Princess of The Elves Ch. 01

Note: Thank you for coming back with me into this world. It's hard to stay away. All of the characters in this story are over the age of eighteen. The elves even more so. It does not represent any real people or groups. It is literally a fantasy. There are elves. The story does contain a magical transformation. Please read the story tags. Though if you read Captured by The Elves you kind of know what to expect. That being said, you do not have to have read Captured by The Elves in order to read this story. Just know that in this fantasy world, there is a variety of elf different from the others and that they are more than they appear to be. Please look at the story tags. If you don't like those things then you really should move on. Any errors or omissions are my own. Enjoy.

I wanted the sounds of the surf coming in to be soothing. It was satisfying in an odd way to watch the waves building up so far away and then to break several yards out from the beach. Sometimes the water receded much farther than normal. I foolishly hoped that maybe it would retreat all the way to the horizon and beyond, and then I could slowly walk home. That didn't happen. The water came back stronger than before. Lapping away at the shore and at my hopes.

I didn't want to do anything. However, the drying salt water and sand had worked their way into my clothes. My skin was raw and getting worse. My balls felt like they were burning. My long blonde hair was a chaotic wreck and filthy. If I didn't get off the beach, I knew that I never would. For some reason I was reminded of home. Not the weather. This was a strangely sweltering place compared to my northern kingdom. Even the water was warmer than I expected.

I'd been hiding partially under the wreck of our lifeboat. When I crawled out, I was greeted by the scalding sun. I'd already been terribly burned and hiding under the broken boat had been an act of desperation. I began sweating even more immediately. I thought about all the people who claimed that the north was too cold. Gods, I missed it. If I'd been cold at home I could've sat down by a fire and drank two horns of mead. Maybe even have one of the serving girls comfort me in my bed. They never refused their prince's wants. Even if I was fourth born.

All those comforts were hundred of miles away now. Or farther. While our people were known as great navigators it wasn't a talent that I possessed.

I surveyed the area around me. The other survivors had declared it an island before they'd left me on the beach. I needed to remember their faces. I would be filing a grievance once someone with some authority arrived. Abandoning a prince to die on this hopeless rock was a crime and they needed to be punished. I had not decided on the punishment yet. I knew there were books of law to consider. I'd seen my father sentence men to death when I was young. Eventually he'd given the job to my eldest brother as a learning experience. More and more of those "kingly" things were now done by my brother. He was slowly becoming a king. They'd never be done by me.

No.

I got sent off on foolish errands to be a witness to trade agreements. Not even as a negotiator or advisor. I was just there to be a prop. A member of the royal family who could press the royal seal and say that yes it did happen. When I had protested this, and demanded a greater role they asked me what experience I had. How was I to gain experience without being allowed to do things? They didn't bother to answer my question.

"That's how it is," they said.

They would've berated me more, but I was still a prince, and there remained even the slightest possibility that I could come into power one day.

Standing there on the beach with sand drying on my balls, I didn't feel very powerful at all. I longed for someone else there to make decisions. I had more freedom than I ever had, and I wanted none of it.

Who would?

Alma would, I thought. Of course, she would. Some of the ideas she had were downright revolutionary. Not that I would report her to my father's secret police. She had some rather delicate features to her, and she didn't mind sharing those with me. Even if she was a little too presumptuous about the two of us being married. I mean: she was noble, of course, but not exactly up to the standards that my mother demanded. Not that such a thing stopped me from sampling the goods. Alma had been more than willing to share those secrets with me for years. Fortunately, no accidents occurred, and even if they did, well, a prince's bastard was an adequate prize for a noble woman.

Gods, I wished that she was there. She would know how to cheer me up. She'd been in one of the other boats with her brother Colin. Oh, if only I'd been able to get into their boat. Even facing my doom would've been enjoyable. I thought back to one of the last conversations we had.

