Fallen Princess, Risen Queen Finale

Lanatheya approached a pair of Emerald Guards who stood next to a small door inset into the larger. One of the guards locked eyes with her, then pounded once on the door. The smaller door opened outward, and she crouched to enter.

The throne room was nearly empty. Lanatheya had never seen it this way. An Emerald guard stood at the door, pulling it shut and locking it. He did not look toward the throne and the queen, but instead stared at the door inches from his face.

Lanatheya hurried, her footsteps echoing across the glossy marble of the white and gold room. There was a large dais at the back of which was Queen Anadariel, who sat perfectly upright in a resplendent white gown, her tall gold crown rest so lightly upon her alabaster brow it seemed nearly to hover over her blonde hair.

An unexpected thought struck her -- the queen's gown seemed to draw attention to her large bust, something that Lanatheya had always been jealous of. The thought startled the healing mage, and she shoved it away quickly to take note of the other figure in the room.

At the front of the dais was, from behind, a disheveled elf nobleman who sat crumpled on the floor. He stared at the ground as he rocked himself back and forth.

Lanatheya stood next to him and bowed. "My queen, I-"

The other elf moaned loudly next to her, then babbled something incoherent. At least, mostly incoherent. She made out the words "cock" and "slut" which caused a blush to spread across her cheeks.

"The ambassador is unwell," the Queen pronounced from her throne. "When I realized how unwell, I ordered the throne room emptied and sealed, until you could help."

Lanatheya took a good look at the ambassador -- it was Vanadur! She furrowed her brow, and crouched next to him, to take in the full horror. A piece of metal was attached to his face, across his eyes. It was likely that he was completely blind. She brushed his face with the lightest touch. "Vanadur?"

Vanadur lifted his head with a cry. "The Queen! Message!" He shuddered. "Princess, message, message!"

The Queen furrowed her brow. "Vanadur? Can you speak?"

"Queen, must... message," his lips quivered. "Need... need it, in me, I'm a-"

"Vanadur!" the Queen interrupted him. He lifted his head in her direction. "What is the message?"

Vanadur gasped and reached out blindly. Lenatheya wrapped an arm under his shoulders and helped him stand. He took a shaky step forward, and Lenatheya let him go, so that he could deliver his message.

Vanadur opened his mouth to speak but uttered no words. She saw it. A black roiling greasy smoke poured from his lips. Some part of her heard something like words -- something she didn't understand -- but this was no message. The curse slithered out of him and along the ground, headed toward the throne.

Lenatheya looked up at the Queen, confident in the expectation that whatever her Highness cast to rebuke this filth would be legendary. The Queen furrowed her brow in confusion at Vanadur's words, as a tentacle snapped out from the smoke and latched onto the throne. The smoke shot up along the tendril, then the throne, then slid along the Queen's legs.

Vanadur collapsed onto Lenatheya, who caught him in her arms. She lowered him quickly to the ground and whipped her head up to prepare magic to dispel whatever --

It was gone.

The Queen sat on her throne, alone. Though, to Lenatheya, her entire countenance had changed.

"My Queen," the healer started.

The Queen let out a shaky breath. "Take him to the infirmary. He has delivered his message, he must now be healed."

"My Queen, I believe that his message --"

"Do you know the ancient words?" The Queen shifted in her seat. Her hands rubbed her thighs.

Lenatheya blinked. Ancient elven? But why would that matter? She didn't hear any words. "No, my Queen, I-"

"Then his words weren't meant for you, do you understand?"

"Yes, my Queen." Lenatheya tried a different tact. "Are you... feeling well my Queen?"

"Vanadur needs your aid, not I," the Queen retorted, though Lenatheya could plainly see the sweat that had beaded on her brow. The Queen rubbed her thighs together as she shifted in her seat. "Please, take him away immediately. He must be seen to be whole -- even if he cannot see, he must appear as he left. I will reopen the Throne Room shortly."

The healer reached down, helped Vanadur to his feet, and slowly took him to the door.

"Guards!" The Queen called. "Take the ambassador to the infirmary!"

The Emerald Guard opened the door and let out a sharp whistle. A guard on the other side came through, took Vanadur through the small door, then lifted the smaller elf into his arms.

