The Princess Transformed Ch. 05

Here we are, folks, at the very end of the tale. Yes, this IS the last chapter, with all the good things you've come to expect from the Transformed series—beautiful elfsluts, political intrigue, and lots of hot sex (especially the last bit!).

It's been a quite a ride, and I hope you've enjoyed it. I would say more but I think I'll let the story speak for itself.

As always thanks to my amazing editor, moncrifelle, for the editing work.

******

Daphnia stirred into wakefulness. It seemed that only minutes ago she was in the arms of her lover, relaxing in the aftermath of their vigorous copulation, and what a pleasant dream it was.

Wait, that was no dream. The princess's eyelids snapped open, taking in everything around her. She was indeed in her lover's arms, but it was no time for relaxation. Rampillion awaited, and now that Briva had recovered his senses, she was not about to let her brother face the usurper alone.

"Briva . . . wake up. Wake up! Your help is needed."

The slumbering giant above her woke slowly. He looked down upon her as if seeing her for the first time.

"Daphnia . . . Daphnia? Is that you? Where are we? What is going on?"

Apparently the spell that Rampillion must have used to control his mind also left him befuddled and confused. Well, they had no time for lengthy explanations. Daphnia squirmed out from under his arms and proceeded to fill him in on what had happened in as short a time as possible. She had things she wanted to know as well. Who was he, really? What had happened to him while she was away? But all those could wait.

Rampillion waited on the other side of the doors. Their eyes met and they nodded as one. It was time.

They rushed in only to see that battle had already been joined. Perthias, sword at the ready, was facing off against the usurper. The remains of several hellhounds lay about him—no doubt summoned by Rampillion. Perthias was bleeding from multiple wounds, but he was still standing. Upon seeing Daphnia and Briva enter, though, the Crimson Mage smiled a cruel, supercilious grin.

"So kind of you to join us, Princess. Now I shall have the pleasure of killing all of you at once, and not just your brother."

"The only one who is going to die here is you, usurper." Daphnia spat.

Now that the object of her hatred was finally in front of her, the transformed princess had to fight to not lose control of herself. She wanted nothing more to sprint forwards and wring the life out of the Crimson Mage's scrawny neck, but that would have been a foolhardy course of action if there ever was one.

But now that there were three of them, the odds would turn to their favor, or so she hoped. With a bloodcurdling howl, Briva leapt to the attack. Perthias joined him, and both of them bore down on Rampillion as he sat smirking on the throne.

The Crimson Mage gestured, and eldritch serpents snaked forth from Rampillion's outstretched arms. Sword and axe cut them apart as soon as they were spawned, but for each one that was cut down, two more sprang into existence to take their place. The transformed men redoubled their efforts, whirling and spinning their weapons in a dance of death, but no sooner had the men dealt with the last of the magical snakes that Rampillion had conjured up a new threat.

Thorny vines surged up from the ground, threatening to ensnare Briva and Perthias. It was only their enhanced strength and speed that enabled them to avoid them at the last moment. Rampillion's cackle filled their ears as they found their footing once more and faced the mage, but it was obvious they were hard-pressed.

Daphnia watched this all in silent frustration. If only she had her magic back! It was frustrating beyond measure to see the two men she loved struggle with the architect of all their sorrows. There had to be something she could do . . . something she could look out for . . .

Wait, that was it! Her astral sight was still intact. She could see. She could still see the spells, even if she couldn't cast them. She had to hope it was enough.

"Briva, to the left! Perthias, get away!"

The men shot quick glances at her. In the heat of battle, they had forgotten she was there and hastened to obey. Stone spears thrust up from the ground, but pierced empty air where they had been scant seconds before. One threat averted at least.

She continued to shout instructions to her allies. Thanks to her still-functioning astral sight, she could see the spells forming before they came fully to life, and so Briva and Perthias managed to avoid fireballs, evade lightning bolts and dive away from icy shards before they were impaled. There would be no replay of the first battle she fought against the Crimson Mage; not if she had anything to do with it.

