With Regina trapped in Drax's iron fist and her own life in danger, Melinde sends out a call for help to a most unlikely source. The entire kingdom learns of Regina's trials with surprising results, and unlikely alliances are formed.

The Hardest Battle, Part 2
by Randalynn

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!'

'How can I defeat myself ... and Drax?'

'And how can I save Melinde?'