When they were outside of the Throne Room, Lenatheya directed the guard. "Take him to western wing of the infirmary, near the Courtyard, I will meet you there shortly." Lenatheya needed a book, ensconced in the deepest levels of the Arcane Library.

The events of the Throne Room played again and again in her mind. Why didn't the Queen see it? How could something so obviously magical happen and the Queen, one of the more powerful mages on the island, had missed it?

What was the Queen's power? Even the thought was blasphemy. The Queen of Melmandor was always a powerful mage, capable of feats of incredible prowess. In fact, part of the coronation ceremony involved such a display.

Lenatheya tried to put it out of her mind, to focus on the task at hand. Finding a rare book such was this was difficult. Maybe a brief scry-

No. She should not scry Queen Andariel of Melmandor, wife of the legendarily ill-tempered Tiertalan. Especially as the Queen, being the mage she was, would immediately recognize both that it was done, and who had done it.

Unless she wasn't. Or unless her powers were compromised. Lenatheya glanced around the empty library, then scurried away to a private room with a rune circle. There were many such rooms in the Arcane Library, designed to allow low-risk magic use, such as scrying. Usually, it was used to scry for a particular book, but in this case, Lenatheya had two targets in mind.

The first was, yes, the book. Healing Profane Corruption, by Archmage Nyrikalon the Mad. An extremely unusual book, by an extremely unusual mage. That one would wait though.

The healer tried to calm her mind. Scrying wasn't the kind of magic that could end disastrously, but any magic was inherently dangerous to a mind too distracted. She focused on the magical ethers, drew them into herself, formed them, then channeled them into the runes at her feet. Part of her began to panic, which caused a warbling in the spell. Nothing too severe, she pulled the etheric strands, smoothed it out, and cast out toward the Queen.

The Throne Room came into the vision of her mind's eye. It was still empty, pristine marble reflected a bright golden shine. Mists parted, her vision cleared, the Queen came into focus.

Lenatheya was shocked. The Queen's dress had been torn, revealing one of her large breasts. Her spread legs revealed a drenched pussy that had soaked through her torn dress, as her fingers plunged deep into herself. The warble returned violently, spasming the scry spell. The spell twisted, and flooded Lenatheya's mind with sensation. She could feel the Queen's arousal, her desire. She could feel the Queen as she twisted her nipple and rubbed her clit with her thumb.

The healer quickly hiked up her robe with a moan, before she fell back onto her ass. She spread her legs and ripped her soaked panties off. She plunged her fingers into her quivering sex as she felt the Queen do the same.

A guttural moan echoed throughout the hall, Lenatheya was unsure from who, her or the queen, but she clearly heard the queen's voice after. "Antariel!"

Lenatheya gasped and rolled over on the bed. She sat up, naked, and stared at the naked buxom Queen playing with herself at the head of the bed. The Queen spread her legs out, and gestured Lenatheya closer. The healer crawled along the silk sheets toward the Queen's delicious sex.

Something was wrong. She kissed along the Queen's thigh, licked and nibbled the alabaster flesh along the way. She pushed her tongue into the Queen's pussy, as her lover gushed cum onto her face. This wasn't right. The scent was though, and it filled her nose with the aroma of the Queen in heat.

A figure got onto the bed behind her, Lenatheya could feel the weight shift around, as legs slid along her legs. Someone had just straddled her.

"Isn't this just the most delightful dream?" The Queen moaned.

A thick cock stretched Lenatheya's pussy lips open. She screamed in pleasure as she was spread open by the figure. She'd never felt anything like that in her life. Her entire body shuddered in pleasure and left her at the brink of orgasm.

She wanted more. She wanted more of that cock, in more places. She wanted to taste it. She wanted to drink it. She'd never considered anywhere else, but if it was shoved hard into her ass, she'd beg to be fucked until she was unconscious.

"Yes," the figure whispered into Lenatheya's ear. A small part of Lenatheya's fading sanity snapped to attention. The voice -- it was Antariel's. "Isn't it... just a lovely dream?"

Lenatheya's mind screamed.

The scry shattered.

She gasped, inhaled the musty air of the Arcane Library as deeply as she could, and tried to steady her pounding heart. She looked around the dark room. She was naked, covered in sweat and cum, splayed out in the center of the runic circle.

She sat up as her chest heaved with each gasping breath.