We had pulled in to a small part south of Peltest. The captain had been a cautious fellow, and even though we'd been filled with provisions at Peltest, he was wary of bad weather. Alma had knocked on the door to my cabin. Our accommodations had to be separate naturally. My parents had spies everywhere. Alma had taken to wearing fewer layers than she normally did because of the warmer weather. I rather enjoyed that. When I opened my door to greet her, I immediately beheld her large breasts were half uncovered, and I could see they were still sweating beneath their silk. She'd combed out her dark hair, and somehow, even though we'd been cooped up on a ship, she still smelled like the most darling of flowers.

First, she addressed me as "my prince," and then when she made sure that there was no one watching us, she said, "Sindri, you must be feeling lonely by now. Shall I entertain you?"

I had to take a breath. Gods, I'd wanted her so bad then. There is nothing so satisfying as when a woman comes to you to be pleased. Yet there was a complication.

"Not right now," I said. "I think that I drank too much again. As usual." I laughed. "Let me sleep it off, and I'll happily take you up on your offer."

Alma tried to push her way in, but I held the door open at just a crack.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "I know you want me."

"Yes, my love. Of course, I do. It's just...you know. This whole thing. My father. This ridiculous journey of ours. Just down is all. But I'll be fine later. I promise." I leaned forward for a kiss, and she indulged me like she always did.

"Don't take too long," she said. "I've heard that good stout sailors are quite good at pleasing a lady. And their tattoos are so...interesting."

"I'm sure," I said. "Not many kings among the sailors though."

Alma gently touched my cheek, and then brushed one my blonde locks out of my eyes. "Sweet Sindri," she said, "I do love you, but you're not a king. Not yet. I love you still though. Sleep well."

Alma turned around and made her way back to her own cabin. She walked in just the right way to shake her ass at me. She knew what she was doing. It could've been a dangerous thing to do on a ship full of sailors, but even when trying to show off, Alma still carried her knife on her belt. A large knife that was custom made by her family's smith. Alma knew how to use it as well. She liked to entice me, but I knew very well that I always needed to ask permission.

I closed the door, and regretted the choice that I had made, though I really had no choice at that time.

"Did she finally leave?" asked Colin. He got out of the bed to retrieve another horn of wine. The light from the oil lamp danced on his nude body, and I could still see traces of my seed and his all over him. "You should've just invited her in. My sweet sister knows what I'm about. I could take a break and enjoy some more of this wine. You could indulge yourself with her assets. I won't get jealous."

"Don't be so loud."

"Why do you worry so much, Sindri? You're the prince. You can do anything."

"I wish that was true," I admitted. "I just know that this whole stupid journey is a waste of time. I'm being spied on. If they report anything else scandalous about me then I could be sent off the join the clergy."

Colin was more than a little drunk and laughed at the whole idea. He said, "Just think of all the innocent, young monks you could have your way with. Perhaps I shall join you."

"I'm being serious, Colin."

"So am I." He poured himself another horn of wine, and then offered me one. "You always worry too much. Why don't you just put a baby in my sister's belly? Make a big show about how you want to do the right thing and marry her. Meanwhile, I will make a holy vow to watch over my sister and to make sure that you live up to your obligations. Your father will give you a nice country estate and we can retire there in peace and comfort. All three of us. I assure you that Alma will agree to this if you just ask."

Colin used his pearl-handled stiletto to skewer a piece of salami and a pickle off the tray of food we'd been sharing. Like Alma's knife this was a custom and expensive thing. Though Colin was more apt to use his blade for eating rather than fighting.

"Everything is going to be well," said Colin.

I wanted to believe in Colin. He paid much more attention to his tutors than I did mine. Colin had begun offering me his special indulgences around the same time that his sister did. I was so certain that Alma knew the whole time, but she never said anything. I assumed she was just letting the prince have his way. Women could be so perplexing. The day ended with some awkwardness as usual, but all of us were drinking too much during our miserable voyage and pretending that it was all a dream.

It wasn't.

I cursed loud and long there on the beach. The loudest that I had ever spoken. There was no one to hear it. None of it mattered.

My throat was raw and parched from the lack of water. My pale skin had burned under the gaze of the brutal unrelenting sun. I hurt all over. I wanted to give up. Longing for a flagon of wine and then just to die. Yet I wasn't destined for such a fate. I had no idea what the Goddess of Fortune had in store for me.

