Reincarnated as the Vampire Princess' Familiar
Chapter 61 - 15 - Hidden dark side

Chapter 61: 15 - Hidden dark side

«Little sister, have you already told Lyon about your marriage to Edgar? He seems to have grown very fond of you, but even more than that... you’ve grown fond of him.» Daphne asks Ayra in a voice that’s sweet, yet tinged with worry.

It’s the middle of the night—the Minus Moon hangs high in the sky—and the two sisters have been lying on the grassy shore of Lake Umlareth for hours, just like they always do when Ayra feels unsettled.

Ayra’s right arm is completely bandaged—using the Superior Blood Word, Vorianis, caused a series of severe internal fractures, both in the bones and muscles, spreading from her wrist up to her collarbone—now treated with special bandages and blood-based ointments to accelerate the reconstruction of bones and missing patches of skin.

Ayra knew that her mastery of the spell was still little more than basic, and that she was lucky to escape with just a broken arm—a failed execution of Vorianis can lead to far worse consequences—but the thought of losing Lyon forever gave her the strength and courage to try. It was the price she had to pay for victory.

At that question, a tear slides down Ayra’s face, falling onto the blades of grass beneath her head.

«I told him the last night he spent at the castle—I couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore. I opened my heart to him, about my upcoming marriage to Edgar Narkov... and about my feelings for him. But right after, I used Oblivio to erase it all from his memory. I don’t want him to suffer because of me...»

«Oh, little sister...» Daphne sighs. Her hand gently rests on Ayra’s leg, slowly gliding up the length of her black skirt toward the inside of her sister’s thighs.

Ayra shivers slightly—a faint moan escapes her lips—an instinctive reaction that lasts only a moment. It’s part of the usual massage Daphne gives her sister to soothe her anxiety—just like the one she gave Lyon the day before at the thermal caves—a gentle touch of the fingers running along the thigh, from the knee up to the lower belly, and then back down again.

«Is that why you fought to take Ginevra away from Countess Amelia Dulcar?» Daphne asks. «And I guess that’s also why you took her with you to the best beauty salon in Mildelar... you want Lyon to fall in love with Ginevra, don’t you?» she states. «For now, your marriage is still a secret—only you, me, Edgar, and of course our parents know about it—but you won’t be able to keep it hidden forever.»

A supposition that, judging by her little sister’s reaction, turns out to be correct.

«I know, there are only a few months left before the wedding. That’s why I’m doing everything I can to help him find happiness with another woman as soon as possible. The night I told him everything... he was devastated. He cried and trembled—and that’s exactly why I used Oblivio. If he had reacted with indifference or joy, everything would’ve been so much easier...» Ayra starts sobbing harder and harder, tears now pouring from her eyes without restraint. «The thought that another woman could take my place in Lyon’s heart causes a pain I didn’t even know was possible without going insane... but I have no choice. As Edgar’s future wife, and future commander of the Scarlet Army, my role in Lyon’s life will become so marginal I fear how he’ll react. And my feelings for him... they’re mutual. That’s why I truly wish he finds someone who can fill the void I’m going to leave behind...»

Daphne closes her eyes and lets out a deep sigh—her left hand still resting between Ayra’s thighs, while the other moves behind her sister’s neck, gently pulling her head against her chest.

Ayra’s tears fall onto her sister’s chest, while Daphne’s left hand gently caresses the nape of her neck.

«And if that woman were me...?» Daphne asks with striking naturalness.

«Y-You...?» Ayra stammers. «B-Big sister, you’re a woman of beauty and class like no other in Mildelar—everyone acknowledges that—but I’m not sure Lyon feels that kind of interest for you...»

«Oh, you think so? Yes, it’s true that when you’re around, he acts pretty indifferent toward me—as if I were some invisible ghost—but when it’s just the two of us...» Daphne’s voice, until now sweet and full of care, suddenly turns more mischievous. «Yesterday, we went to the Sylvarel thermal caves—I took him there to ease his worries about your clash with Amelia—and the whole time, his impressive erection floated above the water’s surface, as if proudly flaunting his interest in me. Not to mention this morning, during the Judicium Sanguinis. He slyly pulled me onto his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around my hips... and his big cock was pressing hard against my ass—with such strength and firmness, it couldn’t be mistaken for anything else but desire.»

Ayra’s eyes widen in disbelief, her body trembles visibly, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum, and her breath turning short and uneven—just like in the middle of a panic attack.

«I-I can’t believe Lyon behaved like that with you... he’s not that kind of guy...» she murmurs, her eyes red and glistening from crying.