That was no dream. That was supposed to be a scry, but someone had taken over the scry. That wasn't just power, that was power beyond anything Lenatheya had encountered before. Whatever had happened to Vanadur, she was going to have to heal him quickly. She needed to heal the Queen next.

Lenatheya walked toward the infirmary as she read the book. The book described using magic in a way that wasn't terribly familiar to the healer. She needed elven healing magic yes, but she needed to incorporate the woodsy magic more familiar to their eastern sylvan kin. A strange technique, but one that did make sense. The book though had an ominous warning -- such magic should not be used except under extreme circumstances. She tried to figure out what the consequences were, or the explanation for the warning, but unfortunately, like most authors with the epithet "The Mad," Archmage Nyrakilon's writing skills left something to be desired.

As she entered the infirmary, she noticed the smell before she heard the sounds, and heard the sounds before she looked up and saw Vanadur getting fucked on both ends. The Emerald Guards had stripped their armor, and one had a firm grip on Vanadur's ears as he fucked his mouth as hard as he could. The other gripped Vanadur's ass as he hunched over the elf, pushing his cock as deep into the noble as he could.

The healer should've shouted immediately, should've rushed them and stopped them. But something rattled her mind, and the scry-dream came back to her. She squeezed a breast as she rubbed her thighs together, desperate to satisfy the intense arousal that flooded her.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were moaning and the slapping of flesh, until Lenatheya's gaze drifted to the Elder Tree. It was visible from this wing, which is why she preferred to treat patients in it.

The Elder Tree. A comfort to any mage. Many believe it powered the wards that protected Eltanor and was the source of all Elven magic. It alone was powerful enough...

Lenatheya snapped out of it, straightened her clothing, and shouted at the guards. Startled, they backed up from Vanadur.

"He... but he-" one guard said.

"I'm a cock slut!" Vanadur moaned, "Please, I need it, I need cock!"

"Leave!" Lenatheya shouted. One guard started to dress, but she pointed at the door. "Now!"

The guards grabbed their armor and fled out of the infirmary.

Lenatheya walked up to Vanadur who moaned, "Please..."

"Vanadur, I'm not going to heal you like I normally would have," Lenatheya sighed. "I can't help you alone. I don't think I have what it takes. But I have a plan. It's kind of crazy, and it might... it might kill us both. But if it doesn't, it will heal you. Body and mind."

She let out a shaky breath and added more to herself than to him, "And then I can get some answers."

Nehtarizi woke with a languid stretch, and a wolfish smile. Once a place of fear, she now enjoyed the Dream. She looked around and didn't see the twins, so assumed they must have been off preparing a meal or something.

"Tari!" came her Master's voice from what sounded like the edge of the tower. He didn't sound pleased.

She didn't bother with clothing, as she had gotten used to wearing very little, and soon she approached her Master at the edge of the tower. He stared up at the night sky. The Profane Tower had returned to the perpetual night of the cold north.

"Tell me Tari, have you ever researched star sign?"

Nehtarizi stood next to him and looked up at the sky. She saw the night sky, the twinkling stars, and all was clear except for a massive green cloud. It was kind of oddly shaped.

"I have... heard of them. They're portents, right? When something especially notable is about to happen, they can appear?"

"Yes," Kariz replied in an icy tone. "For instance, when I invaded Eltanor, a star sign appeared. It was the size of my palm. I took it as a good omen, a sign for my impending victory. Of course, I was victorious, in the beginning." He paused a moment and held up his hand. "But not ultimately."

The cloud was not just bigger than his palm -- it consumed most of the night sky.

Kariz slowly turned to Nehtarizi, who turned to him. "My Whore, what did you do?"

"I... Nothing of note, Master, I was in the Dream, and-"

"I'm not talking about just now," he grabbed her arm, and hauled her over to the long table. The table was covered with maps, reports, stratagems, all revolving around the imminent invasion of Eltanor. "The plan! You were supposed to allow us to bypass the wards." He pointed at the star sign behind them. "That is not caused by the fall of Eltanor!"

Nehtarizi turned to the table and tried to crush the panic that rose up in her rapid breaths. She closed her eyes, breathed in and out, then stared down at the map. "The plan was simple -- return Vanadur to the time when I was taken and swap their Vanadur for our new one. The new one would have a relic of disdust and orichalcum, inscribed with the runes of consumption and covered in our cum, inside of him. Anyone who tried to heal him would allow us to break through-"

Kariz narrowed his eyes. "I know the plan Tari, what went wrong? Our forces are preparing to invade right now -- should we withdraw them?"

