Lord Drax has a peculiar hobby. He collects kingdoms ... and turns their high-ranking nobles into pretty "pets" for his amusement. Reginald, prince of the realm and heir to the throne, is about to fight the hardest battle of his life ... as a woman. Can she do what she must to win, without losing the man she was?

The Hardest Battle, Part 1
by Randalynn

"The problem with war," Lord Drax declared from his stolen throne, "is that it always ends too soon."

The assembled nobles in the Great Hall nodded their agreement. Imported from Drax's other lands, they all understood the need to agree with their ruler in all things. Those who raised objections raised Drax's wrath, which was not a thing to be taken lightly. The body of this land's fallen king, hanging from the highest beam in the vaulted ceiling, gave mute testimony to the force of Drax's anger. And the fate of the king's son, held in an antechamber and surrounded by Drax's personal guard, was still to be decided.

"Even my conquest of this fair land ended too quickly for my taste," Drax lamented. He took a sip from the goblet of wine in his outstretched hand. "Although I do applaud the valiant efforts of King Stephen to repel my armies from his kingdom, even as I toast his new ... position." He raised his cup to the old king. The nobles laughed, knowing Drax's sense of humor and anticipating the need for a response.

"Still," Drax continued, "I feel the need to struggle against a willful adversary once more. A ... personal conflict. To prove my mettle against a worthy opponent, and claim the rewards of such a victory."

Drax reached out a hand and idly stroked the hair of a young woman curled up at his feet. A thin red-haired beauty with an abundant figure, she wore a simple blue dress with a plunging neckline, which was the style in Drax's court. Around her neck was a golden collar with the Drax coat of arms engraved upon it. She arched her back ever so slightly when Drax touched her, then resumed staring out into the crowd. Almost cat-like, in the manner of a domestic pet. Which, of course, she was.

"Perhaps another mistress for the royal chamber," Drax mused aloud. "To ... ease the burdens of leadership. Yes. " He raised his voice to a bellow. "Send for the court physicians at once! And bring me what is left of King Stephen's dynasty. I wish to decide his fate."

Minions scurried to obey, lest the slightest hint of laziness bring on instant and painful instruction in the fine art of service. In seconds, the door to the antechamber was thrown open. Then two of Drax's guards flew into the room head first to fall in a heap before the throne.

Drax frowned. "Where is the son? Where is Reginald?"

"I am here! " A voice shouted. It came from the dark shape framed in the doorway. "I have no need for an escort. I know the way to my father's throne room by heart. After all, it will be mine someday."

The shape stepped forward into the light, revealing a short, lithe but well-muscled young man with long blonde hair. His green eyes flashed with barely-contained anger.

"Well, if it isn't Drax the demi-god," he said with a grim smile. "I am honored. Who would have thought it would take a 'minor deity' six months to destroy everything it took centuries for my family to build."

"Careful, boy. " Drax leaned back in his captured throne and threw a leg over one of the arms. "You are dancing on thin ice if you think you can cross words with me."

"Come now," Reginald scoffed. "As if I truly have anything left to lose. You've killed my father. You will have to kill me to legitimize your claim to the throne. If I am to die, I would rather it be on my own terms, if you please."

"I DO NOT PLEASE," Drax thundered, throwing his goblet aside and leaping to his feet. "And that is my point. I rule this land now, boy! Your life is mine to do with as I choose. If I say die, you die."

"Yes." The captive royal nodded, arms folded across his chest. "If you say die, I die. But I will die as I have lived, and you cannot change that. I am Reginald, prince of the realm, son of King Stephen and heir to the throne. You cannot take that away from me. So kill me if you wish, but don't expect me to beg for my life. I will not give you the satisfaction."

The court physicians arrived, and Drax smiled when he saw them. He sank back into the throne, resting his hand on the head of the woman at his feet.

"You are Reginald, prince of the realm. That is true," Drax conceded thoughtfully. "However, you don't necessarily have to remain Reginald. Not if I choose to change that."

He turned to the lead healer, Morden. "What do you think, old friend?"

An older man, Morden approached Reginald slowly. The prince stood his ground with a bemused smile as the aging doctor walked around him at a safe distance, performing a detailed examination from afar. The healer turned to Drax.

"I need to see him with his arms away from his body."

Drax looked at the prince. Reginald shook his head. Drax looked at his guards, and they rushed the boy and held his arms out from his sides. Growing a little bolder, Morden came in a little closer. He nodded once or twice, muttering to himself, and reached out to touch the prince's side. Reginald twisted away, but the guards held him fast. Morden felt the boy's ribcage and smiled. He looked up at Drax.

"It can be done, lord," he said. "In fact, it will be easier than most, at least on the outside."

Drax clapped his hands together. "Excellent! See to the preparations at once."

Reginald looked at Morden and laughed. "What is this, Drax? A little game you play with your prisoners? Some exquisite form of torture that gives you pleasure?"

Drax smiled an even bigger smile. "Yes. Exactly. With other benefits you have yet to understand. But you will. You will. And when you do, you will no longer be Reginald, prince of the realm. That I guarantee."

And then he laughed. And kept laughing as the guards dragged Reginald out of the room with the court physicians close behind.

