Crys Duskchaser, Head of the Guard for the Winter Court, liked to eat her lunch on the crenelations of the Southeast Tower of the Outer Wall. Modest vittles for a light repast: hard bread, cold cheese, and olives from the jar. The view from this particular point on the wall let her see past the gatehouse and far down the only road, all the way to the small town that serviced the castle’s needs. Nestled between a copse of conifers on one side and the rolling hills on the other, its liveliness was starkly contrasted by the painting-like stillness of the landscape around it. But she wasn’t there for the visuals, nor for the fact that when she spat the pits of her olives, they arced satisfyingly like miniature trebuchet rounds. She was there for the wind.

There was a breach in the wall beneath her, just too high to be worth addressing immediately by the renovation efforts yet still large enough to be concerning should they become besieged. What caused it was a mystery. Lava rope, failed sapper explosion, a structural defect enhanced by a freeze-thaw cycle that ground lesser structures to powder in decades rather than centuries. Whatever had caused it, the size and height allowed the wind to howl through the gap in the stone that evoked the whipping gusts of the ocean. It reminded Crys of home, of the ships she grew up on. Of family.

Her wistful sigh was swallowed by another gust. Her fathers hadn’t been easy to get along with, either as parents or as teachers. Though they ran a trade empire along the northern coast of the Hundred Island Sea, she was expected to pull her weight on board. Tacking sail, setting a course by the stars alone, even scrubbing the decks. Long hours, few distractions. Even after all those years, she caught herself longing to be back under her family’s flag. Wishing she could turn around and see one of her siblings, or feel her whole world rock under her feet, or catch the sea spray against her face.

She wiped her cheek. Something cold had graced her skin there. Not sea water, though. Rain. Or sleet. Or some ungodly combination. As she tried to divine its physical properties, more of it landed on her, making her shiver in her thick doublet.

“Suppose winter’s not done with us yet,” she said to herself, then spat another olive pit off the wall.

Judging by the calendar, it was technically spring. But this was the Winter Court. A lonely castle placed so far south that the seasons blurred together into a formless misery punctuated by periods of extreme cold. This would be Crys’ third spring living in the south as guardswoman amongst Katerina’s court, but thought she’d gotten the rhythm of the weather down. Apparently not.

“How many more months, you think?” asked a familiar voice.

“Dame Lenna!” Crys declared with a mouthful of olive as she recited the response: “Three at least, but the winds will keep the air cold enough to cut with. Done playing decorator?” She held out the half full jar, which the Knight rejected. Her hand actually shot out to block the container so fast it was like she was deflecting a direct attack.

“Can’t stand those things…”

“What? Decorations or olives?”

Lenna looked at her stone-faced. “Both.”

Crys grinned. The Houseguard Knight turned liege was settling in nicely to her role as…well, the closest she’d come up with for a title was Castelan. House Stone now technically existed, with Lenna its sole constituent. The Winter Court was her fief, with the surrounding territory that comprised the old realm of the Marchlord being Katerina’s nominal demesne. This was all startlingly informal until the actual dividing up of lands and titles was performed when Katerina’s father passed. If he did die, that is. Stubborn goat seemed to always have one more sunrise up his sleeve.

“The guests arrived yet?” Crys asked, turning her eyes back toward the vast and empty nothing beyond the walls.

“No sign, hide nor hair. But I suppose there won’t be until they show up.”

“Right…you’ve met them before, right? Can we trust them?” Crys asked.

Lenna visibly bit down on the first answer that came to her, then readjusted her belt as an excuse to consider her response. The sword that hung there was quite spectacular. The rose quartz that had once been merely the pommel had spread up the hilt til it had nearly swallowed the guard. In months, maybe half a year, the blade would be entirely crystal.

“I trust Katerina. But I trust her friends as far as I can throw them, but as allies, they’re a formidable bulwark. Perhaps why Savin and her cadre haven’t moved on us directly yet. Especially given the ongoing uncertainty in the Capital. Best to court them with our hands open, showing all we have to offer. Riven included.”

Crys wordlessly vocalized her agreement, though the tone of her ‘mm hmm’ made her lack of conviction evident. Of course she could see the logic in it on a basic level. Despite her youth and relative inexperience in magical matters, Katerina made it clear that Riven had access to merely the tip of her potential. This meeting would be key to smoothing out any ruffled feathers from having a former Magister spy in her employ, as well as potentially opening doors for Riven’s future. Nevertheless, the dangers inherent in such a gathering were immense.

What if they didn’t believe Riven had turned against the Magisters?

What if they saw her as a threat?

Crys played with the hilt of her own sword. This was all far above her station, at least in her own mind. Her fathers had the title of Meergrave by sheer dint of their influence and wealth. Sea Counts, in other words. It meant they, and her, were only considered royalty by the awkward mingling of mercantilist reality and feudal law. Nobody taught her from birth the machinations of diplomacy or dastardly subterfuge—lessons that a lady might learn if raised in a proper palace.

Speaking of which…

“Have you seen Riven?”

Lenna pointed over to the smallest tower on the castle’s walls. “She’s in her room, last I heard. Vikka was in there helping with a few last additions to her makeup. I’d offer my own services but…” She held up a hand to her own face. Lenna was a handsome woman, but she’d never quite taken to the practice of dressing up quite like Riven had.

