A Perfect Elven Princess Pt 02

Erulia stood back from the lacquered timber armoire with a steaming cup in hand as a worried expression marred her otherwise arresting face.

She had slept surprisingly well and awakened in her faithful handmaiden's warm embrace as they snuggled together in dawn's forgiving light after the disturbing events of the night before. Breakfast had already been laid out on a side table; ripe seasonal fruits, fresh baked bread, purest honey and churned butter with a piping hot pot of the herbal brew scenting the room with the aromas of morning.

That was well and good but whomever had provided the enticing repast had also absconded with her clothing from the day before. There was probably a sub-clause in the diabolically complex betrothal agreement about her wearing the fine whispersilk dress from home.

Erulia really needed to read more of that dense tome of contract law to better comprehend her strange circumstances but that would have to wait...

Because Queen Annarosa wouldn't.

"Any better wardrobe choices in your quarters?" She called out to Idril as she plucked at the draping sleeve of a cerulean blue gown. The fabric was wonderfully smooth to the touch but the gossamer skirts were nearly transparent.

Far too daring for an elf of her station and position.

"Not really." Her friend called back through the connecting doorway. "I've found something really nice in jade silk but the small corset top is a no... just, no."

"We don't have time for this. Her Majesty expects us to attend her shortly and I suspect she is neither the patient nor forgiving sort."

There had been a note delivered with breakfast, written in a curling cursive hand, courteously inviting the elven Princess and her companion to join the Sorcerous Queen in her atelier by the third bell, followed by some poorly veiled threats outlining the strict ramifications of failing to do so.

The woman was going to be a nightmare to deal with, though after what they overheard last night...

"Fine, how about this one?" Idril asked, trudging back into the room holding up a strapless, backless soiree dress weaved out of intricate lace. It was the color of burnt umber and sized for clingy. "At least it will cover my most delicate parts."

Even as she spoke, Erulia couldn't miss the way her friend's bright hazel eyes kept flickering to the portraits of Prince Seberin covering every available inch of wall space around the airy apartment.

She couldn't even find it in herself to reprimand Idril, there was something powerfully attractive about the painted likenesses and she had often found herself doing the same throughout the morning. Just kind of... spacing out and being soothed by the distant roar of the castle wards as she fell into those piercing amber orbs and big strong muscles.

"That looks like a good choice." She said in a weak attempt at moral support. "I think it will make your eyes pop."

"Just so long as nothing else pops out, if you catch my meaning."

The platinum-haired Princess wasn't sure why Idril was so worried. She wasn't the one about to spend the day being grilled alive by the unhinged Regent of Bathard. But at the same time, the outfit she had chosen would undoubtedly capture the attention of any red-blooded male who saw her.

And by all reports, there was only one such male in the palace.

A slip of the flavorsome tea helped calm her rattled nerves and she turned back to her own questionable fashion options with new, mildly competitive, resolve.

"Okay, help me into..." She reached into the wardrobe and withdrew a particularly revealing garment that had initially offended her prim and proper high elf sensibilities "...this one. Hurry now, we can't keep her royal Majesty waiting."

Erulia didn't miss the slightly sour expression that flashed over the beautiful wood elf's face at her scandalous selection.

"Are you sure, Princess?"

"I am certain. Now perform your duty, handmaiden, and assist me in dressing."

________________

"Where are you taking us again?" Erulia asked, tugging self-consciously at the front of her skirts as she tried to keep up with the briskly striding maidservant. "The Queen's receiving rooms?"

"Her Majesty's atelier. The locus of her magical power and innermost sanctum. You are privileged to be amongst the rarefied few to be allowed entry to her most private chambers."

The pretty young serving woman leading them didn't look back or slow her trotting pace as she spoke in a cool, neutral tone. Like all the palace staff Erulia had encountered thus far; this fiery redhead represented an impressive combination of full curves, sculpted limbs, dazzling features and--in this particular case--was spectacularly pregnant.

The girl's hugely swollen belly pushed out the front of her frilly black and white uniform as though she had swallowed a winter melon. Her big milky tits jiggled atop the prominent baby-bump, barely restrained within a swooping neckline which dipped so low that a deep enough breath would cause an embarrassing incident.