Melinde followed the group from a distance. When Drax's men were within minutes of taking the castle, Reginald had her take on the role of a chambermaid to avoid capture. In her simple dress and sandals, carrying a basket of linens, she blended in with the other servants so well that it was difficult to believe she had been born and raised a noblewoman.

"It was Reginald's wish to protect my life," she thought. "I must do the same for him."

Reginald and Melinde had been betrothed from an early age, but they would have found each other eventually, given time. They were kindred spirits, with a bond between them it seemed no time or distance could break. Love was too weak a word for what the two of them shared. It was as if they were two halves of a single soul -- man and woman as one.

If Reginald suffered, Melinde would be there to help if she could. Or suffer with him, pain for pain. She increased her pace and tried to keep up without calling attention to herself.

By the time Melinde had caught up wth the group, the healers were already busy. They had chosen a guest chamber in the tall tower as their workroom. The room had a bed with heavy iron bedposts, and it took four guards to place it in the center of the chamber. Strong manacles were attached to each post, and the guards held Reginald down while the physicians secured him to the bed. Melinde stood to one side of the doorway, trying to look inconspicuous. She noticed that the interior of each cuff seemed lined with a soft material, and that all of manacles appeared to be self-tightening, so that each of Reginald's limbs were firmly secured, but not scarred or injured in any way.

Two of the healers came in carrying a large case covered with what appeared to be long sewing needles. These men were smaller than Melinde's countrymen, with dark, slanted eyes and precise movements. Another one of the strange ones appeared carrying several jars of a nearly-clear liquid, and then some of Drax's guards came in with an entire trunk full of potions and ointments.

Finally, Morden arrived. Drax came with him, still smiling. His eyes held a strange combination of glee and anticipation, as if he knew what was to come and could hardly wait to begin.

"Has the treatment begun? " he asked impatiently. The slant-eyed ones shook their heads together. Drax fairly beamed. "Excellent! "

He walked over to the bed, where Reginald was still struggling with his chains, and looked down into the prince's angry eyes.

"Shhhh," Drax said softly. "It will do you no good to struggle."

"You'll forgive me if I try anyway," Reginald snarled, pulling with all of his strength. Drax reached out and touched his forehead.

"It's pointless, but you go right ahead," he cooed sweetly. Reginald stopped, and looked at him, confused by his reaction. Drax smiled.

"You don't think this is the first time we've played this little game, do you, my pet? I can't tell you how many men have found their way into those chains. How many brave warriors wound up where you are now, fighting a battle they could not possibly win. "

Melinde watched as one of the slant-eyed ones came up behind Reginald with a dripping needle in his hand. Before she could call out, he began to twirl the needle and slid it slowly into the prince's neck. Reginald seemed to go limp all over, except for his eyes. They began rolling around in his head like small animals seeking escape.

"And the prisoners we brought into Morden's chamber! " Drax went on. "Oh, how they fought against the medicines, and all that was to come. Without even knowing what it was they were afraid of."

Drax began to pet Reginald's hair, and the prince's eyes focused on the usurper with a hatred so potent that Melinde could feel it clear across the room. Drax saw it, too, and just laughed.

"But you know, don't you, my precious," he whispered. "You're a smart one, I can tell. You heard my words, and you saw my pet in the throne room, and you know. " His eyes grew distant as he remembered. "My Brina. My lovely Brina. She fought, too. For a long time. Even after Morden had finished his work, she would not submit. Until we tried something new. And then she was mine."

He looked down at Reginald, still stroking his hair. "She was Brian, lord of Duncaster. A knight. A warrior. Like you were, precious. But now she belongs to me, just as you will."

The prince's eyes began to move from side to side, as if he could avoid Drax's tender gaze and somehow escape his fate. But there was no escape. Reginald was trapped in his own body, and he knew it.

Melinde's heart went out to her love, but she could not stop what was to come. She watched the slant-eyed ones as they began preparing more needles, dipping them in the clear liquid. Other healers cut Reginald's clothes from his body until he lay naked on the bare mattress. They tied down his head and began inserting the needles one at a time into his face, his chest, his arms and legs. Melinde knew her love could feel each one enter, as surely as if she felt the pain herself. Drax stood behind the table, gazing into Reginald's eyes as if he could feed off of the pain he knew was there. Still, he caressed the prince's head as the healers moved from his face down his entire body to the bottom of his feet, murmuring words Melinde was too far away to hear.

As each needle left Reginald's skin, it took a hair with it. Soon the front of the prince's body was nearly hairless, save for the top of his head and the area around his privates. His eyebrows had been shaped into sharp arches. With a word from Morden, the healers removed the manacles and flipped Reginald around until he lay on his stomach. Then they refastened his chains and began anew with his back, buttocks, thighs, and calves, until all of Reginald's body hair was gone.

Drax ran his hands over the naked skin of his adversary.

"So bare," he purred. "Naked you have become. Like a child. And so you shall remain. The herbal mixtures of the Orient removed the hair, and killed the roots, one strand at a time. " His eyes seemed to gaze off into his memory. "It was Morden's idea to send emissaries to the lands far west," he said in a distant tone, "in search of physicians with the skills we lacked. To help me work my will. "

He walked over to the head of the table and looked again into Reginald's eyes. "We didn't stop playing while the emissaries were gone, oh no. You should have seen the many failures, their bodies ravaged by fire or acid, twisted by the mismatched medicines Morden did not truly understand. It took many attempts -- hundreds of 'volunteers' -- before we perfected the treatment. Oh, and the bungling of my surgeons as they 'practiced' ... you should have heard the screams." Drax laid his hand on the prince's cheek. A low growl came from the back of his throat, and the warlord clicked his tongue.

