"All
of the significant battles are waged within the self." -- Sheldon Kopp
After
watching over Regina until she fell asleep, Melinde carefully bundled up the
towels and sheets into her basket and slipped out the door. The guard gave her
a brief glance, then went back to the "back straight, eyes front"
stance that Lord Drax demanded of any guard on duty in his service. The last of
his guards to be discovered slouching on duty was a lazy womanizer named
Bertram, who spent more time chasing his own pleasures than standing guard. He
was last seen being dragged into Drax's dungeons, where his court physicians
lived and worked. His cries for mercy were cut short by the closing of the
heavy metal door.
He never
came out again.
At first,
most of Drax's men assumed he was dead.
But months
later, one of the other soldiers returned from a tax collecting trip to a
distant province with an odd tale to tell. He was there when a large wench
wandered into a village, wearing a simple peasant dress. Its deep bodice
clearly showed her huge well-shaped bosom as it bounced and swayed with every
step, and her long black hair twisted and curled all the way down to her
bountiful hips. She seemed dazed and confused, and kept touching parts of her
in apparent disbelief, her bright green eyes wide with surprise
When she
reached the village inn, she begged for help. Although shy at first, she
finally began to speak, and insisted that she wasn't what she seemed. But every
time she tried to tell everyone what had happened to her, some man's wandering
hand would touch her, making her nearly swoon with pleasure. With each rough
caress, she would forget what it was she had been about to say. Being the only
woman in an inn full of men, she was touched quite often, and by the time the
seventh man squeezed her bottom and buried his face between her breasts, she
gladly agreed with the innkeeper's wish to call her "Betty." Finally,
after the eighth man delivered a long kiss that pinned her to the bar while his
fingers explored, she happily agreed to work there in exchange for a room, in a
voice that was little more than a breathless, lisping squeak.
After a few
days, it seemed pretty clear she would spend the rest of her days in that tiny
inn, serving drinks on her feet -- and men on her back.
A tame
story, some would say. And indeed, some did.
Until the
guard telling the story swore on his honor that, as he rode away from the
village, he realized that the girl had Bertram's eyes. And when she had looked
at him in the bar, 'Bouncing Betty' had turned away in shame, although there
was no call for it as far as he could see at the time. She was just a lusty
wench, after all.
The other
guards thought the story nothing more than a fanciful tale, until Lord Drax's
latest "conquest" was unveiled to the court after his successful
invasion of Northumberland. Once it was common knowledge that Lord Tristan had
become a winsome lass named Trisha, every guard stood straight and tall and
NEVER shirked his duty.
Because a
ghost named Betty haunted their nights, and made their manhood shrivel at the
thought of how close any of them had come to her fate.
###
Melinde
rushed carefully down to the towers steps and ran to the kitchen. Maude and
Cook were waiting for her, anxious for news of their lord and master.
"How
is the prince?" Maude whispered, taking the trembling girl in her arms.
"He's
a princess now, full and true," Mel replied, her voice shaking. "His
manhood traded for a woman's charms, his ... her hips full and round,
and her bosom ... nay, tis true. Tis bigger than mine." Both women gasped,
but Mel held up a hand. "She is a rare beauty, as pretty as Reginald was
handsome. But for all that, the heart of a lion remains within her. Although
weakened, she still has battles left to fight."
"Battles?"
Cook said, confused. "Goodness, child, what can you mean?"
"You
have seen that girl, Brina, that kneels at Drax's feet?" Cook nodded.
"She once was Lord Brian of Duncaster, and now serves as Drax's 'pet.' Now
Regina is to meet the same fate, twisted into some pale shadow of womanhood as
a plaything for the usurper."
Maude wrung
her hands, desolate. "Oh, the poor boy!"
Mel sat at
the worktable, and motioned both women to sit across from her.
"Tonight,
she surrendered to the most foul demands of Lord Drax ..." Mel paused as a
chill ran over her body, and she felt a tear fall. "She ... did what Drax
asked, to save my life, since the evil lord discovered how much I meant to
Regina, and she to me."
Melinde
looked up into Maude's eyes, and found a fire to match her own. "But it is
all supposed to be just a tactical feint in an odd game of war, to lull Drax
into thinking he has tamed Regina ... without Regina losing herself to
him."
"Can
the master hold true to who he – she is?" Cook's fear was evident.
"At
first, yes," Melinde spoke with a sureness both women felt. "Reginald's
will has always been strong, and Regina's will is no less so. But this ...
transformation has hurt him terribly. Drax has taken from him his kingdom, his
life, his future, and his sex. Now the demon works to take Regina's pride and
honor as well. This may be the hardest battle she has ever fought, and I fear
if it goes on too long, she may be lost."
Maude
clasped her hands together. "What can we do to help?"
As the
daughter of King Stephen's most brilliant general and strategist, Melinde had
more of an understanding of war and rebellion than most women of her time. As
she thought for a moment, she began to smile. "Pass the word to all the
servants in the castle," she said, "and any nobles we know we can
trust for sure. Have Regina's tale spread across the land, but quietly. Let her
people know what has happened to their prince, and tell of the sacrifices he
makes to save the life of one of his subjects. We shall build support for the
trials of the new princess, and let the people know we are not beaten."
She paused
as a new idea slipped into her mind, and she latched onto it and spoke again.
"Tell all of King Stephen's subjects to make the invaders believe we are
defeated, just as Regina plans to do with Drax himself. Tell them we will win
with stealth what we lost in arms, but to stay vigilant and prepare themselves.
When the time is right, they will be called to act. Then we will have our lands
again, and Drax will be destroyed."
Both women
saw the determination in Melinde's eyes, and nodded solemnly. After a time,
Maude spoke thoughtfully. "There is no love for Drax in our kingdom. None
at all. If his guards were not everywhere, the people would have risen long
before now. But to fight such a large, cruel force ... it is too hard to even
think about."