The guard chuckled. Disparity between their makeup abilities aside, it was amazing how far the two had come. Lenna seemed as confident as any woman born, and though Riven still had moments where her self-assurance flagged, she pursued this new edition of her identity with a fanatical zeal. There were times even that Crys would learn something from Riven. A way to wear her hair from a far-off land, or a way to use the dinner service that had baffled her.

“I’ll be checking on them, then. I’m in charge of security after all. That includes our little sparkler.”

“By all means. I’ll be back in the thick of things myself. I just need some…”

“Peace and quiet?”

Lenna smiled. “The opposite. Right here, at this spot, I can scream my fucking lungs out and nobody will hear over the howl of the wind.”

This got a real laugh out of Crys. She enjoyed having this part of the wall to herself. But for Lenna, she could learn to share.

***

Ascending the spiraling stairs to Riven’s little room, Crys heard the conversation between two familiar voices and did her best to keep her composure. Katerina’s handmaiden had been the closest thing to a school matron that Riven had, but she’d gotten at least a little comfortable teasing the high-strung woman. Crys reached the door just in time for an explosion of exasperation. Thinking quickly, she leapt out of the way to keep the short woman from running her over.

“OUTRAGEROUS!” Vikka declared, her arms shot aloft like war banners. "THE GALL! THE IMPERTINENCE! I WOULD NEVER DO SUCH A THING!” Only distance reduced the volume of her commentary. Crys shook her head, leaning against the door while drinking in the sight of her…girlfriend? Lover? Ward with benefits? Their relationship was complicated in some ways—not in the least of which being she’d tried to kill her charge mere months previous. But in the end, it came down to a simple truth:

“Dear, you look absolutely scrumptious in that dress.”

Riven spun around, letting her skirt swirl around her legs. The entire outfit was one of her own make, and she’d pulled out all the stops creating something to truly show off the extent of her Weaving. A vibrant green, like the forests of her homeland, with gold tasseling and embroidery in the colour and shape of autumn leaves spilled down her chest and her shoulders. Her body had filled out enough to gently curve the fabric in places, which she’d expertly tailored the garment to accentuate. Though demure, there were certain aspects that hinted at a playful streak. The dress showed enough neck to reveal a choker of golden lace, something more likely found on the lusty daughters of Merchesgarten than a noblewoman. And throughout her chestnut hair pulled into a modest bun, she’d laced pale little flowers from Katerina’s greenhouse. Not White Damsel, but certainly evoking their appearance.

Riven twirled a full revolution, settling onto her feet facing Crys. “You think so?”

The guardswoman grabbed the slim woman around the waist and lifted her up. Riven let her back arch like the follower would in the particularly spicy Elegari dance that had preceded an amorous encounter the night before. The pair separated only after ending the move with a kiss, then a laugh.

“What’d you torture poor Vikka with?”

“Oh I accused her of being a panty thief. The kind of deviant who gathers the undergarments of proper ladies for her own sick pleasure. Why else would she be so interested in dressing and undressing our darling Highness, Princess Katerina?”

Crys laughed and shook her head. “Well, everyone else in this fucking castle seems to be a pervert. It would only follow that it has bled over onto her. But try not to bully her too hard, yeah? She’s a good egg.”

“I know, I know. She was just fretting with my eyeliner a little too long and I…well. I might not be a spy any longer, but I do know how to push someone’s buttons.”

“Well, I think she did a wonderful job. They’re gonna love you.”

“I don’t suppose you’re any more willing to discuss who exactly it is I’m trying to impress?” Riven asked.

Crys’ smile faltered. “They’re…they’re the Princess’ friends, but you share a lot in common.” It ate at her to not be able to tell her partner exactly what was going on. But Katerina had insisted. All she needed to know was that there was some kind of important group, and that she needed to put her best foot forward.

Under the combined tutelage of the women of the Winter Court, Riven had come a long way from the waif who had snuck her way into their midst to spy on Princess Katerina. Vikka had taught her all manner of feminine comportment and pastimes. Crys had shown her how to dance without looking like you had a blade in your hand…even when you did. And Katerina had instructed her on the magical arts, giving new ways to use her natural abilities. Lenna hadn’t had as much to offer on the ladyship side, but they did exercise together on the regular. It was through her that Riven realized that she really liked running for recreation. Now Crys got to see her all the time in the morning, making laps in the vast empty spaces of the keep or along the walls.

And every time she did, every time they kissed or fucked or danced or talked until the sun gone and they could see nothing but the faint glint of the moon in each other’s eyes, Crys knew that she was still under orders to watch her. Because Riven had fooled her once. And nobody fooled a Dawnchaser twice.

But that suspicion gnawed at her like a plague rat in a pantry, tainting one of the only meaningful romantic relationships she’d had in her life. She wanted to trust her. But trust had to be earned. And though Riven had done nothing to hint at a lingering loyalty to Savin, especially if the circumstances of her previous employment were true, there remained a gap.

A gap she hoped to close that very night.

***

The sun had just disappeared behind the walls of the Winter Court when Crys led Riven through the Inner Courtyard to the Keep. Robust and imposing, it served as the castle’s final bastion of defence, as well as the living quarters for the Princess herself. The weather was wet and miserable, though the snow did not linger on the ground as it once did. Spring was coming, but this far south, the cold seemed to linger long past its welcome like a boorish party guest. Crys pulled her coat closer around her, keeping Riven close as they quickstepped toward the smaller sally port opposite the much larger keep door. It was unguarded and unbarred, as previously arranged. Nevertheless, the tension of the moment built in Crys.

