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.