Not that Erulia was really in a position to throw stones concerning tastes in fashion. She was already beginning to regret her hasty choice of courtly garb.

The elegant sapphire gown she was wearing wrapped her lithe figure tightly with layered skirts that swept down at the back to tickle her ankles but were cut high at the front, meager inches below her narrow hips, exposing most of her sleek ivory legs.

She had thought the matching silk stockings would provide additional coverage but the gauzy bands and garters connected just short of the ruffled hemline, drawing even more attention to the slim gap at the topmost terminus of her bare thighs. At least it distracted from all the perky young Princess's décolletage--humble though it was--on display due to the plunging nature of the exposing ensemble.

"Atelier... Do you mean her sorcerous workshop?" Idril inquired, as they turned down another grand hallway that was near identical to the last three they had traveled.

The castle interior was larger than it seemed from outside appearances. A sprawling labyrinth of corridors and rooms, lavishly decorated to showcase the wealth and might of the human kingdom, and its royal family especially.

Hunting trophies of fantastical beasts were mounted upon the cold marble walls alongside captured war banners, tournament prizes and, of course, the multitude of framed canvases featuring one or both of the two current rulers of the human kingdom. One of the receiving halls they had passed contained a full adult chimera--preserved through some miracle of taxidermy--suspended by chains from the ceiling with its giant bat wings spread as though frozen in mid flight.

...and under each exhibit was a small brass plate denoting the heroic manner in which they were won. Unsurprisingly, Seberin De La Sol's name was featured with unerring regularity.

"You will understand when you arrive." Was the gravid maid's only response.

"Will the Prince be there too?" Idril pressed a little too eagerly. "We are ultimately here to meet with him after all."

She sounded a bit breathless but that might have been because the snug fit of her barely-there lace dress constricted her usual stride to small half-steps, taking two for every one of their own. The absurdly tall drakeskin fuck-me boots she was teetering about in probably didn't help either.

Erulia moved far more comfortably in her slingback pumps sparkling with azure crystals to match the color of her indiscreet gown. The stiletto heels were only three inches long, easily manageable with her high elven grace and dexterity.

"The Crown Prince--may his glorious Majesty rule for a thousand years--will be preoccupied with taking audiences today." The pregnant redhead replied, warmth entering her neutral tone at the mention of Prince Seberin as her small hand drifted down to rub her massively swollen stomach. "We will be passing that way shortly but cannot dally. Her Highness does not tolerate tardiness."

No sooner had she said it, then they were entering a busy grand foyer with vaulted stone ceilings and varnished timber benches lining the walls on either side of a pair of elaborately carved double doors.

Four of the statuesque Amazonian royal guards barred the entryway with spears and bucklers at the ready. Their brief studded leather corsets and segmented skirts left a gratuitous abundance of full, pushed-up cleavage and muscular legs out on show.

The bustle of supplicants waiting to be announced were almost entirely female. Gorgeous young women of every variety sporting their finest--if somewhat undersized--attire with a few pallid sallow-faced men scattered amongst their tittering numbers.

Erulia spotted a powerfully built orcish shield maiden dressed in fur loincloth and a chainmail bikini top that struggled to contain her enormous green endowments looking coyly down at her nervously twiddling thumbs as she waited to be summoned.

A trio of lilac-skinned drow femme fatales whispered conspiratorially together in one corner, blushing and giggling like naughty damsels. Their deadly honed bodies criss-crossed in the thin strips of black leather they regarded as armor and braided onyx hair falling to the small of their trim backs.

The buxom serving girl didn't waste time in guiding the pair of rubbernecking elves through the press, stepping around an eager-eyed group of young noblewomen in extravagantly brief evening wear, when the giant double door rumbled open just wide enough for two dazzling examples of human beauty to stagger out.

They were both tall, vivacious blondes who looked so alike they might have been twins. Their frippy little summer dresses were badly rumpled and their shining golden hair was in a frightful state of disarray. One fussed absently with a broken shoulder strap as they leaned heavily on each other for support and fanned their beaming faces with flapping hands.

"Thank you, Highness!" They sing-songed over their shoulders, stumbling a little on bowed legs. "May your glorious Majesty rule for a thousand years!"