"Now, now, precious," he said. "Soon you shall long for my touch."

The healers covered the captive prince with ointments that smelled strongly of flowers and fruits, and other scents Melinde could not recognize.

"To keep your skin soft and sweet-smelling forever," Drax whispered in Reginald's ear. Another growl was his only answer.

The healers then gathered over Reginald's back, their hands searching for the juncture points between his lower ribs and his spine. They marked each spot with a single dot of red ink, and then stood back as another Oriental healer came forward holding a long needle with a wooden handle and a small hammer.

Inserting the needle at each red dot, he gave its handle a single controlled tap at each of the four places marked, and stepped away. Instantly, other healers stepped in with needles dipped in other mixtures and thrust them into the red areas, while Reginald trembled and moaned from the pain. Then they raised Reginald's body from the bed and wrapped his lower torso in what appeared to be a wide leather band with long laces. Under Drax's instruction, they pulled the belt tighter, and tighter still, until the prince's waist compressed by ten inches or more. During the tightening, Reginald's moans had merged into one long cry pushed deep in the back of his throat by his paralysis. Tears flowed down his cheeks and pooled beneath his head on the mattress.

Once the laces were tied off, Reginald was lowered to the bed. His manacles were removed and he was placed on his back once more. The chains were replaced, and the healer with the needle that caused the paralysis used it once again, so the prince became like a statue, frozen on the bed. Drax bent over Reginald and kissed him softly on the lips.

"I must leave you now, my sweet," he said. "I have an empire to rule. But I will come back soon, and often, to watch you become the woman I wish you to be. " He lowered his voice, and it took on a dark edge. "Reginald, prince of the realm, will die here. In this room. Because I command it. I shall strip you of your name, your sex, your pride, and your will. Because I own you! " Drax smiled, and ran his fingers through the prince's hair. His voice became soft again. "I have even chosen a new name for you. From now on, you shall be known as Regina. A sweet name for a sweet consort."

As Drax turned to leave, he finally caught sight of Melinde standing by the door. As quick as a lizard on a river bank, he shot across the room and grabbed her arm.

"Who are you? " he hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"I . . I am Molly, my lord," Melinde replied, wincing from the pain as his fingers dug into her flesh. "I am one of the chambermaids. I was to make up this room for any of your guests, should they choose to stay in the tower. I did not know that you had taken Prince Reginald here - - - "

Drax's other hand shot up to grab her by the throat, silencing her instantly. He pulled her face to his and spoke very clearly.

"That is my new consort, Regina. Tell the other servants that they will die instantly if they call her by any other name. " Melinde nodded her assent. Drax released her neck, but kept held of her arm. He searched her face for any sign of rebellion, but found none. On the bed, several healers were inserting needles in specific spots on the prince's throat. There appeared to be different kinds of fluids on the tips of different needles, and each insertion was done using color-coded slivers of steel.

"Have you ever served as a lady's maid, Molly? " Drax asked, the beginnings of an idea forming in his mind.

"Yes, sir," Melinde replied, looking down. "Back when the Queen still lived, I was one of those who tended her every day."

"Were you? How interesting. " The warlord looked pensive for a moment, then shook his head quickly and released her arm. "Get on with your work, girl."

"Yes, my lord. " Melinde curtseyed and picked up her basket of linens. "Thank you, my lord. "

As she left, Melinde stole a glance at her love, prone and helpless as more needles were placed around his chest and hips. The healers had inserted a long tube into his mouth, and began to trickle some kind of herbal mixture past his lips. His eyes still moved, and the tears still flowed, but she was powerless to comfort him.

The door closed behind her.

Melinde went back to the head of housekeeping and passed on Drax's message. There was general consternation at this turn of events, since everyone at the palace had loved the young master since he was a child.

"What does he mean, call the master 'Regina'?" Cook looked at Melinde in confusion. "Is he mad?"

Melinde nodded. "Yes, he is. Quite mad. And you should be careful what you say, even here in the kitchen. You could be killed if you are overheard."

"Begging your pardon, mistress," Cook apologized with a curtsey. "I was not thinking right."

"No, you were not," Melinde scolded. "And you aren't now, either. If they see the head cook bending knee to a chambermaid as if she were a lady, they will wonder why."

"Sorry . . . Molly. " Cook lifted a heavy pot from the table and brought it to the stove. "It's hard treating you like one of us."

"Not nearly as hard as it is being one of you. " Melinde stood up and grimaced. She pressed both hands against her lower back. "If I have to lift another basket of laundry for those no-account nobles, my back will snap like a twig."

Maude, the head of household, stepped up to Melinde and wacked the seat of her dress with a wet dishrag. The younger girl yelped, and spun about with one hand on her bottom.

"Careful, girl," Maude cautioned. "You'll serve your betters without sass, and say 'yes, sir' and 'no, ma'am with a smile, or I'll take you out and tan your hide myself behind the outhouse, see if I don't."