"Indeed,
wicked hard it is, when you feel you are alone," Mel agreed. "But
together, and well-led, nothing is impossible."
"But
how can we bring them together?" Cook said softly, clearly frustrated.
"The kingdom is huge! And who will lead them to victory, if we do?"
Melinde's
eyes narrowed, and without a word she rose and walked across the kitchen. From
a cubby near the vegetable bins, she drew parchment, quill, and ink she had
hidden weeks before.
"As I
said, what we lost in arms, we will win with stealth." She sat at the
table and began to write. "And I know just the man to lead us all ... if
he is willing."
###
Regina woke
the next morning to find Melinde standing by the fire, stoking it up to bring
warmth into her tower room. Watching her there, bent over the metal brasier,
the princess cherished her as a friend and a lover. Tracing the curve of her
hip through the peasant dress, she remembered Mel's kiss from yesterday, and
her mind drifted back to the happy times before this nightmare began. Many afternoons,
the two of them would slip away from tutors and chaperones, meeting in fields
and stables to join in blissful union. Regina thought about how they delighted
in the true pleasure of lust and love combined, and shivered all over in
remembered desire.
But where
proud flesh once grew straight and tall, she felt only a small itch and an odd
heat inside her, bringing forth a dampness that seemed to make her nether lips
swell and part. Her nipples plumped and rose as well, becoming so sensitive
that the fabric of the blanket against them sent small waves of pleasure
rolling through her slight frame.
'Although
she inflames my desires still,' Regina thought sadly, 'I have nothing
with which to please her anymore. And my hopes for our future are dashed. For surely
she would not choose another woman as her partner ... as her mate.'
The tears
began to fall.
Mel turned
and saw that Regina was awake. Then she noticed her tears, and rushed to her
side.
"Are
you in pain, Beloved?" She knelt beside the bed and took the princess's
hand.
"Only
in my heart, sweet," Regina replied, her new soft high voice trembling
with sorrow. "You are so lovely, and still fill me with need. But I cannot
hope to be your husband now ... not with my manhood so cruelly twisted and my
body a mere shadow of your own." She turned her head away. "Even if
this form still pleased you, I have no way to show you the depth of my love, or
to bring you the pleasure you deserve -- the pleasure only the touch of a man
can bring. And why would you ever choose to wed another woman?"
Mel touched
her chin and turned Regina's face towards her. "I choose to wed the love
of my life, dear one. Your body is but a shell that holds the one soul in all
the world that matches mine." Mel gently traced Regina's curves beneath
the blankets. "As for finding your new shape pleasing, I know I could love
the ugliest oaf in the kingdom if your soul resided within his hulkish frame.
Why should I not love you now, in a form as beautiful as this?"
"But
... but I am a woman now!" The princess was embarrassed to feel her lip
trembling.
"As am
I, dear one," Mel replied, gently brushing stray hairs from the young
girl's forehead. "Why should you doubt my love?"
"I
would never doubt you, dearest," Regina whispered. "But as I am ...
as you are ... how can I bring you the pleasure you deserve, when my parts ...
when I am ... when I seem as much a woman as my love?"
Melinde
looked down at the girl her beloved had become. She looked past all that had
been done, and saw the man she once loved, grieving for her lost manhood and
hurting ... because she could not please the woman she loved more than life
itself. She needed to show Regina that all was not hopeless. The princess needed
to see that there could be a life with her beloved once Drax had been
overthrown.
But Mel had
never been attracted to another woman before.
'Can I
do this?' Her face remained unchanged but her heart was in turmoil. 'I
have never loved a woman before the way I love this man. But my man, my heart's
true love ... he I was destined to wed ... is a woman now. Can I want him as
much as he still wants me? Can I truly burn for a woman's body as I once did
for Reginald?'
Mel
remembered the day after her first time of blood had finally ceased, when she
had discovered the pleasure she could bring forth in her own body with just a
touch and a fantasy. Her mind went back to yesterday's kiss, and how her
desires rose and overcame the feeling of soft lips on hers, and another bosom
pressed tightly to her own. It didn't feel strange. It felt right. In a matter
of seconds, everything became very clear to Melinde, and her resolve
strengthened as she realized the truth. She smiled.
'My love
is as strong as it ever was,' she thought proudly. 'Stronger, because I
know how much it hurts her to surrender to Drax to preserve me. In that
sacrifice is a proof of a fire that will burn forever, in both of our souls.
Love is love and pleasure is pleasure, man or woman it matters not. Of that, I
am certain. Regardless of the bodies we wear, we are one -- still and always.'
"Beloved,"
Melinde said softly. "One heart, one soul we share, and so it shall
remain. We shall never part, for I know beneath that woman's shape is the man I
love. No matter what may happen, no matter what our future holds, I am yours,
and you are mine, and that will never change." She rose to her feet and
pulled the kerchief from her head. She untied the bow that held the top of her
dress closed. Slipping it from her shoulders, she let it fall down past her
hips and rest on the hard floor. Finally, she slowly removed the soft
undergarments she had worn beneath. When Mel stood naked beside the bed.
Regina's eyes widened.
"And
as for pleasing me ... for pleasing each other," she whispered, peeling
back the covers and sliding in beside the astonished girl. "Let me show
some things I learned when I first became a woman. Let me pleasure you ... so
you can see how to please me, in turn."
Melinde
wrapped herself around her mate and kissed her with every ounce of love her
frame could hold. Breast to breast, skin to skin, Regina felt that love
surround her, and her sorrow slipped away on the tides of passion that rose
within her ... passion that echoed in her mate's heart as well. Mel moved her
lips back, breathing heavily, and spoke only a hair's breadth distant from the
lips of her beloved.