Erulia frowned as she noticed the wet sheen coating both pairs of flashing thighs before she was whisked away down yet another corridor.

"Next!" A guardswoman shouted behind her retreating back.

________________

"You are on time, good. I have always believed that punctuality is the politeness of princesses." Queen Annarosa commented dryly. "And I will not suffer a laggard for a daughter-in-law."

After an interminable and confusing journey through the twisting palace halls, Erulia and Idril had been led to an unassuming wooden door at the bottom of a short flight of stone stairs. Behind it they had discovered a large, open studio filled with an alarming clutter of arcane paraphernalia and the Queen Regent standing before an artist's easel in the center of it all.

"Your Majesty?" Erulia inquired. The air in the room was saturated with enough auras and enchantments to make her feel lightheaded. "We have come as instructed."

"Another point in your favor, girl. A good daughter and wife should strive to be obedient whenever possible. It is a sign of courtesy and respect."

The snippy Queen Annarosa was the picture of regal poise and bearing, if not exactly dressed like it.

A sleeping robe of the darkest chiffon hung open off her shoulders, so wispy and transparent as to hide little beneath. Sheer embroidered mesh lingerie in midnight black hugged and entwined her mature voluptuous figure in a spiderweb of ebony strings and fine silver chains. A scalloped demi bra lifted and enhanced her ripe motherly bosom while a tiny lace g-string rode high over her full hips before disappearing into the deep crevice of her peachy round rump.

"I agree that courtesy and respect make strong foundations for any relationship." Erulia hedged diplomatically, shuffling further into the room with her autumn-haired guardian in tow. "Is this your private workshop, Highness?"

The room wasn't small but felt... busy. Two of the bare stone walls were lined with ancient oak shelves stuffed full of magic tomes and grimoires secured in place by iron bars locked across their dusty spines.

Several scarred wooden workbenches were covered in parchment scrolls, pots of spell ink, mystical implements, animal bones and glowing gemstones, while complex alchemical glassware hissed and bubbled away on others. An actual honest-to-goodness cauldron sat neglected in an inset fireplace and everything was lit under the bright unwavering light of everburning lamps suspended from the ceiling above.

In the middle of it all the Sorceress Queen stood side on to the gawping elves with a brush and mixing board in hand, daubing paint onto a large canvas with a fixed expression of concentration.

"This is my Atelier, girl." She snapped in reply, never once looking away from her art to acknowledge their presence. "Workshop... bah! They call me the Blood Rose of Bathard, does that sound like the moniker of a common tradesperson to you?"

Erulia could hear Idril's breath quickening from a step behind her. No doubt the string of petty barbs and crushing magical presence was getting to the overprotective elf. So she spoke quickly to stave off a rash rejoinder from her friend.

"I meant no offense, Majesty." The Princess said calmly, "I was simply awed by the impressive level of arcane study and comprehension the contents of this...

Atelier

implies. "

There, a perfect example of grace under pressure. Grinding magical pressure that grated against her innate resistance like a millstone.

The Queen glanced away from her painting to arch a speculative brow at Erulia then jabbed her brush towards a small covered table, neatly laid out like an oasis of order amongst the chaotic hubbub. There were two padded stools set beside it.

"Sit. There. Both of you. We will continue our interview as I...

create."

Moving gingerly through the crowded space and trying not to touch anything, they took a seat and waited expectantly for the furiously painting Sorceress to speak.

Erulia spared a quick glance for Idril, the beguiling wood elf looking stunned. Out of sorts. Blushing and not meeting her crystalline gaze as she squirmed fitfully on her perch. From their new perspective, they could both see all of the ageless matron in her full glory and the bedroom sounds of the night before came rushing back in cheek-burning clarity.

The imposing enchantress howling in sinful ecstasy as her hung human lover pinned her to the bed and pummeled her luscious ass...

That same ass that rolled enticingly as she sauntered over to a benchtop and plucked a pinch of sparkling pigment out of a clay jar to sprinkle over the smeared paints on her mixing tray.

"Are you content with your accommodations, do you lack for anything?" Queen Annarosa asked, returning to the portrait to continue her work. "Speak, child. I would not have it said later that our Bathardian hospitality was found wanting."