Melinde bobbed quickly in place. "Sorry, mistress," she said with a smile. All three laughed, glad of some light spirits in dark times.

"Maude," Melinde said thoughtfully. "If I am to be a chambermaid, can you make the tower part of those rooms for which I am responsible?"

"Aye," Maude replied. "In matters of cleaning and such, my rule is absolute. Even if it is only because his lordship thinks it beneath him."

"He might change his tune once he runs out of clean clothes," Cook threw over her shoulder as she stirred the stew. They all smiled.

"Then do this for me, that I can watch over 'Regina' and do what I can," Melinde asked. Maude took her hands.

"Of course, my lady. You did not even have to ask. We all care for you and the master, and would see the usurper thrown down so's he can rule in his father's name. "

The younger girl nodded, but tears filled her eyes. "Oh, to see what they are doing to him. It's dreadful, Maude. Horrific beyond belief. And he's done it before, to countless others. Stolen their bodies, broken them to his will. I'm so afraid! "

Maude drew her into her arms and hugged her close. "Do not worry, little one. He is strong. The young master will always be the young master. No matter what that demon may do to his body, his soul is truly noble. And you know it to be true. " She patted Melinde's back, and then broke their embrace. "No, no more tears, Molly. You've work to do. In the tall tower."

Melinde dried her eyes and bowed her head. "Yes, mistress."

For all of her diligence, Melinde did not get to enter the tower room again for nearly a month. They were three weeks of endless trips up and down those tower stairs with baskets of clean and dirty laundry; three weeks of sheet changing and chamber pot emptying; three weeks of bending knee to every petty tyrant in the usurper's empire, dodging repeated offers of gold coins for sin-filled nights without offending those who made the offers.

And the worst of it was, she was rebuffed time and again by the guards at Reginald's door. She saw Drax entering and leaving several times each day, and caught glimpses of her love's body still prone on the bed through the open door. But there was never an opportunity for Melinde to gain entrance.

During those three weeks, the people of King Stephen's kingdom were learning the price they had to pay for defeat. Although spread thin, Drax's army was everywhere. What they wanted, they took. And anyone who tried to stop them died. Instantly.

But people kept fighting. And dying. Because they were King Stephen's people. Even though the King's body had been cut down and burned, and his only son had vanished into the depths of the castle, they would not submit to Drax. The seed of rebellion remained buried deep in every subject -- a seed Drax hoped would die a'borning when he introduced his new consort, a willing slave to the new order.

Not that Drax had chosen to create Regina as some kind of political tool. That benefit was just a lucky coincidence. The warlord's hobby drove him to conquest as much as his need for more land, to feed the empire and his own ego. He needed new consorts as he needed new lands, to dominate totally and without mercy.

One morning, Melinde was walking past the room, and stopped short. The pair of guards that usually blocked her way were nowhere to be seen. In fact, the door was slightly ajar. For a brief instant, she thought that Drax had seen through her earlier excuse and set a trap to snare her. But then she shook her head at her own fear. Surely, Molly the chambermaid could be forgiven her share of curiosity, especially about the prince of the realm.

Or what might be left of him.

Melinde tiptoed to the door and pushed it open slowly, an inch at a time. She peered around the edge to find the tower room deserted, save for a lone figure chained to the bed. Quickly, she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her, and ran to the bed to be with her beloved.

Halfway to his side, she froze in horror.

The figure was a woman. Bare naked and unmistakably female.

Where was Reginald? What had Drax done with him? Her thoughts a whirl, Melinde approached the bed slowly, her eyes tracing the form chained to it. She followed the figure's long legs to where they joined her well-rounded hips. Between the legs, at the junction, were a woman's lips, partially obscured by blond hairs but recognizable just the same. Her waist was small, and her stomach was flat and smooth, but her breasts were almost too big for her fragile frame. They sat upon her chest and trembled with each ragged breath she took.

Other than her breasts and hips, the girl seemed pitifully thin, barely skin and bones. As Melinde reached her slender neck, her eye flew to the girl's face. And a chill ran through her entire body.

It was Reginald!

Thinner, smaller, and more fragile, but the face was clearly his . . . hers, now. Her blond hair seemed longer, and fell in gentle curls on either side of the pillow. Her lips were fuller and larger than she remembered, and much redder. Her eyelashes seemed longer somehow, but Melinde could find no trace of cosmetics. She bent down over her fallen prince's face, searching for some sign that her love still existed, somewhere in this pretty shell.

"Beautiful, isn't she? " The voice came from the doorway. Melinde whirled, pale as a ghost, to find Lord Drax leaning against the door. "My healers do excellent work. Aside from the fact that she'll never be able to bear children, Regina is no different from any other woman. Except for the fact that she used to be a man."

Melinde regained her composure and curtseyed, eyes down. "My lord, forgive me. The door was open and I was curious."

Drax waved his hand. "No need for forgiveness, Molly. I wanted you to see this." Melinde looked up, surprised. Drax smiled. "The expression on your face was priceless. Tell me, were you his lover?" She blushed and looked away. "I thought as much. You showed too much concern for your fallen prince. Although I am surprised the man he used to be would choose a chambermaid for a mistress. Even one as lovely as you."