"Let
me show you how to bring me pleasure," she whispered, "as only
another woman can."
###
"It's
a travesty, I tell you! How's a man supposed to steal an honest living?"
In the
front rooms of the Thieving Magpie, Slocum's largest inn, breakfast was
being served to what appeared to be a group of traveling men, peddlers, ladies
of the night, and wayward workers -- all seeking their fortune, traveling from
town to town. In reality, this was the first full meeting of the kingdom's
Thieves Guild since Drax had invaded and conquered the land.
Out in the
street, carefully hidden apprentices watched every approach, alert to the
danger of discovery by Drax's soldiers. At the first sign of an official
presence, the meeting would adjourn and dissolve back into a group of
strangers, sharing an awkward morning repast.
But for
now, it was still a meeting of the Thieves Guild. And the guild members were
NOT happy.
"This
Drax monster has no liking for the art, that's for sure," one of the women
piped up. Polly was one of the best pickpockets and cutpurses in the kingdom.
Her ample bosom provided all the distraction she needed. "Unless it's him
that's doin' the stealin'. He's a bigger thief than any of us. He took the
entire kingdom!"
Roger, a
highwayman from the far reaches, shouted agreement. "Polly's right! Say
what you want about King Stephen, but he was always fair and honest -- to a
fault, God rest his soul. Made it a right pleasure to steal from his tax men.
And them was all fair folk as well. There was that bunch out Sussex way. Robbed
'em regular as clockwork, I did, even although they tried their best to stop
me. Always ended well. And not a hair harmed on either side, ever."
The whole
group spoke in unison. "Take nothing but goods and coin. Let no blood be
spilled or lives be lost."
"Exactly!"
Sally, a grown woman the size and shape of a small child piped up. She
sometimes worked an orphan con that put her in a noble's house and put his
valuables in her sack before a night was done. "That's Guild law! That's
what makes it an art, don't it? Any oaf can smash 'n grab. Takes a right artist
to do 'em without a scratch, 'n leave 'em wondering what's what. Got to have
talent to hurt nuffin but their pride while you pad your own purse."
Roger's
anger rose, and he slammed his tankard on the table. "Tis a foul
blow," he shouted, rising to his feet. "We're masters of the craft,
we are, being baited by common ruffians in armor, working for that ... that
madman in the castle. Taking everything before we get there, killin' anyone who
says 'boo' to stop 'em."
The crowd
roared, and Tobias let them. He was a tall, well-muscled man, with pale blue
eyes and long brown hair that fell in a tumble of curls down over his broad
shoulders. Many a victim had been beguiled by his easy smile into parting with
their fortune before they knew they had been tricked. Well liked by everyone he
met, Tobias was an easy choice to lead the Guild, and rose through the ranks
with a speed others would have found frightening, had his charm not won them
over before he even thought to rise.
As Guild
Master, he could have quieted the room with just a word, but Tobias knew they
needed to let their anger out before it consumed them all. With Drax's
invasion, the kingdom -- their "patch" -- had been taken and defiled
by heavy-handed thugs in his service. It left them nothing but rage, and no way
to express it.
Still, it
went against Guild tradition to meddle in politics, warfare, or diplomacy. Most
guild members felt such pursuits to be beneath them, since above all, they
served the craft -- and the craft could be served anywhere there were riches,
regardless of who ruled.
Or so they
had thought, until Lord Drax conquered ... and stayed.
Tobias
sighed, and rubbed his temples. 'The people hated the new regime,' he
thought savagely. 'If King Stephen had managed to escape, there might have
been a chance to end this tyranny quickly, and the guild could have gone back
to its business. Even now, if Prince Reginald were alive, there would be hope
of an insurrection.'
But no word
had come from the castle concerning his fate. Of course there were rumors, but
nothing definite, and some almost impossible to believe. But imprisoned or
dead, Reginald could not lead the people to victory. And his fair cousin
Melinde, betrothed to Reginald, remained missing as well, which vexed him no
end. To say he was worried was an understatement, since Drax's reputation
regarding the treatment of the noblewomen he captured was both horrible and all
too justified. He had almost made up his mind to use his skills to slip into
the castle himself and search for her, but he worried that she might be working
on some scheme of her own to unseat the usurper, and was loathe to do anything
that could bring ruin to her plans.
Tobias was
sure Mel knew she could count on him for help, but it had been six weeks since
Drax's invasion, and no word had arrived requesting his aid. So when a sealed
piece of parchment was delivered discreetly to his hand in the midst of the
uproar, his heart rose when he recognized her handwriting, and he devoured the
contents of the missive as if it were the key to finding a treasure he had lost
-- which, indeed, it was. He loved his cousin dearly, as much for her lack of
disapproval at his chosen profession as for her winsome smile and gentle ways.
'She
would have made a fine thief,' he mused with a sense of pride as he worked
his way through her letter eagerly. 'Hiding under Drax's nose for weeks as a
maid. Brilliant! Should have figured the idiot would discount the servants as
nothing more than cogs in some machine, meant to serve only him. It's almost as
if the world exists for him and him alone -- that nothing has meaning except as
it relates to him.'
As
Melinde's words spilled forth from the pages, Tobias read that the rumors were
true! Reginald was alive, held captive and transformed ... into a woman???
... by Drax's foul hand. He could scarcely credit that last part, but Mel had
always spoken true to him in the past, and there was no reason to doubt her
now. Reginald was alive.
He froze. 'Reginald
WAS alive,' he thought fiercely. 'Bent and twisted in both mind and
body, but alive. With a live royal, there was more than a chance. There was
hope.'
'There
was a way.'
Tobias
thought for a moment, then sighed. 'There is a way, but it won't be easy,'
he thought. 'Best do it now, and strike while their anger still holds sway.'