Its halls were dark and as silent as a tomb, giving the interior stone a more foreboding presence than normal. The season’s chill had made the comparison even more apt, with even heat coming from the thermal bathhouse struggling to shift the interior temperature. Riven scrunched up her left hand into a fist, flipping it over so that her nails pointed up. Light escaped her tight grip like she’d tried to wrap her hand around a torch to snuff it out. When her fingers opened again, resting upon her palm was her glowing Weaving needle.

“Wanna see something Katerina taught me?” she asked. After a nod, the mage gripped the needle in her fingers and spun it around her right hand. Gossamer, glowing threads slid from its eye to tie around and around, like she was bandaging a cut. When she synched it closed, the wrap glowed brighter than any oil lantern she’d ever seen. Illumination literally in the palm of her hand.

Every now and again, Crys forgot that Riven was a mage. Then she would do something spectacular, and it would take her breath away once again.

“It’s this way,” Crys said, holding out her hand to indicate a direction. Riven nodded, taking the lead. But as she passed, she grabbed the other woman’s hand and squeezed. Crys didn’t fight it, and the pair ventured forth hand in hand. Whatever happened, it would be together.

With Riven’s light and Crys directions, they made quick work of the Keep’s maze-like halls. Arriving at the huge double doors in front of the banquet hall, the guardswoman tugged her beau to a halt.

“This is it,” she said, her voice dire. “This is the point of no return. We can still go back.”

Riven turned to her with a laugh, but visibly swallowed as the tone of the conversation became apparent.

“What do you mean?”

Crys took a deep breath as the speech she’d been practicing since Katerina had told her about the gathering dissolved on her tongue. In its stead, she had nothing but anxieties and a bitter taste in her mouth.

“This is an important meeting. Your future with…with the Winter Court, will be determined here. You’re going to be learning things. Things that people will kill to protect. If you…if you’re still…”

Riven pulled the taller woman’s chin back to facing her, giving a weak smile as she cupped Crys’ cheek.

“I appreciate your concern and the fact that you’d warn me, even if you thought there was a chance that I was still a spy, is very sweet. But I meant every word of what I’ve said since that day in the Throne Room. I am not here to betray Katerina, and I would never betray your feelings. You are special to me, Crys. I hope that I am to you, as well.”

The guardswoman’s face twitched. The sudden sting in her eyes caught her by surprise, and she turned away again with a feigned cough. She clamped down on her eyelids like a sluice gate slamming shut, feeling only slight moisture glisten her lashes. She hadn’t felt safe to cry around someone in…

“At any rate,” Crys said, her emotions wrangled once more, “there’s something else you should know. This group is important, yes. Very important. But they’re also very…presumptuous. A matter of too much power and not enough to occupy their time. Idle hands and all that. If at any time you are uncomfortable, let me know and we leave. I’ll take the blame for any repercussions.”

Riven smiled, then shook her head. “I appreciate the warning. But I’ve dealt with Katerina, I’ve dealt with Savin. I can’t imagine a more difficult, shameless audience.” She pushed through the doors into the vast banquet hall, unable to see the expression on Crys’ face.

***

The banquet hall had been, at one point in time, a centerpiece of the ancient southern realm’s court activities. Before the March of Ice, before the First Magisterium, before this was even called the Winter Court, minor lords came from all across the region for the festivities within this hall. Then, as mages crushed both king and serf beneath their heel, this was one of the last holdfasts of patriarchal rule on the continent. Its grand chambers stripped to the stone, ancient relics and tapestries sold for resources, for food, then finally, lost in the last battle that had turned the castle to a ruin, leaving it abandoned for over a century.

In the time since it had been reoccupied by the Kingdom of the Frontiers, efforts had been made to revitalize it. Lenna had, with the help of Vikka and the servants, been working to bring a touch of elegance and finery back to the Keep. The hall had been one of these, combining elements remaining from its glory days with modern tastes and contrivances. The long, ancient banquet table had not been cut up for firewood as previously believed, but merely separated into moveable pieces and placed in a cellar for the gods only knew what reason. That cellar, along with several ancient lighting fixtures and half a rack of expensive wines, had been uncovered after the repairs to the outer wall. It had been lovingly refurbished by carpenters from the town. The fixtures had been updated to sport modern kraken oil lamps and hung up as well, giving the room a warm, cozy glow.

Behind the large table and the oil chandelier, several seats had been set up on the far side from the door to make it appear like the bench of a tribunal. Four figures sat equidistant from one another, all wearing robes of a magenta fabric that fluttered weakly as if underwater. In the left-of-centre chair was Katerina, elbows on the bare wood and her fingers interlaced. Her silver hair spilled out of her hood, its glow subdued for once. On either side of her, three strangers locked eyes on Riven with a mix of expressions. Crys had only been privy to this cabal’s existence, so seeing all of them together came as much of a shock as it would be to Riven.

As they walked forward, the door closed behind them. Lenna revealed herself as having been standing behind it, and she drew a heavy deadbolt into place before joining the pair. They kept walking forward, Riven in the middle, with Lenna and Crys on either shoulder.

“That’s far enough,” a slight woman with a pinched, green face said from behind the table. “We’ve no idea of her actual power.”

Crys blinked. She blinked again. Only on the third blink did she confirm there was no trick of the light to confuse her; the woman who spoke really had green skin. The full bodied robe covered most of her features, but her face and hands were exposed, the visible skin resembling a forest canopy in summer.