The warlord walked past Melinde to the bed, and gazed lovingly at his captive.

"I have a gift for you, precious," he purred, as he fastened a gold collar around the thin neck of his prisoner. The Drax coat of arms engraved in the metal gleamed in the sunlight from the tower window. "Now you are truly mine."

"Changing his body will not change his mind, milord," Melinde said softly. "He ... she was a man for a long time. She will not yield easily to you, even as a woman."

Drax kept looking down at his Regina, and stroked her hair gently with his hand. "You knew him so well, Molly?"

"Well enough, milord," she replied, eyes still averted.

"I see," Drax murmured. "But you do not know her, do you?"

"Milord?"

"Reginald is dead," he stated flatly. "Morden and his healers eliminated him completely. Regina is what remains chained to this bed. And you do not know Regina at all."

"You have not changed his mind, milord," Melinde insisted, despite her fear.

"Not yet. " Drax bent down to examine the collar on his prize. "But I will. And you will help me."

"Milord? " Despite her earlier words, Melinde felt another chill.

"You will go to the head of household and inform her that you are to be relieved of all other duties. " Drax stood up and looked right at her. "You are to become Regina's maid and dresser. It will be your job to teach her how to be a lady in mind as well as body."

"But sir," Melinde protested, "I do not know how to be a lady. I am only a serving girl."

"You are a woman!" Drax shouted, stepping to her and grabbing her arm. "The one thing you know above all else is how to submit. " He twisted and she fell to her knees, gasping from the pain. "That is what you will teach her."

"Y. . . yes, milord," she whispered, tears flowing from her eyes. Drax released her and walked quickly to the window. While he ignored her, Melinde grabbed the bedpost with her good arm and pulled herself to her feet. Then she scuttled across the floor, retrieved her basket of bedclothes, and stole out the door without looking back.

In his forced sleep, the prince heard none of this. Instead, he dreamed he was chasing a beautiful princess from a foreign land. He finally caught her, only to discover his own face staring back from beneath her veil. Because of the healers' medicines, he could not awaken from this nightmare. Instead, he experienced it again and again in the weeks he had slept.

At times, he thought he could hear Melinde's voice through the haze, and struggled to free himself from his sleeping prison. But his body was not his own, and his fight against the darkness was doomed to failure before it could even begin.

Deep inside, he remembered the things that Drax had said. But it was difficult to think in the endless fog his life had become, and he found what he did remember hard to believe. Eventually, he sank back into dreaming, and found himself chasing that elusive beauty once more.

Later that day, Melinde began her duties as lady's maid to the woman who was once her prince. She moved her straw pallet to the tower room and watched as the slant-eyed healers continued their vigil over the figure in the bed. Periodically, they would consult with each other in some foreign tongue for many minutes. Then one of them would take another needle, dip it in some herbal mixture, and insert it slowly into Reginald's chest or buttock, while others felt various parts of her anatomy. It didn't seem to do anything as far as Melinde could tell, but several times a day the whole group of healers would stand over the bed and nod approvingly. Then the cycle would begin again.

When the healers were not working on her prince's sleeping form, Melinde would bathe the thin, soft body chained to the bed and try to reach her love's soul with her touch. Once an hour, Drax would come in and demand to know how much longer it would be before his consort could be awakened. Always, Morden would calm the warlord and send him on his way with a "soon, my lord Drax, soon."

Eventually, the consultations between healers grew further and further apart. One month after Drax's takeover of the kingdom, King Stephen's sole heir to the throne was about to receive a rude awakening, and begin a whole new life.

Melinde watched as one of the healers removed and packed away the chains that had held the new woman for so many weeks. Another inserted a final needle into the neck of the form on the bed, removed it, and packed the last of the instruments left in the chamber. Drax stood in a corner and watched as the girl began to stir. Her hand reached limply towards her face, but froze when it reached her breasts.

"Oh my God," she breathed in a thin contralto. "He did it!" The other hand came up, and both hands cupped the new flesh she found sitting on her chest. Melinde could see the tears begin to form in the corner of her lover's eyes, and rushed to the bed before they could fall.

"Don't cry, milady," she whispered, taking the girl's hand. "Lord Drax is here."

Regina looked into her face, and Melinde caught the flash of recognition in those impossible green eyes. As she began to speak, the would-be maid gave her hand a squeeze and spoke quickly.

"It's Molly," she said. "You remember? I was lady's maid to the Queen. And to you, now, I suppose." She winked and twitched a corner of her mouth

The new woman looked back at her lover, on the verge of crying again. Melinde mouthed the words "brave heart, my love," and smiled. Regina felt her spirits rise, and let a small smile reach her lips.

"Oh come now, Molly," she admonished playfully. "You know you mean more to me than your prior service to my mother. I would have thought our time together was far more memorable than that." Regina tried to prop herself up on her elbows, but could barely raise her head. After a struggle, she suceeded, and was rewarded with a good view of what her body had become.

"And though it may appear that I might need a lady's maid," she continued, keeping her new voice steady despite an overwhelming urge to scream, "that is not in fact the case, since I am not a lady."

Drax stepped out of the corner.

"I have made you a woman, Regina," he said softly. "It is only a matter of time before I make a lady out of you as well."