I walked around in my once proud rags. They hung off my body in an obscene way because of the weight that I'd lost. We'd been months at sea, so even though our captain had fully stocked the ship when we'd docked at Peltest, it wasn't enough. That had been a painful stop for me. Once, Peltest had been a place of hope. While I was a fourth born son there was still some chance that I could get married to some younger green-eyed, red-headed princess for political gain. Even if she was down the line of inheritance, it would be so worth it. Peltest had proven to be incompetent in war, but they were great an making desirable princesses. But no such luck for me.

As I moved farther down the beach, I saw one of the bodies still being tossed around in the surf. It was the old man or so I thought. His body was bloated now, but he was still feathered with arrows. He'd been on our ship. Killed by the pirates when they came to harry us. My companions and I had taken up clubs and cutlasses. I belted on my sword--given to me by my mother. We were ready. But the pirates didn't commit to boarding us. They'd attack from distance and then moved away. They kept doing this. At the time, I considered them to be cowards and was disappointed that we didn't get to fight up close. We didn't have any suspicions until the choices made by our captain lead us into still waters.

We'd been stuck there for weeks it seemed. Slowly running out of food and water. The pirates returned with the storm following them. Attacking us more and then moving off. The rest was a blur because of the dehydration and starvation. I remembered a desperate attempt to get into the small boats once our ship began to take on water. Panic. Anger. Despair. I forgot how many boats managed to put out. I only knew that I didn't fit in the boat with my friends from home. My entourage. I'd been left to cling for life with the local servants and common sailors. A farce for a prince to endure.

And that was how I got to the beach. My parents would consider it shameful and embarrassing. Our people were natural and capable warriors and masters of the seas. We had saved Peltest and the other southern kingdoms from their failed war. I could already imagine my parents saying that my older brothers would've taken command of the stricken ship and slain the pirate captain himself in single combat. My brother Ragnar would likely crown himself King of the Sea after defeating the pirates. A hero through and through. Gods help me.

There were other bodies out there in the surf too bloated for me to even recognize. The pirates...the storm...we had no chance.

Well, I couldn't change any of what happened. I could only control what I did. I walked down to where the waves were breaking--doing my best to keep my distance from the bodies, and plunged into the water to cool off. It helped a little, but the water was still so oddly warm for me. Some of the sand did wash off though, and that was worth it. When I walked back to the edge of the beach, I stopped and took off my ruined silk shirt to ring the water from it. I also took off my gold necklace to make sure it wasn't ruined. I washed the filth from it, and pulled out several hairs, but it was still fine. The necklace was ornamented with a small golden axe head. A symbol of one of our northern gods. A necklace like mine was the style of many young and wealthy men from my country. It made me sad to look at it. Knowing how far I was from home, and that I'd likely have to sell it to some peasant to buy food.

I huffed, and put those thoughts out of my mind. I put my shirt back on, which felt quite nice damp. It wouldn't last though. The first thing I had to do was find some people to help me.

I saw movement up toward the island proper. I decided that no matter how I felt about these people that had abandoned a prince, I was going to need them to survive. If things didn't get too bad, I even considered being generous with them in the end. I was willing to be more benevolent than my brother. I started running towards where the movement had been. Finally, I came upon a group of six men from my boat. When they noticed me approaching, they looked confused.

One of the sailors said, "What the Hell are you doing here? You're still alive?"

I was convinced that the man had gone soft from drinking salt water. I ignored him. "Why wouldn't I be?" I said. "We need to find some water, and then we'll focus on food. We cannot be far from the trade routes. We can build a signal fire."

I was doing what my father always wanted me to do: acting like proper ruler. I had to project confidence even if I didn't have it at the time. I could already envision this whole sordid affair becoming a daring adventure story that would increase my anemic reputation. I'd finally be viewed as a real man.

"Are you daft?" asked another man. "We're running for our lives, you fool."

I looked at him like an idiot for a time. I said, "Wasn't this a deserted island?"