"Yes--I mean no. Ummm..."

Which question did the woman want answered? The lightheadedness was interfering with Erulia's usually agile wits.

And what was the Sorceress painting? She couldn't get a clear sight line on the easel from where she was seated.

The gorgeous Queen scowled, pausing to flick her free-flowing raven hair over a shoulder as she turned on the two elves with a stern expression.

"Perhaps it is better for you to be seen and not heard." She scoffed, looking imperiously down her upturned nose. "I can deduce from your attire that you found the wardrobe without assistance at least. Small wonder. Have you been drinking the herbal tonic as instructed?"

"Y--yes."

"Good, it has given you a healthy glow to those skinny cheeks." Her Majesty said, sounding slightly mollified. "Let us pursue that line of questioning since you appear amenable to the subject."

Which line of questioning? Erulia looked to her handmaiden for some much needed clarity in her discourse with the razor-tongued mad woman. Idril was blinking owlishly and looking about the worksh--

Atelier

as though lost. She had a warm glow on her cheeks too.

"The subject, Highness?" She hastily asked before the unhinged Blood Rose of Bathard could go off on another rant. "Do you mean the tea?"

"The reason behind the tea, girl. Have you forgotten?" Queen Annarosa asked, giving her a critical once over with her smoky eyes. "It is to prepare you for receiving my perfect son's blessed seed."

"The Prince's seed?" Idril babbled, finally lending her voice to the uncomfortable proceedings.

She sounded half-asleep. Dreamy. The Queen shot her a minute smirk before returning to the canvas and adding a few more dabs of the now glittery paint.

"You elven women are like song birds, delicate and pretty to look upon. That is well enough but I have any number of song birds at my beck and call already. My greater interest lies in the futherence of the royal line. For that I need brood hens."

Birds... hens? What in the nine hells was this lunatic talking about?

"My apologies--"

"Children. Heirs. Your ability to carry healthy children for my sweet Seberin." The Queen elucidated, almost attacking the portrait with her brush in a feverish fit of ardor. "My boy is immensely strong and endowed with more than kingly riches. You elvish maidens may be gifted with wisdom, magical talents and long lives but are slight in build. Frail. My future daughters-in-law must be robust, fruitful, capable of enduring his mighty passions!"

Goodness, Erulia was suddenly feeling warm at all this talk of the handsome Prince and his... fecundity. Hot even. Beside her, Idril was beginning to visibly sweat and rock in place on her stool.

The wave-like crashing of the castle wards was almost audible here, deep in the heart of the Sorceress's power and the high elf could feel her resistance being tested. She straightened her back and shook her head in an attempt to clear it.

"The existence of half-elves is a long established fact..." She began in a small voice that quavered more than she wished but the Queen was still gathering a head of steam.

"Mongrel trash too rarely birthed from low-born adventurers and street whores. I speak of royalty, girl." The raving Regent seized the easel in white-knuckled hands and dragged it around to face them. "Look upon his glory and tell me, in truth, that you would not be split in twain upon my brilliant boy's supreme member!"

Idril gasped but Erulia could only gape at the big reveal. The colors glimmered like iridescent oil in wet swirls and lines forming a heart-stopping whole that was greater than the sum of its mesmeric parts.

An image of the Crown Prince Seberin was displayed in naked glory before their watering eyes, slung sideways across a golden throne with his stunningly gorgeous mother standing proudly beside him and an audience of ravishing, lingerie-clad beauties kneeling with demurely bowed heads surrounding the raised dais.

Every ridge and indent of his bronzed physique was presented in fantastic detail. A rich mane of chocolate hair fell over shoulders broad enough to hold up the heavens. His arms and legs were thick as stocky tree limbs, and the striated muscles of his ripped torso were stacked atop each like slabs of rough hewn granite.

But the point where her crystalline stare fixated was on the massive, ferociously male protuberance extending from the Prince's bare lap.

"You see now? Bear witness to the foremost man to have ever existed in the history of this kingdom or any other!" Queen Annarosa proclaimed, spittle punctuating every zealous word. "Magnificent falls short of describing his utter excellence. My beloved son is the paragon of masculine perfection made flesh!"

Erulia was busy staring at that flesh.