«Yeah, I used to think the same. But Sasha and Levreshka were there with me and can confirm everything I just told you. Apparently, you know him less than you think,» Daphne’s voice shifts again, turning harsher, more severe. «But in the end, I can’t really blame him, considering he had the misfortune of becoming the familiar of a selfish and irresponsible woman!»

«W-Why are you telling me such cruel things?»

Ayra’s crying is now uncontrollable, her voice reduced to a muffled, choked sob—and her sister’s harsh words only make it worse.

«These aren’t cruel words—they’re just the truth!» Daphne exclaims. «I love you with all my heart, little sister, and believe me, blaming you hurts me more than it hurts you... but that’s how things are! You’re Lyon’s mistress, and yet in these last weeks, he’s spent more time with me! I’ve done everything I could to make up for your absence, but the pain of not having you by his side has eaten away at him, day after day—until it drove him to desire me! And it’s not fair... I’m not his mistress!»

The woman’s voice grows, if possible, even harsher—it drips with irritation and anger.

«You knew about the marriage to Edgar even before Lyon became your familiar. Why did you deceive him like that? Why did you make him believe there could be love between you—not just a simple mistress-familiar relationship?»

«B-Because it’s true...! I really do love him...!»

«Bullshit!» Daphne cuts her off.

Despite her anger, she shows no sign of stopping the massage she’s giving Ayra. On the contrary, she takes it to a more... intimate level. Her fingers no longer move with gentle care, but with growing fervor and passion, sliding deeper and deeper between her sister’s thighs.

«If you truly loved him, you would’ve treated him like any other familiar—to stop him from developing feelings for you. A love that was impossible from the start. Sure, he would have suffered, just like any other human here... but it would’ve been physical pain. Pain that, over time, he could’ve learned to endure and accept. Far less than what he’ll feel when he sees the woman he loves in another man’s arms—a man you were destined to marry from the beginning. Ayra, how many times a day do you have sex with Lyon?»

«T-To tell the truth...» Ayra’s breathing grows heavier, and the moans slipping from her lips sharper—the result of a massage growing increasingly intimate. Yet Ayra shows no sign of resistance or discomfort, as if it were something entirely normal. A "relaxing massage to relieve tension"—that’s what Daphne has always called it—one she’s been giving her little sister since Ayra was eleven, always on that same grassy shore by Lake Umlareth. «...W-We’ve never done it...»

Daphne slowly shakes her head in resignation.

«How can you dare say you love him? Sex is the greatest proof of love a woman can give her man, and not a day goes by without me showing it to my Kajetan—he’d never go looking for comfort between another woman’s legs, because he already gets everything a man could want from the woman he loves!»

«W-What... aaahh... what should I do, big sister? I-I trust you... I’ll do whatever you tell me...»

Ayra’s cheeks are now visibly red, her eyes tightly shut, and her lower belly tense.

Daphne’s expression turns thoughtful—deliberately thoughtful, as if she were truly trying to come up with a solution on the spot, when in reality, everything has already been carefully planned in her mind.

«Unfortunately, I see no other option, little sister, but to take your place—both as his mistress and as a woman. You don’t deserve to have a boy with a heart of gold like him by your side. And even though I’ve never felt any interest in Lyon—neither as a man nor as a familiar—it’s a necessary sacrifice I feel compelled to make to spare him further pain. If you had been a responsible mistress, we wouldn’t be in this situation. This is all your fault, Ayra.»

«Y-You’re right... aaah... I’ve acted so selfishly... I didn’t mean to... aaah... I swear I never meant to make him suffer...!»

«I know, little sister... I know...»

Daphne resumes gently stroking the nape of Ayra’s neck.

«That’s what big sisters are for—to fix the foolishness of their naïve little sisters. Now, listen closely to my advice: stop acting with Lyon the way you have until now, and start being colder, harsher, more ruthless. You have to make him hate you. It’ll be hard, I know, but it’s necessary—so his feelings for you will fade, and he won’t suffer because of your marriage.»

Ayra answers with a silent nod.

«Once the wedding is over, and you’re officially appointed commander of the Scarlet Army, I’ll take on the responsibility of being Lyon’s mistress—a role you’ll inevitably have to abandon. It’s a difficult solution, both for you and for me... but it’s the only one that can give Lyon the happy future he deserves. And that’s all that matters.»

Ayra wraps her arms around Daphne in a tender embrace.

«Y-Yes, big sister... thank you... I love you...» she finally pants, as a clear liquid drips onto the grassy ground from between her thighs.

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