The guild
leader rose to his feet, throwing back his chair and startling everyone in the
inn's great room. All eyes turned to him, and he looked upon his people, and
his eyes were like stone.
"Drax
is a thief," he declared. Everyone murmured agreement. "We're all
agreed, then. He's one of us." This drew confused looks from some of the
more ardent opponents of the despot. "Granted, stealing a kingdom is a
grand caper. IF you play by the rules."
Tobias
allowed his expression to darken, and his tone fairly growled his displeasure.
"But he hasn't, has he? He hasn't played by the rules at all. In fact,
Drax broke our most hallowed law ... and we stood by and let him do it!"
There were cries of outrage from the crowd, and Tobias raised his voice in
reply. "It's true! He crossed a line he should never have crossed, and we
let him! Because he stole more than just a kingdom, didn't he? More than just
peasants and nobles and lands and a crown."
The crowd
fell silent. Tobias looked at them all, and let his anger roar out into the
room.
"HE
... STOLE ... OUR ... PATCH!"
His words
echoed in a room stunned into silence.
'Worse yet,
we LET him steal it! We stood aside like a bunch of ... apprentices ..."
The word dripped scorn ... "and we let him take what was ours, right out
from under us!"
"If any
other thief were to try to take what's ours, would we let him?"
The crowd
looked at each other, then at Tobias, and shook their heads.
"Would
we let him?" he shouted, and a few of the others said, "no!"
"Would
we?" he bellowed, and the guild replied with a shout that shook the
building.
"NO!"
"THAT's
what I wanted to hear," Tobias laughed, slamming his fist down on the
table. The he grew quiet, and leaned forward.
"So
he's got our patch, and we want it back. But now that he's got it, like any
good thief, he wants to keep it, right?" A ripple of laughter ran through
the crowd. "So he's got walls and locks and guards and weapons and armies
to keep him and what he stole safe and sound. Or so he thinks."
"Because
what he doesn't have," Tobias said with a smile, "and what he can't
protect against ... is us. We're artists, we are. Not heavy-handed thugs like
Drax and his armored goons. We've got the skills he never had and never even
dreamed he needed ... and by all that's holy, we're going to steal our patch
back!"
A lone
voice piped up form the back of the room. "Looking to be a king, now,
Toby?"
Tobias
smiled wider. He knew that question was coming.
"What
need of I for a kingdom? I have our patch -- or at least I DID, until Drax took
it! And here, with all of you, I am MORE than a king! I am a Guild Master ...
the leader of equals, not one for crowns and thrones!! Why in the world would I
want to be a king? Although to be fair to kings, it must be said that King
Stephen did a magnificent job keeping our patch safe ... until Drax took his
life." Everyone bowed their heads briefly in respect.
Tobias
looked around the room. "You might wonder ... if Tobias is too smart to
want to be a king ..." The members laughed again, and the Guild Master
smiled. "... then who will protect our patch now that Stephen is gone? The
answer is here, my friends. This letter ..." He waved it over his head.
"... tells me that his son, Prince Reginald, is still alive, and even now
being held prisoner in the castle!"
An
explosion of noise erupted from the assembled thieves, and Tobias raised his
voice once more. "He's alive! But he's not quite the man he once
was." Silence. Tobias let some anger slip into his voice once again.
"Drax once again broke our rules, in OUR patch. He stole what he should
not ... could not ... DARE not! Through some vile surgery and terrible medicine
from the far East, he has stolen Reginald's very sex." The room fell to a
hush. Tobias leaned forward. "He's turned our prince ... into a
woman!"
Stunned
silence. Into the vacuum, Tobias spoke.
"Drax
has taken everything from us. And now he's taken everything from Reginald ...
his kingdom, his manhood ... his life." More silence. "You all know
the law. OUR law. 'Take nothing but goods and coin. 'Let no blood be spilled
or lives be lost.' This is our patch, and that is our law. But blood has
been spilled, and lives have been lost -- or taken. By DRAX!"
Tobias
slammed his fists into the table.
"Enough!"
he roared at the others. "We are NOT farmers or merchants, to be
frightened by armored soldiers, or cheated by an honorless noble who takes what
he wants through force of arms! We are THIEVES! The best of the best! No walls
can stop us! No doors can delay us! Stealth is our armor, silence is our sword
-- and this ... this is OUR PATCH! Drax took what was ours ... and we let him.
Now it's time we did a little taking of our own! It's time we took our patch
... back!"
Tobias took
a deep breath, and spoke in a normal tone of voice. "I do so submit. What
say you all?"
The low
rumbling of conversation filled the room as the members debated among
themselves. Tobias stood there and let them talk. He'd put a motion to the
assembly, and he'd done the best he could to sell it. Now it was their turn to
sort it out.
He just
prayed he'd presented his case well enough.
A few
moment later, the sounds of debate wound down. A single figure rose at the back
of the room -- Willoughby, the Guild's oldest member. He looked up at Tobias,
and his face broke into a smile.
"In a
kingdom trapped under a tyrant's heel," he said, "it would be a fine
caper to be one of them that steals the boots out from under him. We're with
you, Guild Master. Let's rob him blind!"
Murmurs of
agreement turned to cheers, and Tobias settled into his seat with a grin. 'Now,'
he thought happily, 'now the fun begins.'
'Now we
take back what's ours, and save my cousin, the prince ... and the kingdom.'
'If we
can.'
###
As
Melinde's message spread throughout the land, the people were shocked and
angered at what they heard. After hearing the tale of King Stephen's ignoble
death at Drax's hands, and the usurper's transformations of royals in far away
kingdoms, everyone was quite ready to believe what had been done to their
beloved prince. No one blamed Reginald for pretending to submit, to protect the
woman he loved. But a fire still blazed beneath the outward calm displayed by
King Stephen's subjects, fueled by rage over the humiliations heaped upon their
captured prince, and Drax's name was cursed and cursed again from the northern
mountains to the southern shores.