She saw Rampillion's forehead crease as he fought to save himself from the onslaught of both assailants. Now that they were able to attack without fear of reprisal, their efforts had the mage on the back foot, and this time it was Rampillion who had to scramble to defend himself. A hastily conjured barrier of green-white energy kept Briva and Perthias at bay, but not for long—their blows hammered against the shields the moment it was erected, and it began to splinter under their attacks.

It was working. It was working! Daphnia almost shouted herself hoarse in excitement. They would win this for Erecia, and for themselves. Master of transformation he might be, and no stranger to magical battle, but this was an altogether different arena. Rampillion was out of his depth, and it showed. Sword and axe continued to batter against the Crimson Mage's wards until finally with a sharp keening sound, they broke apart for good.

The two of them spared the usurper no respite. They rushed as one to the throne and Rampillion only had a moment to snarl and turned only to meet nearly a meter of hard, cold steel through his gut. He retched blood once and then was still.

It was over. Just like that, it was over. Daphnia let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Could it be? Could it really be that their long struggle was at an end? She looked up at Briva and Perthias. The former also in a state of half-shock, the latter's face a mask of grim determination. The Crimson Mage was dead by their hand, which meant that Erecia was free. And Daphnia could get her body back.

It didn't seem real. Daphnia closed her eyes, then opened them. No, it was all still here. She wasn't sucking or fucking in a dungeon somewhere, or walking through trees, or conversing with hooded figures in town halls. She was in the throne room of Castle Erecia, and the dead body of Rampillion lay at her feet, his blood staining the carpet a deep red. Crimson Mage indeed.

She swayed slightly and it was Briva who steadied her with one hand as he looked at her concernedly. She managed a smile in return and clasped his hand with her own smaller one. Yes, it was over.

******

It took some time for things to be sorted out. The first thing Daphnia did was to take a good, long rest. She was too tired to think, let alone fuck. As happy as she was to have her kingdom back and to be united with Briva, she needed sleep before she could do anything else.

She awoke from a nearly two-day long slumber. The battle had taken a lot out of her. Clean-up efforts were already under way. The castle had been restored to its former condition, with the green and gold colors of her kingdom replacing the detestable red of its former conqueror. The slave pens were empty. The resistance forces had swept through the castle and taken charge of everything from the arms in the armory to the ledgers in library.

There was more to be done, of course. The royal family would have to be formally reinstated, and then there was the not-so inconsiderable matter of the shattered castle gates. But for now, Daphnia was glad to simply walk in the gardens like she could before. It was such a relief to not have the threat of imprisonment or death over her head. To know that her people and her family were free. To enjoy the blue sky and the emerald of the trees around her in the way that they were meant to be. Even that damnable itch didn't seem such a problem now. In fact, she rather looked forward to scratching it with Briva when the time came.

That would of course be before her transformation was reversed. Which couldn't come soon enough. Now that Rampillion was dead, his sorcery had weakened and it should be possible to undo the transformation magic. She had half-expected the spell to dissolve at the moment of his demise, but wasn't at all surprised when it didn't. For all his failings and depravity, the late Crimson Mage was a powerful spellcaster, and well-crafted spells (as with all things) tended to survive their creators. No, she would have to enlist the help of the resistance with this. She had upheld her part of the bargain. Now it was time for them to do theirs.

Speaking of which, her mother had filled her in on the details regarding them. She didn't know whether to be surprised or impressed (or both) upon learning of the truth. A veritable army of transformees worked under Rampillion's nose for decades seeking to undermine him. It was a fantastical tale made all the more amazing by its reality. It would certainly explain how they had managed to garner all their resources, and their knowledge of the late usurper and his ways. But it was all a moot point now.

Daphnia's walk ended at the throne room which bore no resemblance to where a pitched battle had taken place only a few days earlier. The floors had been scrubbed clean of grime, gore and blood, but the most notable change was the throne itself—where once Rampillion had sat, now her mother presided over the kingdom once again, crown on her head and scepter in hand. Gladia bestowed her daughter with a warm smile as she entered the room, and Daphnia smiled back. It was good to be home.