Melinde helped Regina to sit up on the edge of the bed. She felt the flesh on her chest bounce and shift with each movement, and balanced precariously on her now-too-wide hips. As her hairless legs came together, she felt the absence of her manhood and shuddered involuntarily. Melinde squeezed her arm, and Regina put her hand on Melinde's in response. Just knowing she was here was enough to keep the sense of loss under control.

For now.

"You will be hard pressed to make a lady of me, usurper. " Regina spoke with a confidence she did not feel. "Do what you like to this shell I wear. You cannot change the man within."

"Brave words," Drax sneered, "and I've heard words like them from more women in your position than I would care to remember. This isn't the first time I've done this."

"So you've said," she replied. "But this is the first time you've done this with me. And I will not make it easy for you."

"Still just words, my dear. " Drax watched with a smile as Regina put one arm around Melinde and tried to get her feet on the floor. Her buttocks slipped off the edge of the bed, and Melinde held her as the captive prince felt her thin legs tremble under her slight weight. "You speak as if you have a choice. You don't. You are weak. And you will be mine."

"No," she said bravely. "I won't."

Drax felt his patience slipping, and his anger began to rise.

"You are mine, bitch! " he snarled, "and I will prove it. " The warlord took two steps across the chamber and kicked Melinde's legs out from under her. She folded with a scream of pain, leaving Regina balancing unsteadily like a new filly taking its first steps. Drax reached down and grabbed Melinde by her hair. Pulling her to her knees, the usurper pulled a dagger from his belt and held it beneath her chin.

"You are weak and sentimental, Regina," Drax whispered, "just like the woman you've become. And you still have feelings for this trollop, even though you have no way to act upon them any longer. " He reached out with one arm and squeezed one of Regina's breasts. The pain brought tears to her eyes and forced her to her knees. Drax nodded approvingly.

"Now you see the limitations of the body I gave you," he said. "But the true path to your subjugation begins with your mind . . . your sense of honor."

Regina looked up at him, tears on her cheeks, and he put the knife up against Melinde's neck.

"You will pleasure me," he said simply, "or I will kill your wench and rape you anyway. Either way, you lose. But if you take me in your mouth and please me now, the woman you care about will live . . . until you anger me again."

Regina looked into Melinde's face, but found nothing there but fear. What should she do? Sacrifice the woman she loved, or submit to the warlord's will? She felt torn and confused. What had been a personal battle had become tainted by innocent blood. How could one win against a foe with no honor?

Drax smiled at her hesitation.

"You are quite right to be torn," he whispered. "For to agree is to admit defeat. And you must submit, or lose your only friend to my steel. " Drax pressed the edge of the knife into his hostage's throat. A thin line of blood trickled down beneath the blade. Drax saw the fear in Regina's eyes, and knew that he had won.

"Eyes down, bitch! " he roared. His prisoner looked down quickly. Drax's voice became softer, almost mocking in its tenderness. "That's a good girl. Just remember your place, and you will be rewarded. Now, what is your name?"

She looked down at her changed form, breasts heaving as she fought back tears. "Regina, my lord," she whispered.

"I cannot hear you, bitch! " Drax shouted, pulling Melinde to her feet with the knife still firmly in place. "What is your name?"

"Regina, my lord," the fallen prince replied, totally ashamed of her surrender.

"Guard! " The warlord bellowed. Instantly a soldier appeared at the door, his sword drawn. Drax threw Melinde across the room into his arms.

"This whore here is going to show me how grateful she is to be my slave," he said. "If she does not obey me fully or please me in every way I wish, you will kill her ... friend instantly. Is that understood?"

The guard nodded, and pulled the sobbing Melinde into a corner, his sword drawn. Drax sheathed his knife and walked over to Regina's kneeling form. Grabbing her by her golden collar, he walked her over to the bed where she had lain helpless for so long. Helpless still, she kept her eyes down, unable to face what lay ahead.

After Drax left, Regina curled up into a ball on the floor of her chamber, and burst into tears.. She was still naked, her face and breasts dripping with Drax's juices. She could smell him on her with every breath she took. She could even taste him when she closed her mouth. She felt unspeakably dirty, as if she could never get clean again.

She felt a touch upon her back and shied away from the hand, but it stayed with her as she moved.

"Sshhh," said Melinde, stroking her back gently. The guard had released her and followed Drax out, locking the door behind them both. "It is all right, my love. Drax is gone."

"All right? How can it ever be all right again?" Regina spoke through her tears, her body wracked by sobs she could not control. "Did you see what I did? Did you see? I can still feel his organ at the back of my throat, rubbing and spurting. And I can hear his laughter still, as I kneeled at his feet with his ... his ... in my mouth and his hands on the back of my head, pushing. And then he made me ... thank him! I ... I don't think I can ... " She curled tighter, trying to escape inside herself.

Melinde wrapped her arms around her love, trying to comfort her with her touch. But Regina could not feel anything but shame.

"You did it all to save me, my love," Melinde whispered softly. "He would have had me killed in an instant if you had not done as he commanded. There is no need to be ashamed. You were so brave. I will always love you for what you have done. Always."

Melinde continued to hold and caress her fallen lover. Slowly, Regina's tired muscles began to relax, and her tears began to dry. But it was no real improvement. Regina pushed her arms aside and turned to face her friend. Melinde searched her eyes and found them empty. And scared.