“You worry too much, Rosalind!” the woman on the opposite side of Katerina declared in a much cheerier tone of voice. A portly lady of considerable curves, she wore her robe in only the strictly literal sense. The hood was thrown back, sleeves pulled up, and the belting was completely undone, revealing porcelain pale skin adored with fabric around her chest and waist that could barely qualify as undergarments. What she lacked in garments she more than made up for in jewelry. Her fingers, nose, ears, and even her navel were pierced with jewelry of precious stones and gleaming metals that made her appear to be the most successful (yet least discrete) courtesan in the world. The capstone on her extravagance was a single large ruby hanging from a golden choker around her throat. It pulsed with light, gently, reminding Crys of the pommel of Lenna’s sword.

“Me worrying is what’s kept us safe,” the strangely hued woman, Rosalind, shot back. “I suppose she came dressed like a tree for my benefit. Shameless. Would have thought a spy would be more subtle.”

“Green’s a lovely colour on anyone!” the nearly naked woman retorted. “Well, on almost anyone, that is…”

Katerina held up a hand, and the pair stopped bickering. The cadence with which they did so made Crys think they did that on the regular, and that they would continue doing so without direct intervention until the end of time.

Yep, she thought to herself, these are definitely mages.

“We’ve gathered here,” Katerina began, putting on her best formal tone, “To convene an inquest into the allegiance of Riven of House…did we give you a House yet?”

“I had a House, once,” Riven said, her voice suddenly low and mournful. “I doubt they’ll have me back.”

“She could join my house,” Lenna commented, raising a hand. “That’d double the population of my dynasty overnight.”

Katerina shook her head. “Later, dear, later. For now, the more pressing issue…is her loyalty.”

There was a tension in Crys’ arms and legs. She felt, and acknowledged that she felt, a desire to leap in front of any accusation, to protect Riven from the suggestion that she could be betraying them. But Crys stood still. They knew this was coming, both of them. A final reckoning to see if the spy could join the conspiracy against her former mistress in earnest. She would have to stand on her own…but at the very least, Crys could stand beside her.

“I came to the Winter Court,” Riven began, “as a spy, and then out of desperation, as an assassin. I admit that. Then, instead of being executed, I was given a second chance. Even if I was betraying my former mistress for your cause, I knew that my loyalty would be doubly suspect. I have done my best to prove through deeds, not words, that I can be trusted. But I’ll answer any question you have as truthfully as I can. But…if I’m going to be on trial, I believe I should have a right to know who is judging me.”

“Impudent wormling,” Rosalind spat.

“She’s got a point,” the previously silent mage sat next to Rosalind said with a shrug. “She’s either leaving here as a comrade or as a corpse. We might as well put our cards on the table.”

Another twinge. The casual reference to Riven being killed had Crys’ hackles up. As much as she liked Katerina on the whole, mages threw around the ideas of life and death without pause. If lives mattered so little, you spent them like a sailor with a month’s pay at a whorehouse.

“Quite right, Nira,” Katerina agreed, then turned back to Riven. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to do some introductions. You know me, of course, Princess Katerina of the House Forde, Guardian of the Winter Court, Beloved Wife to Dame Lenna Stone, and Host to the current meeting of the Tellurian Conclave.”

“Tellurian what?” Riven asked. Crys had been around Riven long enough to know she often asked such parroting questions when she was feigning ignorance. How much of this would she already know?

“Those few mages who haven’t seen eye to eye with the Magisters for one reason or another,” the nearly naked woman explained. “My name is Ailia, though I don’t have a surname or House at the moment since my husband’s untimely-”

“Murder,” Nira said in a singsong voice.

“-passing. I am the Conclave’s Mistress of Enchantment. I also have significant financial investments in mining and shipping concerns all along the Hundred Island Sea. My number opposite Princess Katerina is Rosalind, alleged illegitimate daughter of the King in Green. Feel free to presume her position was gained entirely via nepotistic patronage.”

“I’m also a Mutagenicist and Transmogrifier without peer on Argan,” the green woman clarified. “Far more difficult disciplines to master than merely instructing a rock to do a thing.”

“You’re also an arrogant twit.”

“Least I’m not a slut.”

“Ladies, I swear to the gods that ignore my voice, please, pretend we have some gravitas. Rounding out our numbers is Nira thul Kincaid. They’re the only known Voidcaster outside Magister control, and her Voidgates are the means by which we can both communicate secretly and convene our little meetings.”

“Hey,” Nira said with a wave. Dressed in a motley selection of clothing from lands both near and far, their most distinguishing feature was a pair of impossible eyes. Their irises fluttered indecisively between shades of blue. As Crys watched, they rolled through teal, cerulean, and a deep oceanic, until settling back to their original cobalt colour.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” Riven said, offering a deep curtsey. Whether she meant that or not was up in the air.

“She’s cute,” Nira commented casually, seemingly uncaring that Riven could hear them. “She taken?”

“Yes,” Crys said, about to step forward before remembering herself. Riven looked back at her with a sympathetic expression before returning her attention to the Conclave.

“Aw!” Ailia pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Your guard’s sweet on the little hedge witch, Katie. Give them to me, I need a pair of distractions on the long road back to port.”

“She’s not a toy to be traded around,” Katerina insisted, though Crys suspected her indignation was more possessiveness than being above this sort of thing. “Riven is here to show that she is both loyal to me, to us rather, and able to contribute as a prospective sixth member of our Conclave.”

“Hedge witch? I thought you said she had power?” Rosalind asked in a distinctly accusatory tone. “You didn’t bring us together to look at a sparkler, did you?”