But it was
cursed quietly. The silent war of surrender had begun.
Melinde's
instructions to the people were clear, and easily obeyed. Over time, stubborn
resistance slowly became grudging cooperation, although everyone in every town
gave each other a wink and a nod every time an order was obeyed. It became a
sort of game for the townsfolk and their rural kin, to pretend to aid the
invaders at every turn, while undermining Drax's minions whenever they could do
so without revealing their true intent.
As a
result, the fear of open rebellion eased, and the death rate fell dramatically.
Drax's men began feeling more at ease among King Stephen's people. The guards
in the outlying regions grew almost lazy, and the people there did nothing to
make them think they had any reason to be concerned.
Still, deep
into the night across the kingdom, blacksmiths kept their forges lit, and made
swords and spears from broken plows and worn horseshoes. Farmers learned the
art of crafting bows and making arrows, holding target practice in the largest
barns to avoid unwanted discovery. Everyone made ready for the battle they knew
was yet to come.
But for
some, it was hard to think of the kingdom's future, as they mourned their
losses in their own way.
###
Melinde
stood behind the captured princess, and looked at her beloved's reflection with
a critical eye. Regina, on the other hand, did everything she could to avoid
looking in the mirror at all. She shifted uneasily in her high-heeled sandals
and tossed her head, but her chest shifted and bounced in reply, and that only
made her more uncomfortable. Looking past her quivering bosom, she saw her
hands with their thin fingers resting uncomfortably on curves she didn't possess
six weeks ago. She sighed. 'Everything IS different,' she thought, 'and
I would be a fool's fool not to admit it to myself.' Squaring her
shoulders, she turned to face the glass. Anything else would be cowardly, and
that was a mantle she was not ready to accept.
The dress
was the same one they had both seen on Briana, formerly Lord Brian of Duncaster
and Drax's current pet. There were four more identical dresses in a wardrobe in
the corner. Apparently, it was the uniform worn by all of his lordship's
"conquests," with a deep scoop neck that revealed too much of
Regina's rounded flesh for her to ever feel comfortable wearing it. The skirts
were thick and full, giving the illusion of coverage, but they were also slit
up the side almost to the waist. There were no undergarments, making access to
Regina's "charms" easier for her new owner. And with every movement,
the reluctant princess clearly felt the emptiness between her legs.
To Regina,
the dress felt like another badge signifying a status she didn't want, and a
future she would have done anything to avoid.
Anything,
that is, except hurt Melinde.
Her golden
hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back, and her makeup was so
skillfully applied that only she and her beloved could tell it was there.
Regina licked at her lips with the tip of her tongue, tasting the unfamiliar
paint that gave his mouth a plump, pouty shape. Melinde gave her lover's now
shapely bottom a hard slap, startling her enough to make her turn with a frown.
"It's
to look at, not to taste, dear one," Mel said sternly. "If you lick
it off, I'll just have to put more on. And Drax loves his pets to be ...
painted." Regina turned back to the mirror and sighed again. Mel put her
hand on the other girl's shoulder.
"You
are beautiful, you know," she whispered.
Regina
nodded, and her lip trembled. "I know," she replied, her voice shaking.
"It almost makes this worse."
"Oh?
Would you rather he made you an ugly hag? With warts and a hump, all scaly and
hideous? Or maybe a juicy wench with a bosom so large you would need both hands
to hold it up, and never see your feet again! Would that have been
better?" Mel's voice held the tiniest tease, and Regina smiled.
"It
would not matter, beloved." She reached up and put her hand on Melinde's,
then squeezed. "You would not have loved me less, in either case."
"True,
milady." Mel's lip twitched. "But at least now I have something
pretty to look at ... when we aren't 'playing.'"
Regina
laughed aloud, and was startled to hear a high-pitched giggle in place of the
laugh she remembered. Mel raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"More
of those tricks Drax's 'healers' played on your mind while you slept," she
said. "I would imagine your old laugh would hardly be 'appropriate' for a
pet. Not that I can see anything to laugh about in this situation ... except
maybe for Drax himself." Regina looked at her, curious, and Mel shrugged.
"Why do you think he does what he did to you? Because no woman born would
ever want him, so he has to make his own!"
They both
laughed this time, and Regina turned to face her lady with a smile on her lips.
"You
saved me, my Melinde." She looked into Mel's eyes. "Without you, I
--"
"Without
me, you would have done just fine, sweet," Mel said, blushing as she
looked away. The princess touched her chin, and she turned back to face her
beloved once more.
"Without
you," Regina said firmly, "I would be dead. I would have awakened
into this nightmare and done my level best to kill the tyrant. Maybe I would
have succeeded, but more likely I would have failed, and died."
She looked
off into the distance for a moment, then smiled wistfully. "Remember when
we were first betrothed, so long ago? When we decided we couldn't wait and
snuck off to Brother Maynard's chapel? We bid him marry us in secret when we
were children, and he smiled and delivered a pretend ceremony that filled us
both with sobering thoughts of duty and responsibility. Being so young, I could
scarcely imagine what marriage truly meant, or what my duties as a husband
would be ... beyond keeping you safe and slaying any dragons that should show
an interest." Melinde smiled as well. "Now I know what marriage truly
means. But since my manhood was taken, it seems the duty of a husband falls
more on you than I, since you have worked so hard to protect me and keep me
whole."
"As
you protect me, my love. Every time you surrender to his will, I live another
day."
Regina
shook her head. "You could have run, my angel, any time since this began.