Her mother had been the first of the family to be restored. The resistance had whisked her away to work their magic on her, and she had emerged from the ritual chamber a new woman. Well, a restored one, at least. She actually looked younger than when she had originally been transformed. A side effect of the magic, perhaps. Gladia had actually privately confided in her daughter that she preferred to be younger looking and the benefits that came with it. Daphnia had just smiled.

Ruling a kingdom was hard work, and the princess of the realm had thought even before this entire debacle had started that her mother should have taken a lover or two. With her younger looking body (and, Daphnia suspected, a renewed libido) men should come flocking to the beautiful queen. At least some good would come of all this.

As for her brother, like her mother, his transformation had come only half undone, but he didn't seem to mind the increased strength and stamina that came with it. Neither did his lover - Daphnia had met Cythea in person after the battle was over, and had taken an instant shine to the older elfslut. Giggly though she was, (and how much of that was a front, Daphnia wondered . . .) Cythea seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, and Daphnia was sure that her brother would be in good hands with her. At the very least, she seemed to have cured him of his skirt-chasing ways; he seemed utterly and completely besotted with her.

Which brought Daphnia back to herself. She was the next in line to be restored, but truth be told, she was in no especial hurry to do so. Why not speak with her mother first?

"How are you feeling, mother dearest?" Daphnia enquired.

"Never better, and you?" For some reason Gladia could not quite meet Daphnia's eyes during their exchange of greetings . . . most curious.

"Well enough." Daphnia decided to probe deeper. "Is anything the matter?"

"No, well . . . that is . . ." More evasions. This was strange. Gladia was typically not the type to stand on ceremony, nor beat about the bush.

"Let me explain, Your Highness."

Daphnia turned to see Tyzhe standing at the doors to the throne room. Of all the surprises that awaited her after her kingdom's restoration, the revelation that the stuffy, hooded figure was actually a delectable elfslut had to be one of the biggest. But now that she wasn't making cryptic statements or making demands of her, Daphnia actually found her to be quite likable, not to mention attractive. She wouldn't mind a tumble in the hay without those robes in the way, but back to the present moment.

"So, what is it?" Daphnia asked.

Tyzhe shuffled her feet and looked down at the floor. Daphnia had the distinct impression that there was something that she had to say but that she would much rather not. Once again, there was nothing to do but wait. Victory or no, some things about the resistance didn't change.

Then she looked up and their eyes met—elfslut to elfslut—and Tyzhe spoke.

"We regret to say that your transformation cannot be reversed."

Daphnia was stunned into shock. The words were out of her mouth before she even registered them." What do you mean, you can't reverse it? That wasn't the deal! I was supposed to help you, and would you help me get my body back! You . . . you . . .!" She was bordering on hysteria and she knew it, but she couldn't help herself.

Daphnia was about to go on when Tyzhe put a steadying hand on her shoulder. In the other elfslut's eyes was nothing but compassion, and that most gentle of emotions steadied Daphnia's turmoil somewhat.

"We are sorry. We truly are. Your spell was the oldest of all the ones cast, and as such despite our best efforts it has resisted every attempt at dispelling. Rampillion must have put more into it than the other spells. It seemed like he was especially intrigued and incensed by your attempt to fight him." Tyzhe spread her hands in a gesture of conciliation. "If it is any consolation, we are in much the same shape as you are. The spells on us were cast much earlier than yours, so there is no hope whatsoever for their removal. We undertook these tasks knowingly. If we can be of any aid to you, Daphnia (for once, there was no "Highness") you have to but ask. If we could . . ."

It was a little much to take it all at once, and so despite the gratitude she felt at Tyzhe's offer, Daphnia held out a hand for silence. The other elfslut acquiesced immediately. The princess didn't know what she felt or what she wanted to do. Finally she settled on spinning on her heel and stalking out the door. She needed some time alone to think.

******

Daphnia took the time, and then some. She walked in the gardens, she took long naps, she wandered through the marketplace—heedless of the admiring stares that she garnered wherever she trod. She gazed at the sky and stars, trying to reconcile herself with the cold reality of what had happened.