“What I said in my rather detailed missive was that Riven here has great potential, both as a mage and as a Mistress of Whispers for us against the Magisters.”

“From what I heard,” Ailia cut in, “Riven here tried to attack you when her cover was blown. How do we know for sure she won’t do that again should the opportunity present itself?”

Riven strode forward, her back straight. “The Magisters used me. I won’t run away from that. They used my family’s precarious status to leverage my compliance, using me as a…as a hound. But I know who I’m loyal to now, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself.”

The smile that formed on Ailia’s soft features that was anything but friendly. “Really? Anything? Then strip out of that nice dress then. Let’s get a look at you. All of you. Who knows what blades you might be hiding ‘neath that gorgeous frippery.”

Crys fumed. Fucking mages. Were they all deviants, or did Katerina just draw them in like moths around a flame? But to her surprise, Riven was already in the midst of complying.

She twirled, just as Crys had taught her in their dance lessons. But as her skirt lifted and she picked up speed, a spreading glow subsumed the garment like water soaking into wool. It glowed white hot, until the fabric itself retreated. Traveling up her slight, subtle curves, vanishing inch by inch until she wore nothing save her underthings. And though her panties were modest, they did little to hide the cage which kept her womanhood in check.

“Well that was spectacular,” Nira said. “Never seen a Weaver do that.”

Katerina seized on the moment. “Oh, she’s more than a mere Weaver at this point. She can hold her outfit in a kind of…perpetual instability, reforming it at will.”

For the first time since the meeting started, Rosalind looked interested rather than annoyed. “Metamagical Criticality. Highly dangerous…but think of the utility…”

“And,” Ailia added with a raised finger, “she’s hung like a farm animal to boot!” Riven blushed. Even in a cage, her cock’s size was evident.

“Well you’d be the expert on breeding with other mammals,” Rosalind spat.

“You’re a plant, dear. Does that mean you spurt pollen from your cute little stamen?”

“What if I make you choke on what I have and we’ll see if you get hives?”

“LADIES. GRAVITAS,” Rosalind reminded, then got things back on track by praising herself. “As you can see, the White Damsel cultivated had a particularly potent effect on young Riven here, save of course for one piece of her anatomy.”

The mages locked in on Riven’s body, their eyes practically fondling the thin woman.

“How does she compare to the radiative enchantment feminization you described?” Ailia asked.

“Well I’m glad you asked. Lenna dear! Be a good girl and strip for me as well, would you?”

“Like hell,” the Knight replied, folding her arms. “I’m supposed to be guarding your body, not flaunting mine.”

“She’s disobedient?” Ailia asked, “How bold! I love when they pretend they have a choice. Makes the moment when they buckle so sweet.”

“And ambitious if she thinks she can do anything but die gruesomely should she raise a blade against us,” Rosalind added.

Katerina loosed a volley of forced laughter. “Lenna’s just playing, of course! She’s an obedient member of my Houseguard, and my wife, and she would do whatever I ask to keep my status as the head of his Conclave clear and evident.” The last words of her explanation were through clenched teeth in a rictus grin. She also made some less than subtle ‘come hither’ head nods toward her partner.

Lenna, for her part, sighed so deep Crys though she might be pulled away by the undertow. Eventually though, she too began to disrobe.

“Fucking mages,” Lenna muttered under her breath.

“Not all mages are power-mad deviants,” Riven replied at the same volume.

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time for you to learn. You’re still new at this.”

Soon they were both nude, save for the underthings Lenna wore and Riven’s chastity cage. The mages were not subtle in their leering. Several exchanged lewd comments and physical descriptions that were just out of ear shot. Riven covered herself after a while, but Lenna stood at a respectable parade rest. Even in her underwear, she was a soldier.

“And how do you mark their progress at becoming women?” Ailia asked. “Is this merely an aesthetic affectation, or have they begun to see themselves that way?”

“And how forced was this feminization?” Rosalind added, pulling a pad of paper and quill that looked like long, thin pine needle from her robe. “Could either method be duplicated onto an unwilling participant? I have several test subjects I’d like to try and replicate these results on.”

Katerina stood up from the table, circling around it while brushing her hand on the shoulders of Ailia and Nira as she did. “I’d be reluctant to say both processes were entirely voluntary. One was an accidental discharge of magical pollen, and one was…well, let’s say a happy accident of my own caprice. But both our subjects here seem much happier as women. Wouldn’t you agree, Dame Lenna?”

Put on the spot, Lenna lost a little of the naked confidence she’d displayed moments earlier. “I’d…say it’s complicated.”

“Is it?” The Princess pushed herself up against Lenna, her hands roaming around her muscular, well-proportioned body. “Do you like the way you look in the mirror? Do you wish I could have made you into your new form earlier to save you from a decade of awkward encounters with barmaids and sellsheaths?”

“Well…yes,” she said, then much quieter: “I told you that in confidence, Kat.”

“But I want you to be proud of who you are. What you are. I don’t want people to think you were merely forced into this by some enchanted rock. Are you a woman?”

A beat. “Yes.”

“Then let’s show them. All of you,” Katerina purred, then slipped her fingers around Lenna’s bra. The simple, functional garment came up and over her head, revealing her breasts to the Conclave. Plenty more than a handful, they must have grown since the last time Crys had seen them. Thick, prominent nipples protruded from them, with the viewer’s choice as to whether it was the relative chill of the room or her arousal which caused the effect. Propelled onward, the Princess tugging Lenna’s underwear down until her cock was free. Notably, at least for Crys, it was as stiff as her nipples.