But you choose to stay. Every day, you save me from the consequences of my own
despair, and I will not forget. My love for you, and yours for me, has given me
time, and a chance to hope."
"And
hope you should, highness," Melinde replied. She leaned closer and
whispered. "I have sent for aid, from an unlikely source, but a
trustworthy one. I did not tell you sooner for fear of raising false hope. But
I have received a response, and if you can but hold until help arrives, we may
yet bring this nightmare to an end."
"Too
late for me, I'm afraid." Regina's smile held a touch of sadness. "As
strong as our love is, I will miss the family we can never have. Always, after
we lay together ... once our passions had been spent, I used to lie there with
you in my arms and imagine the beautiful children we would bring into the world
one day. A daughter and a son for us to love and raise. Happy and strong, and
clever. I could almost see them in my mind's eye. Now, that's all they will
ever be. Just an idle dream." A single tear rolled down her cheek.
Melinde
squeezed her hand. "Now, now, beloved. Brave heart, remember? Let us not
mourn the passing of dreams while the battle still rages, yes? Now the training
starts in earnest, and you must be ready to hold fast to who you truly are,
while letting him think you are defeated."
Regina
nodded and held her face forward so Melinde could fix the makeup on her cheek,
damaged by her tear. As the mid-morning bells began to ring, Mel took her place
beside her princess, and both knelt on the floor and waited for Drax to arrive.
"Hold
fast," Melinde whispered. "Help is on the way."
Then the
door swung open, and Regina's hell began anew.
###
Neville,
Lord Nesbitt, Earl of Durham, Protector of the Crown, and chief military
strategist to the court of King Stephen, sat in the darkest corner of the Jester's
Head pub and did his very best to remain invisible.
It wasn't
easy. He was a large man, dressed in hunter's greens and browns with a tall
staff and a bow and quiver holding up the wall behind him. Neville was not easy
to ignore, but the sword and dagger strapped to his belt clearly told others he
was not to be disturbed lightly. Those who lived in this particular town
learned long ago that the best fences are made with cold steel.
Especially
when that steel hangs from the waist of a man who knows how to use it.
Lord
Nesbitt felt reasonably safe, although he had been a soldier long enough to
know that no one is ever safe behind enemy lines. 'And that's what this inn
has become,' he told himself with a sigh. 'Just another outpost behind
the lines of an enemy -- an enemy too powerful to fight, and too repulsive to
ignore.'
Still,
danger is a relative thing. The people who needed to find him -- the people he
trusted -- knew exactly where he was, and the people he hoped to avoid (and
eventually kill) thought he was hundreds of miles away in another kingdom. As
long as he could keep things relatively quiet, he and the five other nobles who
had managed to slip past Drax's impossible armies could plot to retake the
kingdom, and toss Drax from the highest tower they could find.
Of course,
his troops were outnumbered ten to one, hidden in the north forests awaiting
his commands. And Neville still could not think of a way to get his armies
across the entire kingdom without anyone noticing. Even in groups of two or
three, armed and armored men would certainly be noticed by Drax's patrols, and
how much of his armies would remain intact in time to storm King Stephen's
castle remained to be seen.
Not that he
held out much hope of getting past its walls unscathed. He had helped design
those defenses at Stephen's request, and they were pretty much impregnable.
Drax overcame them through sheer numbers, but Neville could not use the same
tactics, since he had no men to spare.
To have his
own defenses turned against him this way burned in his gut like a blacksmith's
tongs. And his daughter's disappearance at the time of Drax's arrival only fed
the fire more. Neville doted upon her as any father would, and had hoped she
and Reginald would finally have wed as had been planned since their betrothal.
'Months
have passed, and still no word of her,' he thought again. 'Is she safe?
Where could she be?'
"Ooooo,
aren't you a big one!" A soft and decidedly female voice purred in his
ear, as arms wraped around him from behind.
He started
and half turned, but stopped when he felt two large soft breasts pressing down
between his shoulder blades. 'Damn, she's quiet,' he thought, cursing
himself for his preoccupation. 'How in all that's holy did she get so
close?'
"Jumpy,
too," the voice continued, with a bit of a smile in its tone. "You'd
think you'd never been chased by a woman before, and I just can't believe
that's true. Not a handsome gentleman like yourself."
The woman
moved around the table, hips making her long skirt dance, and took the seat in
front of him with a quiet grace. 'She might be a wench,' Neville mused, 'but
she carries herself well.' It seemed as if she was used to having men look
at her, and Neville had to admit that there was much there to admire. She was
big but shapely, with her full bosom and the curve of her hips promising a night
of pleasure in a warm bed. Her long red hair framed a pretty face, and her eyes
seemed filled with laughter, as if she found life itself to be a joyful
experience. As she slid into her chair, she raised her strong chin with a
defiant jerk, as if daring anyone to put out the fire in her heart.
"I'm
sorry, miss," Neville murmured, taking his tankard in hand and raising it
to his lips. "I'm a married man, not looking for a tumble. You should move
on and find another. I'm hardly fit company this evening in any case."
"Oh, I
think you'll be interested in what I'm selling," she whispered, putting
her hand on his. "Like the whereabouts of your lovely daughter, and what's
really going on in King Stephen's castle. And what you might be able to do with
those armies of yours ... the ones freezing in the north woods?"
He froze,
and the woman looked into his eyes. "The price is a few moments of your
time, Lord Nesbitt. I'll even let you keep your dagger and sword, so you can
keep your virtue safe from a wicked wench like me. Now smile and nod, and take
my hand. There's a room upstairs where we can be alone."
Neville
smiled, and nodded, and they both rose together. The locals were surprised that
anyone could get through to the dark hunter who never seemed to leave his table,
but they hoped the redheaded trollop would raise his spirits at least.