She wouldn't be able to go back to being a human. No, she was doomed to be an elfslut in perpetuity, perhaps forever. How long did elfsluts live anyway? What did they do when they weren't fucking? She had never given thought to these matters before. It had always been a given that she would get her human body back after Rampillion was gone. It was always "after Erecia was free once more." Well, now that Erecia was free, she was still an elfslut.

Daphnia took the time to think, and the time to brood. She took so much time in fact that she began to get bored with herself. She had always been a person of action, and the what-ifs and if-onlys never sat well with her. There was also the matter of that itch again. No matter how she might feel or think, her elfslut body was most insistent about what she needed, and what she needed as the days wore on was a good, long, hard fucking.

Elfslut, or princess, or both, the world would still continue on without her. And she did so want to see a free Erecia with her own two eyes. So it was on that day she decided to make her way back to the castle. She was almost to the gates (now almost repaired) when an unexpected voice greeted her.

"Your Highness, your Highness! You're safe!"

Could it be . . . it was! The sandy hair and bright blue eyes of the youth who rushed into her arms were unmistakable. It was Tivin, her young charge from the forest. Momentarily forgetting her predicament, she gathered him up in a warm hug and tousled his hair. It was times like these that a familiar face was a godsend.

"I'm glad to see you safe too, Tivin. I was worried about you. I'm sorry I had to leave you behind back at the town."

"No need to apologize, Your Highness. You did what you had to do. They told me I was too young to fight on the front lines, so waited at home, but I rushed here the moment I heard the castle had fallen."

"I never got to thank you properly, but I can think of a few ways to do that." Her smile turned from innocence to predatory, and she reached one hand down to fondle his privates through the leather breeches he wore. Sure enough, he was erect. Proximity to an elfslut would do that to even the most jaded of men.

He gulped and lowered his head in shame, and Daphnia almost giggled in glee. He was so cute!

She would enjoy what was to come immensely. If she was cursed to spend the rest of her life as an elfslut, she was sure as hell going to enjoy it. And truth to tell, she missed the boy. He was a true and loyal manservant, and a gentle and considerate lover. She took Tivin by the hand and led him to her chambers. Or at least, that was her plan until along the way another familiar face made an appearance.

They were just turning into the corridors that led to her rooms when they ran into Briva. He was coming down the same space as they were until they almost bumped into each other, and it was just as well they didn't, given his massive size. Apparently, the resistance hadn't managed to reverse the magics on him, either.

He spoke before she could. "Daphnia! We were wondering where you went. Your brother is looking for you, as is your mother."

"Let them look for a while longer." She wasn't quite ready to face them yet, not until the heat in her legs had been quenched, at least. "And what about you? Have you been looking for me as well?" The gaze she shot him made her intentions quite clear, and he gulped in much the same way Tivin had before. Daphnia could not quite suppress a chuckle. Turning the tables on men was so fun!

"Yes, yes, I have, well I mean no, well, that is . . . it is good to see you safe," he said lamely.

Daphnia fixed him with a stern gaze for a few seconds before finally relenting, smiling to show it was all a joke. "I am glad to see you safe as well, Briva. It is a pity you could not be transformed back, but . . . oh, where are my manners? Briva, this is Tivin, my manservant. Tivin, this is Briva, my, uh, compatriot."

The two men—one human, one slave, one short and thin, one tall and muscular—regarded each other for a second, then shook hands with a hint of caution. They didn't quite know what to make of each other, which made perfect sense—they had just met. But seeing the two of them, a plan began to hatch inside Daphnia's fertile mind, one aided in no small part by the steadily growing fire between her legs.

"Tivin, what do you say to Briva joining us in my room?"

"Yo . . . your Highness? Do you mean to say that . . .?" sputtered the youth.

Daphnia was reminded of when she had first announced her intention to whore herself out for travel money on the road to Asdale; he had reacted in much the same way.

"Come now, it will be fun! Don't you think so, Briva?" She wouldn't pull rank on the poor boy this time. She tried to enlist Briva in her efforts, but he was reacting much the same way the younger man was.

She could almost see the struggle in their heads—an elfslut right in front of them for the taking. But they had to share? Daphnia didn't see the problem with that. Actually, she was almost panting with excitement. She had fought enough wars for a lifetime. Why make war when they could make love instead?