“How interesting!” Ailia said with a clap. “Despite her vehement protest that she’s against this attention, her anatomy says otherwise.”

“Simple mammalian psychology,” Rosalind commented, her hand writing vigorously. “Easily manipulated, easily exploitable. Then it functions, yes? It’s not merely decorative?”

Lenna clearly sensed where the conversation was going. “Kat, no. Not in front of-”

But the Princess bull-rushed her objections. “Of course it does! It performs all the functions one would hope, and more besides. Observe.”

She placed her hand beneath Lenna’s shaft, wrapping around it like the hilt of a dagger. Despite Lenna’s words, her body responded to the touch and she was very visibly erect in moments. Despite this, her length was maybe half of what Riven had to offer.

Crys tried not to watch. She knew it was highly improper, but…well, she was also highly attracted to women. And watching a powerful knight be so thoroughly dominated by a much smaller lady was a compelling sight. Especially when, despite her obvious discomfort at being the centre of attention, her body betrayed her.

“Fucking…ridiculous…” Lenna grumbled, shivering as she stiffened.

“What’s that dear?” Katerina purred.

“It doesn’t seem like it’s getting bigger,” Rosalind asked with a detached curiosity. “Much smaller than the mage. Is that a side effect of the transformation?”

“Maybe we should compare them directly,” Ailia replied, though her tone was much more naked in its lusty overtones.

“It’s not that much bigger,” Lenna snapped back.

“Oh really?” Katerina said with a playful laugh. “Let’s gather some empirical evidence, shall we?”

Katerina pointed a finger at Riven’s chastity cage and spoke a word of power. The cage unravelled, revealing the mage’s full size. Then, with another whispered phrase just beyond Crys’ ears, Lenna and Riven lurched toward one another. Briefly, the guardswoman caught sight of some ghostly pale string, connecting the two women together like the strings on a marionette.

Another loop wrapped around their cocks, keeping them in contact as they writhed. And, even with Riven’s cock still hanging limp, her size was easily double Lenna’s.

“Sorry,” Riven said, offering a sympathetic smile. Lenna said nothing, doing her best to look anywhere but in front of her. Katerina kept them bound together, and the more her wife tried to pull away, the more she accidentally rubbed herself against the larger length.

“It’s not your fault,” the Princess teased, leaning up to whisper right into Lenna’s ear. “I know you’re doing your best with what you have…left. How much did the sword take? Do you even remember?”

The Knight remained silent. Like she was bravely enduring some kind of torture. Careful practice and experience had revealed that Katerina only doubled down when pressed against. This silence was Lenna’s effort to not reward behaviour with the same feeble resistance that drove Katerina on. Crys silently offered sympathy, but that didn’t mean she stopped watching.

Despite the lack of riposte, Katerina pressed her attack. “You know, with all the mages here, we can make your body whatever you want. We can give you your full size back, I bet…or would you want us to make you smaller?”

A sharp intake of breath escaped Lenna’s lips. Crys winced. The Princess’ words had struck home, and she made her partner press herself against Riven to really push the size difference deep.

“Oh dear,” Katerina laughed, “I had no idea! My little Knight came equipped with a dagger but dreams of wielding a thimble. Perfect for a real Lady, you know. A disarmed dame with a pleasure button no bigger than mine.”

A trickle of fluid slid from Lenna’s length. She tried her best to stay still, but that drew Riven forward and against her. Riven did the same and reciprocated the rubbing.

“Or would you like me to take your cock away completely? I love you this way, of course. But I can make you just like me. Identical to any woman born, with a slit between your legs that aches to be filled. Maybe by someone like Riven, here. Someone who knows how to use her blade.”

Lenna’s fists balled, showing all the signs of someone reaching their limit. Crys told herself she could stop watching this at any moment. That she probably should. But instead…she kept watching. She kept watching…and imagined what it would feel like to be at Riven’s side, whispering her own cocktail of teasing words into her partner’s ears. Riven remained quiet, for her part. But her own efforts to avoid the inevitable were quickly collapsing, and every moment the contact continued, the larger and more erect her cock grew.

“You’re so close to bursting,” the Princess teased, “and Riven here hasn’t even left the gate. You’re a very impressive mare, dear, but your stamina is rather lacking. Maybe you’ll make better breeding stock.”

At last, Lenna made a noise. A strangled, helpless groan as she sprayed a few meagre jets of cream against Riven’s thick shaft. A momentary lapse in control caused Lenna to voluntarily thrust forward, draining herself to completion. She caught herself and stopped, reclaiming a flicker of her dignity. But only that. The rest ended up sprayed uselessly on a cock much larger than her own belonging to someone she previously defeated mercilessly in a physical altercation.

The bonds released, and Lenna immediately stepped away.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“It’s okay!” Riven replied. “If anything, it was flattering.”

Katerina no time. She gathered up some of the mess that Lenna made and held her glistening fingers up so that all could see.

“As is plainly demonstrated, the transformation did not impede her ability to climax. If anything, it made it easier for her to achieve.”

“But what about her?” Ailia asked, pointing at Riven. “She looks thoroughly aroused at the moment. Perhaps we could see a demonstration of what she’s capable of too?”

Thankfully, if one could truly thank her at this moment, Katerina shook her head. Apparently her interest ended with getting the chance to humiliate her wife in public. Crys breathed a sigh of relief.