"What am I? " Regina asked. Her voice was cold and emotionless. "What have I become? I am not Reginald. Not anymore. This afternoon's . . . demonstration made that painfully clear." Her voice began to quiver slightly. "Reginald, prince of the realm, would have died before submitting to that. I gave in so quickly, you would think I'd been waiting all my life for the chance to pleasure that ... that butcher. No willpower. No spine."

She laughed. It was a pitifully small sound, and Melinde thought she could hear Regina's heart start breaking. "Now I'm just . . . Regina. Drax's pet. A plaything for my father's murderer. Weak. Frail. A pale, hairless, frightened shadow of what I once was." She reached down and cupped her breasts, holding them out to Melinde as if they were a gift. "Look at me, Mel. All breasts and hips and hair and legs. And nothing between my legs but a woman's promise. Drax's revenge. " Regina let go of her chest and covered her eyes. She started crying again. "I'm nothing, now. Just a . . . a mockery of a woman! And a weak one at that."

Melinde watched as her prince collapsed in a river of tears. She felt powerless. How could she reach past what her love had become to touch the man beneath the pretty mask?

Without thinking, she pulled Regina's hands from her face, pulled her close, and kissed her with every ounce of passion she could summon from her small frame. She felt her breasts brushing against her companion's, but sent her mind back to a summer day not long ago, when the two of them lay under a spreading oak in the forest near the castle, exploring each other's mouths and bodies between words of love ... and the times they shared when words were not needed.

At first, her prince resisted, but Mel's passion soon warmed the fire that still burned for her in Regina's heart. She began to return the love Mel gave her, and her hands roved to caress the body she remembered so well. Melinde held Regina's head in her hands, her mouth moving hungrily as her own need began to overcome the changes she felt in her lover's form. She embraced the woman her lover had become, running her hands and mouth over the soft nakedness. Mel's mouth found Regina's breasts, and she sucked and bit with a savagery born of unbridled lust, wanting only to pleasure the man trapped within.

Regina's new body responded with an intensity that shocked her out of her self-pity, ripping through her frame with waves of pleasure she had never known as a man. She shuddered and moaned from the force of it, feeling a warmth spread through her lower body that grew with each touch of Melinde's lips against her nipples. She clutched at her soulmate, pulling her closer.

Melinde realized that she had taken Regina farther than she had wanted, and backed away from her chest. Regina took several deep breaths, shuddering with each intake, and Mel took her hands and waited patiently. Finally, the prince gave Melinde a cock-eyed smile and squeezed her hands in return.

"Thank you," she said, looking down. "There was part of me that feared losing you. I thought ... this ... had changed what we have between us." Regina smiled. "I'd forgotten just how strong our love is."

"I hadn't forgotten," Mel replied with a smile, leaning forward to kiss her on the nose. "Everything you did to save my life was proof of it. You are still my soulmate and always will be. Always remember ... no matter what form you wear, we are still one ... inside."

"But because we are one, I have put you in danger. Drax will hold your life at knifepoint to ensure my ... cooperation. And if I fight, I am powerless to protect you for long, as I am." Regina looked down at her thin arms. "I doubt I could even pick up a sword, much less wield one in single combat. The only weapon I have is surrender -- and if I surrender too often, the man you loved will disappear forever."

Melinde's smile grew, and she gave Regina a quick hug. "Oh, you silly thing! You haven't been a woman long enough to know it, but you have far more weapons at your command than you think. The ones every woman is born with, and the ones you learn about as you grow older. I will teach you, if you will have me as your teacher."

"I will have you in whatever way you wish, my love," Regina smiled back, and kissed her gently on the cheek. "But now I think I need a teacher more than anything."

"What you need first," Mel said decisively, "is a bath. To wash that bastard's insult from your skin, and from your heart. " She walked over to the door and opened it. The guard turned, surprised.

"Go and tell the kitchen we need hot water . . . lots of it. And a tub large enough for the lady Regina to bathe in. " The guard stood there for a moment in disbelief. Melinde put her hands on her hips and leaned forward until her face was inches from his. "Are you deaf? Or would you like to see what happens to someone who lets Lord Drax's pet go uncared for? " She watched as his face went pale, then white, and then he was gone. Regina laughed, and Mel turned, surprised.

"You are good," Regina declared. "It is nice to know my teacher is experienced at manipulating men."

"I'm not worried," Melinde said warmly. "I'm sure you'll pick it up as you go along."

"I have had more time to judge the warlord than you," Melinde commented as she soaped Regina's hair. "He thinks more of himself than any man I have ever met, including you."

"Thank you. " Regina smiled, her eyes closed against the stinging foam. "I think. Do all men think too much of themselves? "

"No," Melinde replied, and dumped a pail of water over Regina's head. "Your opinion of yourself was always justified. You really were as good as you thought you were. But Drax isn't. We can use that to our advantage."

Regina pushed wet hair from in front of her face. "How?"

"By making him think you are beaten when you really are not."

"Do you think he can be fooled so easily?"

