra ones on the tallest parts of the building. Taller and grander then any house I had ever seen, I stood frozen at the base of the stairs connecting the cobblestone road and the towering doors.

"Edward," Mother snapped, grabbing my arm, "Let's go." She dragged me forward roughly, leaving me to stumble after her - unable to keep up.

"Ma'am," the guard escorting us said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "King Mattias is in no rush, there is no harm in the little one taking his time." Mother blushed at his words.

"My apologizes," she said, dropping my arm, "I simply don't want to keep his Majesty waiting." The guard smiled, an unspoken, sharp edge to it. He didn't comment though, ushering us both inside. His brown eyes lingered on me, and he patted my head.

He lead us through the foray, off to a side door, ushering us into a darker parlor. It was filled with muted reds and oranges, dark wood furniture forming a little meeting area in the center of the room. The guard gestured for us to take the two seats on one side of the table, facing the loveseat.

"His Majesty will be here in a moment," the guard said, "Please, feel free to look around."

I jumped to my feet, only to get pulled back down into my chair. Mother glared at me.

"Remember what I taught you," she hissed.

"Yes momma." I couldn't remember a single thing, but I still nodded and agreed. Hopefully muscle memory would kick in again.

We waited together in silence, the ticking of the grandfather clock the only sound in the room. I played with the hem of my shirt, pulling at a loose thread until my mother hissed at me to sit up straight. It was painfully boring after that. Then the King entered.

"Your Majesty," Mother greeted, standing and curtsying.

The tall man sneered. "Kate." Disdain rang out in his voice, leaving me trembling in my chair. Mother didn't seem to mind though.

"Come now Mattias," she simpered, "Is that any way to greet your old love?"

"We both know it wasn't love that drove me to you. Why are you here."

"Fair enough," she said, smiling coyly at the man. "I simply thought you'd like to meet your son."

"Any child of yours is no son of mine," the king sneered. I flinched back, but my mother was unbothered by his harsh words. She dragged me up, pulling me against her side.

"Really?" She asked, cradling my head, "Would you truly reject him because of who I am? What would your wife think?" The King shot her a harsh glare.

"Don't bring her into this!" he hissed. Finally, for the first time since he entered the parlor, he looked down at me. His sharp blue eyes met mine, staring me down like I was bug at his feet. Silky black hair framed his head like head like a halo. There was a sharp push against my back, sending me stumbling forward. I didn't run into the King, thankfully, but it was close. My eyes were wide with terror as I stared up at him. We locked eyes, only breaking when I tried to curtsy. It was clumsy, my little body still unfamiliar, and I nearly face planted. My mother sighed, but when I managed to right myself, the King's expression had softened.

"He looks like the late queen doesn't he?" My mother said, her tone sickly sweet. She picked me up, cuddling me against her chest. She carded her fingers through my hair, petting me. "I was surprised when he was born with white hair, I had figured he would get yours." Then she smile, the first genuine one I'd seen since waking up. "He does have your eye color. It makes for such a striking combination."

King Mattias just looked at me, his expression twisted with grief and happiness. He schooled himself though, turning to my mother again.

"Fine," he said curtly, "We can discuss his living arrangements over tea." He turned on his heels, his cape flaring out behind him. "Maids will take you both to guest rooms and help you get ready." And with, he marched out of the room.

He hadn't even asked for my name!