Nehtarizi stared at the map. Lenatheya was the court healer. She was the one that the Bitch would use to heal Vanadur. She liked Lenatheya, and she actually felt bad that healer was going to be killed in the process. After all, there was no way she could survive all of her etheric energy being sucked into a vortex.

But maybe she went too far? She fucked her in the Dream, yes, but -- wait. She had invaded her mother's dreams. That meant Lenatheya was scrying her mother. But from where? Oh, of course, the Library. She'd noticed her mother's behavior, and she scryed her from the Arcane Library. That makes sense, since she'd want to do some research to cure Vanadur.

Did she discover what Nehtarizi was trying to do? But how? If only she could scry the elf -- but the ether that suffused the Profane Tower actually made that more difficult than Nehtarizi expected. It's why she began to explore using the Dream to reach out to the Queen in the first place.

"What are you thinking?" Kariz asked. His tone had softened, actually. He trusted her to figure it out.

"Lenatheya is the court healer. She'll want to do everything she can to heal Vanadur and restore his sight. She's not strong enough to actually do it, but she'd try. But that's according to the plan. It shouldn't change what happens."

"And what do you know of this healer?"

She bit her lip in thought. "She's... kind. She's one of the kindest people in the Court. She's a good healer, strong-willed."

"Stronger than us?" he raised an eyebrow.

She laughed, "No." She caught his expression and controlled herself. "No, Master. But stronger than my... than the Queen is right now, certainly. But the Queen wouldn't care about Vanadur's health, she'd just want to make sure he looked right."

"There must be something. What else do you know about this healer?"

Nehtarizi blew out a breath in frustration. He was right, of course, there had to be something! "I'm unsure. She enjoys nature? Not as much as our eastern kin, but that's why I knew targeting the Queen would work. Lenatheya will figure out that she needs to mix in the woodsy ether. I mean she doesn't know as much of the magic, but she loves nature so much, she even prefers..." Realization crashed onto Nehtarizi.

"What?"

"She prefers the eastern wing -- or, no, the western -- anyway it doesn't matter, the one that can see the Elder Tree!" Nehtarizi burst out in laughter. "Oh, my dear sweet cousin!"

She laughed again.

Kariz narrowed his eyes.

Lenatheya propped Vanadur up against the base of the Elder Tree. Its massive trunk was the width of a half-dozen men lying down. It soared into the sky far above the palace, which had indeed been built around it. It was the source of the prestige of Melmandor, really. But none of that mattered to Lenatheya just now. What concerned her most was that the Elder Tree could be coaxed into infusing its magic into Vanadur. If she could control it, this would undoubtedly heal him.

"She's going to try to heal him with the Elder Tree!"

"How will that stop us?"

Lenatheya began to draw the ether from the massive life that towered above them. She carefully formed it into a healing spell, an incredibly potent one. It was just as the book described, a blend of woodsy magic and elven. She channeled it into Vanadur.

He gasped and sat bolt upright, as the magic infused his being.

"Stop us, Master?" Another laugh. "Oh no. No, no, no Master. It will not go as she plans. The star sign is a tree... splintered."

A bright ball of energy burst into existence in Vanadur's lower torso, just under his stomach. Ether exploded out of the Elder Tree, and then into his body, as though sucked down into a vortex of energy. Lenatheya screamed, and desperately tried to maintain control.

It was like trying to grab a wet rope that was attached to the end of a ship pulling out of port. No amount of strength, none of her power, could even slow it.

Vanadur's body began to twist and expand. He was drawn up by the energy, and into the bark of the tree. The healer desperately, flutily, grabbed at his ankle. She could no more pull him back than she could stop the flow of ether.

His body expanded further, unable to contain the massive pool of energy expanding out from inside him. He mouth stretched open as his jaw sank down into his neck. His arms tore themselves apart, reforming into the tree as some kind of frame. He was transforming into a portal.

And then she saw it. Some kind of stone, at the center of him, glowed white hot with magic runes. It was Profane.

The Tree was taking the Profane into itself. But it couldn't, could it? It would purge it, right?