“I believe we’re getting off track, my colleagues. The true purpose of this meeting-”

Rosalind shot to her feet, the quick motion and scream of her chair’s legs working in tandem to interrupt Katerina, something that was very difficult when she was on a roll. The mage was, to Crys eyes at least, adorably short. Put up against Vikka and it’d be a coin toss who was taller. She spoke with a firm voice, though, silencing further chatter from her colleagues.

“If we’re going to milk the mageling, I would like a sample.”

The rest of the room turned to her. A moment passed. Two.

“You can’t be serious,” Katerina stated at last. If she was hoping to return a thin veneer of decorum to the meeting, her plan quickly disintegrated with the green woman’s demand. “That’s perverse even for you.”

“There are very few mages who have penises on this world, and fewer still able to perform sexually with it. I would like a sample of her gametes for my…experiments.”

That did it. Crys stepped forward, placing herself between Riven and the rest of the mages.

“Hold the fuck up. She’s one of you! You’re supposed to be protecting each other, not treating her like a test subject!”

“We’ve not yet determined that she’s one of us, dear,” Ailia said with the sour expression of a woman who had to directly address The Help for the first time in her life. “If she’s to be a member of our little quorum, then we need to know she’s valuable enough to pull her own weight.”

Crys turned her outrage to Katerina. “And you’re fine with this? You put her under my care, she’s my responsibility.”

Katerina nodded. “Indeed she is. And you’re correct that she’s one of us. We can’t force her to do anything-”

“Well we can,” Rosalind amended.

“-we WON’T force her to do anything,” Katerina rephrased, “but it would go a long way to demonstrating that Riven is willing to give of herself to the wider group. The Magisters are very quick to shut down any research into the nature of hereditary with regards to passing down magical aptitude. This could be the key to unlocking previously forbidden secrets within our very bodies. Things hidden from the world by the minions of hegemonic bureaucracy.”

“I see,” Riven said, her voice a little shaky. “And when d-do you want this…sample?”

“As soon as possible!” Ailia replied, very clearly unable to hide her enthusiasm.

“And it has to be extracted in front of us,” Rosalind chimed in, momentarily on the same page as her verbal fencing partner. “No chance of the sample becoming tainted by unseen elements, or swapped out by one of us for their own purposes.”

Ailia nodded. “Indeed. I want to watch the extraction process…to ensure an unspoiled sample, of course.”

“And importantly,” Nira added, “to see that cock pop.”

“Yes, obviously that too,” Ailia said, making a face.

“She’s not an icing bag! You can’t just squeeze her and get a product to come out,” Crys snapped, still fuming at this whole situation and doing her best not to just flip over the damn table.

“Ooh, so unlike our little lowborn friend here, she experiences some performance problems?” Ailia commented. “Not unexpected, given the feminization effects of White Damsel.”

“I can make something for that,” Rosalind declared, reaching into her robe to pull out several coloured vials.

“Of course you’d carry around aphrodisiacs.” Ailia said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m making a potion with basic ingredients. Not that you’d know the first thing about alchemy. Feel free to pretend you don’t have an enhancement of your own available. Your propensity for fucking your own guards would put a princess in a bordello farce to shame,” Rosalind shot back, then paused when she met the absolutely livid gaze of Katerina. “Present company excluded from that characterization, Princess. I’m sure you had plenty of good reasons to fuck your guard.”

“I’m a deft hand with pruning shears, Rosie dear,” Katerina said, then let her gaze fall back on Riven. “As you can see, our cabal is a bit…fractious, at the moment. Idle hands and all that. A project would help keep our attention focused on what matters.”

Riven raised her head up as if examining the ceiling and put her hands on her hips. Even nearly nude, the former spy turned intelligence asset was working the problem over in her mind. When her eyes lowered, it was with a new determination.

“I have some conditions,” Riven said. Ailia began to laugh again, but the nearly naked woman shot her a withering glance. “I mean it. I’m a mage, if nothing else. You want what I have to offer, you’ll give me at least a modicum of consideration.”

The other casters around the table took a moment to silently confer. Then, with a scattering of nods, they bade her to proceed.

Riven held up a finger. “First: no impregnating anyone, or any thing, with my seed.”

Rosalind cringed. “I have no interest in breeding more of you. You’re all disgusting, hairful apes. I have interest in seeing if I can isolate what makes someone a mage, nothing more.”

Ailia raised her hand. “My interest is also firmly out of the realm of fertility. Mage seed is supposed to be a potent alchemical catalyst. I’d want it purely to use for my Enchantment rituals!”

“And again,” Nira said with a gleam in their multicoloured eyes, “I just wanna see that cock pop.”

“Secondly,” Riven continued, “If I do this, and my…well, if you’re satisfied, then I’m a full member of your little Conclave. No probationary period, no fetch-and-carry phase. I’ve done my share of dirty work for Savin, I’m not doing it again for you.”

“I can live with that, so long as you still remember your greater fealty to me,” Katerina intoned. The three other mages on that side of the table gave a verbal or non-verbal sign of affirmation to the deal offered.

“Alright then…we have deal.” Riven nodded to Crys, who stepped back to join Lenna off to the side. The knight was still recovering from her own incident, and offered some of the same sympathy back. To be a plaything in front of these horny strangers must have been so violating. So intrusive. But Crys hadn’t denied herself either. Maybe being around these weirdos was rubbing off on her…metaphorically speaking.