Dangerous men wearing scowls and nursing quiet rages often just needed a
woman's touch, or so the common wisdom went. Of course, just getting the fellow
out of the common room was a step in the right direction, and everyone there
breathed a little easier as the two climbed the stairs and disappeared.
There was
already a fire lit in the woman's room, and once they were in, she asked
Neville to lock the door behind him. As he slid the bolt home, he heard a
familiar voice come from behind him.
"Good
to see you again, Uncle." Lord Nesbitt spun around with his dagger drawn
to see the woman remove her long hair and wipe the paint from his lips. Tobias
smiled and dropped the wig upon a small table near the fire. "It's been a
while."
"After
you broke my brother's heart, I never thought you would have the nerve to speak
to me again," Neville hissed, his eyes narrowing. "What's your
business with me, thief?"
"Just
what I told you," Tobias said, meeting his uncle's eyes without fear.
"I've heard from Melinde, and she sends her love."
"And
why should I believe you?" Neville snarled, his dagger still raised.
"Because
I care for her as much as you do, oh 'protector of the crown,'" the Guild
Master replied, ignoring the blade, "and I was worried sick about her
safety, just as you have been, until I heard from her a few weeks back."
Neville's
jaw dropped, but his astonishment quickly turned to rage. "You've known
for weeks that my girl was safe, and you just let me hang? By God, Tobias, I
should --"
"You,"
he said, pointing a finger at the red-faced noble, "should put down that
knife and behave like a gentleman. You have been sitting here for a month in
this godforsaken inn, trying to figure out how to move an army unseen through a
hostile countryside -- and you haven't lifted a finger to find your 'girl.' So
be very careful throwing angry words at the bearer of good tidings, Uncle. Or I
won't tell you anything more ... and you really need to know."
Realizing
the truth behind his words, Neville slowly brought his temper under control and
lowered his dagger. Tobias nodded once, abandoning his perfectly feminine
posture and slumping into a chair against the wall with his legs spread. Lord
Nesbitt watched as Tobias's bosom bounced provocatively, and his confusion
mounted as his nephew saw him watching and threw him a smile.
"I
must admit it worked pretty well," he said, as Neville quickly averted his
eyes. "Although I didn't have a clue what I'd do if you really wanted a
tumble. This disguise only goes so far. And besides, I'm not that kind of
wench."
"What
... how ...?"
"A
thief's success is often a matter of stealth or misdirection, Lord Nesbitt. You
would be surprised what a man can do with sheep's bladders, grain, horsehair,
paints, dyes, and a little attitude." Tobias took a sip from a tankard he
lifted from the floor next to his chair. "Or maybe you wouldn't ... now."
There was a
long silence, and Tobias sighed.
"Melinde
is still inside King Stephen's castle, pretending to be a maid to avoid
discovery by Lord Drax. Since Drax never pays attention to the servants anyway,
she could have hidden there for a thousand years as long as the food remained
good, his clothes stayed clean, and his chamber pots stayed empty.
Unfortunately, she caught Drax's eye for a different reason, and now her life
is in danger every day."
"Why?"
Nevile growled. "Why is she in danger?"
"Because
she is held hostage for the prince's good behavior." Tobias too a deep
breath. "The rumors you must have heard are true. Melinde confirmed them.
Reginald has indeed been transformed into a woman by a band of healers Drax's
emissaries brought back from the East. She is a rare beauty, too, if Melinde's
opinion counts. Drax is trying to break 'Regina's' will and turn her into some
kind of perverse pet, and he's threatening Mel's life every day to force the
former prince to submit." Neville sat up straight and gasped. Tobias
leaned forward. "I've never met the ... 'princess' myself, but I've always
believed anyone's will can be broken if you push hard enough. And it seems to
me that counting on Drax for restraint is never a safe bet. We need to rescue
them both, and soon."
Neville
snorted, and shook his head. "And how do you suggest we do that,
thief?"
"It's
funny you should ask." Tobias smiled. "Since none of us can practice
our art while Drax remains on Stephen's throne, the Thieves Guild has decided
to break with centuries of tradition and help you nobles take back the
kingdom."
"Help?"
Lord Nesbitt snorted, and shook his head. "How could the likes of you help
us?"
"With
information, for example. Thieves see all manner of things they shouldn't, and
learn all sorts of things nobles wish they didn't know. Like the presence of an
uncomfortable number of men-at-arms camping out in the north woods, living on
cold meats and colder ale since they dare not light a fire."
"And
then, of course, you already know what other services we can provide,
milord," Tobias purred in his most feminine voice, before dropping back
down into his normal tones. "You've seen it yourself, tonight. Stealth and
misdirection, Uncle. Thieves are very good at making people not see them at all
... or making them see what we want them to see." He gestured with his
tankard towards the wig. "You saw the hair, the curves, and the attitudes,
and took me for a trollop. But I could easily have been a farmer's wife. A
serving wench. A beggar woman."
Tobias
leaned forward. "Or a maid in Drax's castle."
Neville's
eyes widened,and his nephew nodded. "Women move from town to town
throughout the kingdom, every day. Many with husbands and families, or as
servants for merchants. We can help you put your army wherever you need them to
be, 'protector.' All we need is your hand, and an agreement not to try and hold
any of us once this is over."
"A
tempting offer," Lord Nesbitt conceded. "But why should we trust
you?"
"Because
your choices are limited," the Guild Master shot back. "Because the
enemy of your enemy is your friend. And because trusting us is certainly better
than sitting here day after day waiting for inspiration to crawl out of a
tankard of mead. Especially with Melinde and Regina still in danger."
Tobias rose to his feet. "We lose time every moment we sit here, Uncle.
Join forces with me, and we can take back what is ours ... before there's
nothing left to take."
Lord
Nesbitt thought for a moment, then stood and grasped Tobias's hand.