An arrow whizzed by my head and took the first sailor in the throat. He collapsed onto the ground in a wet gurgle. The others took off running and I followed.

I ran until my legs burned and my chest hurt. I'd been quite robust once. Not one of the giant warriors that my country was known for, but I could hold my own on a march. Starvation at sea had withered me though. The sailors finally took shelter behind a rocking outcropping, and I struggled to join them there.

"Who's attacking us?" I demanded.

"Shut up," said one man. "They'll hear us."

"Some kind of Alfar," said a man.

Alfar...simply called "elves" by the southerners. Our people knew of them of course. In some regions our local lords even traded with them. But I'd never heard of them being this far south. And not out by the sea. Not near the southerners. The dark-skinned peoples of the southern empires were very known to us. The purpose of my missions had been to rendezvous with a trade delegation and affix my family's seal to a document. In the olden days we would've fought and raided such people. But in the modern day it was trade agreements that were the new glorious victory. And they were far less risky.

"Why would elves attack?" I asked them. "Did you fools attack them first?"

"You may have a noble name and royal blood, but you are a fool," said an old sailor. He went on: "There are stories told in the far-flung parts of the world. Vicious elves who attack men on sight. Most are killed, but the truly unfortunate ones are captured by the elves. Those poor bastards wish they were dead. That much is known. The captives are never seen again."

The other men nodded.

"That sounds ridiculous," I said. "The elves are an old and weary people. Too bogged down by their councils and long memories to do anything bold. Even in the war they barely acted."

That was true. The other human kingdoms had only secured a lukewarm alliance with the fey folk. I remembered my father bragging that when our people intervened in the war the elves that were present surrendered to us as a precaution even though we ended up being on the same side against the Easterlings.

"You don't know this part of the world," said the old sailor.

"I don't believe in dragons either," I said. "At least not in the modern day."

I had to make that allowance. Part of my family's claim to royalty was that a famous scion of our house had slain a king among the dragons and received a high lordship, which eventually became a crown. In private, the family debated whether it had ever happened. They certainly didn't mind the claim to fame, but in an age where reason and education reigned, they couldn't help but to question it.

"Believe what you will," said the old sailor. "This is what we face. Your royal blood won't help you here. You're just a man now. Like the rest of us."

I tried to ignore his insult. Back home, I could have a man flogged for saying such a thing, but here I had to ignore it. For now.

I had a long memory.

We knew that couldn't stay there. If those hunting us knew their lands, they would know we were there. We were not even that far from the beach. The horizon surrounding most of us was the everlasting blue of the ocean, and in the middle: the mysterious center of the island. We were their quarry and we were vulnerable.

I decided to do my part to help everyone. I said, "Perhaps, if we were to run in all directions. Only one arrow came that last time. Maybe there are not that many archers. At least one of us is bound to make it, and that man can...get help."

It sounded even stupider as the words left my lips. The sailors knew it as well. However, no one else had any ideas. This was base survival, and as such it was quick, dirty, and desperate. Later in my life I would consort with people who tried to live their lives to the fullest that way. Were they fools? Well, that was hard to say.

There was a silent agreement amongst us. We knew that we only had so much strength left before our withered bodies gave up on us. At least, I thought, we hadn't resorted to cannibalism. That had been such a fear of mine when I'd first heard stories of sailors. My older brothers and my father's sworn shields had laughed at my concerns.

"Our people are sailors of renown," they said. "Only milk-drinking land lubbers succumb to eating their fellows. Likely, those men were more useful roasted anyway."

It was madness, but I smiled. Perhaps I would not dishonor myself after all.

It was time.

We were all tensed up--readied ourselves. I heard one sailor quickly pray. We all looked at each other. Then it happened. In my head I said "Now," but no word came. We all bolted up-right and ran, but I only did so for a few yards and then wheeled back to hide behind the rocks again. I heard the arrows whizzing, strange whistles and cat calls. Men screaming. I heard them cursing me as a "craven bastard." I didn't like doing it, but something in my head told me to wait. I was different that those men after all. The son of a king.