"I did not say it would be easy," Melinde said, her tone brisk. "I just think it can be done. But to do it, you will have to learn the first lesson in how women get along in a world where men set the rules. " She handed Regina a wash cloth and let her sponge away the sweat and stickiness between her breasts. 'You have to learn to hide your true feelings."

"I have to learn to lie? " The wash cloth disappeared under the water and found its way between Regina's legs. She shivered involuntarily as it caressed the place her organ used to be, followed by a sharp spike of pleasure. "Oh! "

"What?"

"Mmmmm . . " Regina moaned, rubbing some more. Annoyed, Mel poured another bucket of water on Regina's head, and she let go of the cloth.

"Stop that," Mel spoke sternly. Regina looked up at her, ashamed.

"I'm sorry, love," she whispered. "I just didn't know it . . . I could feel anything like that. Not after . . . after what they did."

"Drax may be counting on that pleasure to enslave you," Melinde said, "as he did Lord Brian. You must pay attention to what I'm telling you. Who knows when Drax will return? "

Regina looked down, and Mel instantly softened. She took Regina's chin and tilted her head up to look in her eyes. "Do not feel too badly, my love. It is only that this may be the last private time we get before the next time you need to act. And acting is what it will be."

"I don't think I can -- "

"You must! Think of it as a feint on a field of battle. Would you let your enemy know your true strength, or intentions? " Regina shook her head. "If Drax truly believes you are broken and defeated, then in his mind, you will cease to become a threat. At that instant, you will be in control. For Drax will have underestimated his opponent, and in battle, that is defeat."

"You seem to know much about the art of war," Regina said tentatively. "For a woman, I mean. " Mel laughed.

"I am my father's only child," she replied. "He knew that if I was to command my father's guards one day as their lady, I needed to know how it is done. So I was taught. But my mother taught me as much about conquering men as my father taught me of the battlefield."

"So I remember. " Regina smiled. "As one of your conquests, allow me to compliment you … and your mother."

Melinde helped the still-weakened Regina from the tub and dried her with soft towels. She dressed her beloved in a heavy nightgown, then wrapped her in blankets against the night's approaching chill.

"You must pick the times to fight and the times to yield, just like any woman," Mel said simply. "In battle, if the enemy is not where you want him to be, you place your men where he must redeploy his forces to engage. You lure him into putting his forces where you have the advantage." Regina nodded. Melinde smiled. "The same strategy applies between men and women. Only the battlefield has changed. You must create the impression that you are losing ground to Drax's superior power, and make him believe that Reginald is Regina, his pet, lover, and mistress."

"That will be a simple matter," Regina said, looking down at her hands. "As long as he holds your life in his hands, I am powerless."

"No," Melinde snapped, taking Regina by the chin and raising her face to look into her eyes. "You are NOT powerless, because you see the field as it is, not as you wish it to be. He thinks you have no will to resist, because of your love for me. If you let him keep thinking that, you will surely lead him down the path to his own destruction -- but only if you hold fast to your own inner strength, and the love we share."

She turned and handed Regina a cup of broth. "First we must build up your strength. Drink. " Regina's hand shook from the effort of holding the cup.

"I'm as weak as a kitten," she said softly, amazed.

"You haven't eaten anything solid for over a month," Melinde replied, helping her take a sip. "God knows how they kept you alive, but you've easily lost half your weight since they brought you in here. It will take us a while to build you up again."

"You think I can someday be restored? " Regina's eyes lit up with hope. Melinde took the cup away from her, took her hand, and then took the hope away.

"No," she whispered, and watched her lover's despair grow again. "I'm sorry, my love, but you will never regain what you once were. You have changed . . . too much. " Melinde squeezed her hand. "But we can make you a strong woman, instead of the frail beauty Drax would chain to his throne. And your skills with arms and armies, with blade and bow, still remain, although trapped in your weakened form. With time, you will once again become a formidable foe for the usurper. If your will is strong."

"And afterward? " Regina's voice trembled slightly. "Once I defeat Drax, what is left? What will happen to me then?"

"One victory at a time, beloved," Melinde replied gently, moving the cup to Regina's lips once more. "This 'battle of the sexes' will be a long campaign, not to be won in a single skirmish. And the first battlefield is within you. You must learn that a lion's heart still beats inside that pale shell, and that courage, strength, and honor are not the sole province of men."

Regina looked over the rim of the cup into the eyes of the woman she loved. Melinde had slaved for weeks to watch over her, and even now played a dangerous game to restore her to her throne and bring Drax to his knees.

"Then the first lesson is already learned," Regina whispered, and took the cup of broth in her frail hand. "For one look at you and what you have done, and who could doubt your courage, your strength ... or your love? " Melinde blushed and look down modestly. Regina raised the cup slightly, her arm trembling.

"Confusion to our enemies, dearest," she said with a smile, and drank deep. Her betrothed took back the cup and raised it towards her love.

"And strength to our cause," Melinde replied, and took a sip herself. She smiled, then shook her head. "But how foolish! This broth belongs in you, and not in me. We need to restore your strength, my ... milady. " Regina's eyes widened, but the cup at her lips stifled her shocked reply even as she felt Melinde's warmth, and love. Her mouth relaxed into a smile, and after she had finished the broth, Regina felt herself drifting off into sleep, feeling vaguely hopeful.

The fight to retake her kingdom, and her life, had begun.