"Agreed,
nephew. A truce, for now. But if you betray us, you will die by my hand. This I
swear."
Tobias
laughed. "Same old Uncle. Always threatening to kill me."
###
Regina
swallowed with her mouth still full of Drax's pulsing manhood. It was a skill
she had perfected in the weeks since she had awakened ... like this. His juices
slid down her throat, and she shuddered with thinly veiled disgust. Her eyes
were closed, but a single image was never far from her inner sight -- Melinde,
her true love, with a dagger held a hair's breadth from her throat. As Drax's
flesh grew soft at last, she let him slip from between her lips and bowed her
head.
The taste
of him permeated her mouth and clung to the back of her throat, but Regina
remained submissively at his feet. Her knees were protected from the stone
floor only by the many layers of fabric in the pale blue gown she wore, and her
wide hips rested on her heels. Her hands were clasped in front of her. The
golden collar Drax had forced upon her reflected the flickering torchlight, as
well as the fire in her heart. She waited patiently, always, for Melinde's
sake. But deep inside, she held tightly to an anger and hatred that
strengthened her resolve. 'There will come a time,' it whispered. 'There
will come a time.'
Every
night, a new indignity. Every night, another visit from Drax. Every part of her
body violated, over and over again. Made to beg for his touch, for his seed, to
offer herself to him, to spread her legs and plead for him to fill her. And
each time, Melinde's life held forfeit, to ensure that Regina's surrender would
be complete, her humiliation made willingly.
But still,
the voice remained.
'There
will come a time.'
Justice
would come, she knew. Vengeance would come. But until then, the wolf would pace
in silence. To save Melinde, Regina would play the sheep. For now.
Until the
prey forgot the teeth and claws that hid beneath the fleece. And that would be
his first ... and last ... mistake.
"Did
this girl please you, Master?" she said softly, eyes down, waiting for the
affirmation that she had done her duty well, and that Melinde would be
released.
There was a
long pause -- much longer than it had ever been. Then he heard Drax's voice
from above.
"No,
pet. You did not."
Regina
swallowed, and still did not look up. Melinde was still in danger, and Drax was
too erratic for her to take his responses for granted.
"How
did this girl fail you, that she might do better?" she asked, her voice
trembling a little.
"You
do not truly give yourself to me, little one," Drax said, sitting on the
bed beside the kneeling woman and resting his hand upon her head. "You
have not, since your training began. For all the many wonderful things you have
done, for all of the humiliating and degrading pleasures you have provided with
your new body, it is only her life that keeps you there, at my feet. You have
tried to convince me that you are truly mine, but no matter what I have done to
you, part of you still resists me. Without Vincent and his dagger, or your
wench's life perched on a knife's edge, you would still fight. Do you think I
cannot see it?"
Regina
silently cursed her inability to fool the usurper. All of those awful days
bending to Drax's will, for nothing. Still, she stayed silent, and continued to
be passive.
The usurper
begin stroking her head, his rough hands caressing her blonde curls. "She
keeps you from becoming mine, little one. Maybe I should kill her. If you still
obeyed with her body cold before you, I would know you had truly surrendered to
me. As long as she lives, there is doubt."
Regina saw
the threat, and tried to think of a way to counter it. 'Get her off the
field of battle,' her mind whispered. 'Drax can't kill her if he forgets
about her.'
"If
you were to send her away, Master, this girl would still do whatever you
commanded," she said as sweetly as she could.
"No,
pet. Even with her gone, you would still know her life would be forfeit to your
obedience, and that threat would keep you docile. You would still submit, but
you would not surrender." Drax's hand paused for a moment. Regina could
feel him thinking. "I could kill her right now. Then we would know for
sure if you were truly mine." She shivered under his fingers, and he
laughed. "Ah, but I see that would be a waste. You care about this one too
much to ever give yourself to me after that. I would lose you, then, poppet, as
well. All this effort wasted, and you would be dead. By my hand, or by your
own." He stroked her hair once more, and Regina silently hated that she
could not see his face. She heard him sigh.
"I
have taken the wrong course with you from the start. I have never had a threat
so potent to hold over a pet before, and I thought to use her to hasten your
submission. Instead, I gave you a way to submit without surrender -- to play
the noble lord sacrificing for his lady love. I do not make such mistakes
often. But it would be foolish of me to deny when I have erred."
"Fortunately,
I can still have you." Regina felt a chill race through her body, and she
could hear the smile in Drax's voice, along with a touch of sadness.
"There is another way to break you to my will. I had hoped to avoid using
it, because it works too well. It ends the game so quickly. But fair is fair. I
spoiled your training before it truly began, and I know now you will not
surrender to me any other way. A pity."
Drax ran a
finger down Regina's spine, and she shuddered with unwanted pleasure. "You
are so sensitive, pet," he purred. "Good. But you were not always so.
My healers changed you. Their medicines and needles made you ... feel more. And
they can do it again."
He rose to
his feet with a final caress for the kneeling princess, and waved a hand at the
guard. Vincent tossed Melinde away from him, sheathed his dagger, and walked to
the door. As the door swung open, Drax turned and gazed at Regina, head still
bowed.
"If my
every touch can bring you pleasure undreamed of, or cause you unbearable pain,
you will soon be fighting more than my will, little one," he said with a
smile. "You will be fighting your own. And that, sadly, is a battle no one
can win." His voice became almost tender. "You will be mine, pet. And
the game will be over before it had truly begun."
Regina felt
a rush of fear run through her body as the door closed. Melinde ran to her side
and fell to her knees, wrapping her beloved in her arms as tears fell down the
fallen prince's cheeks.
'Another
battle lost before it is fought,' Regina thought bitterly. 'He will turn
me against myself, make me crave him as much as I hate him. And I can do
nothing!'