Already teased and stimulated by Lenna’s demonstration, it took very little direct stimulation to rekindle the fire that had already been lit for the tall mage. There was only one problem: while White Damsel had given her access to new ways to experience pleasure, it could cause a bit of…performance anxiety in the moment. Crys had all kinds of ways to help her when they were alone, but on Riven’s own, the enormous shaft refused to reach its full potential.

“Umm…did you mention you had some performance enhancement?” she asked in a shaky voice. Too eagerly, both Rosalind and Ailia spilled out and around the banquet table. The former held a potion bottle full of a swirling liquid, the latter a large, amethyst gem pinched between thumb and forefinger.

Both mages reached Riven at the same time and, in a bid to beat the other, pushed their solution to her problem.

“Tincture of Horn Weed, Sindervalia, and a syrup made of things I found in the Veldt Between,” Rosalind explained while dumping the potion down Riven’s gullet. Meanwhile, Ailia had knelt down behind Riven, still playing with the gem. As Crys watched, purple stone’s shape stretched, with the middle thinning down until she had a brilliantly faceted cap on one end and an inverted bell on the other. Crys tried to think where she’d seen that shape before. Then, with a titter, she remembered: it had been between the cheeks of an employee at the Salty Spray, Anchordown’s famous dockside brothel.

“Try to relax, dear,” the ludicrously dressed woman said before pushing the tip of the newly plug-shaped gem somewhere very private. Riven squeaked in surprise, but Ailia was gentle and clearly experienced. Gentle but firm pressure made the magic seamstress’ hole relent, accepting the plug inside. As soon as it stopped disappearing inside her, the flared gem at its visible end flaring into a purple glow.

“Maybe we should have tried one at a tiii-ahh!” Riven cried out as the power of whatever the pair had done to her took hold. Crys watched with a confusing mix of emotions as the previously flaccid length between her partner’s legs throbbed, growing with each beat of its owner’s quickened heart. The plug slid into her behind pulsed in tandem, making its purpose obvious.

“I use this on my maids when I’m looking for a diversion,” Ailia explained as she too watched Riven’s dick stiffen. And when it reached the length Crys was intimately familiar with, it kept growing.

“Is…is it supposed to be getting this big?” Riven asked, eyes darting back and forth between the mages. They didn’t have enough time to answer before the potion’s effects manifested. Thin, watery release dripped from her length. As time passed and the length stabilized, the leak only got worse. Rosalind cupped her hand beneath it to examine it closer.

“Hmm…prodigious pre-ejaculate before climax achieved. Not like the others.”

“She’s getting wet, you silly shrub,” Ailia said, giving the puddle of clear fluid a once over herself before dipping a finger in. “She’s a woman, after all.”

“Regardless, the quantity of magical potential in this fluid is minimal. We need more.”

“Make it pop!” Nira shouted from the table, having kicked up her heels on the expensive furniture. All she needed was a bowl of grapes to look like the audience member of a particularly bawdy play.

Riven, meanwhile, was shuddering like a reed in the wind. All this attention, combined with the magical alterations to her genitals, were overwhelming her capacity to stand up for herself. Crys took the initiative, sliding behind her and letting the taller woman lean against her. With one hand looped around her waist, she brought the other to wrap around the base of her cock.

“Let’s give them what they want so we can be done with this,” she whispered into Riven’s ear. And with slow, gentle motions, she stroked off her partner.

“D’you have a sample jar?” Ailia asked.

“Unprepared as always,” Rosalind said with a shake of her head, withdrawing an empty vial with a cork stopper from her cloak. They kept their distance from the lovers, making commentary among themselves. All eyes were on Riven, whether she wanted them there or not.

“This is so humiliating…” she said, but whimpered as a sizable squirt of pre forced its way out of her cock and rolled down Crys fingers.

“Hey,” Crys said in her firm, guardswoman tone. “Focus on me. Ignore them. Focus on me.”

Riven nodded shakily, looking back on Crys. Though valiant, the enhanced size of the organ made full stimulation difficult with only one hand. But Crys could tell that if she let go of Riven’s body, she’d fall. A conundrum. A remedy occurred to her, leveraging her partner’s new size and flexibility. But they’d need to work together.

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

“Yes.” The response came instantly.

“Good.”

Crys spun her around and lifted her, hiking Riven’s legs to rest on her shoulders. Though maybe not as strong as Lenna, she trained every day to keep her upper body in peak fighting form. And though the former spy was tall, she was still quite thin. The position folded Riven up in quite the compromising position, putting her cock not just pressing between her breasts, but also within easy reach of her own mouth.

By the shudder that Crys felt through her hands, Riven figured out what she was thinking without her even needing to verbalize it. The sheer wicked thrill of the act was enough to renew the flow of clear fluid, which glazed the side of her shaft. After a deep breath, Riven slid her lips onto her own cock.

“Amazing,” Rosalind said, actively taking notes on a small, white leaf. “Can all humans do that?”

“Katerina’s girl sure can’t,” Ailia said, shooting a derisive glance at Lenna’s still nude body.

“Perhaps she needs a potion of her own.”

“Or a plug.”

“Or both.”

More chatter. They’d only get out of here when they got their sample. So Crys gently squeezed her partner’s body together, forcing more of the shaft past Riven’s lips. When she relaxed, it slipped back out. By doing this repeatedly, she realized she was the driving force in fucking Riven’s face with her own cock.

That’d be a thought to get off to. Later.

Whether it be the potion, the plug, or the lurid and giddy thrill of being made to suck her own dick, Riven made it clear that she was close to popping. Crys briefly thought about making her swallow the entire load and depriving these perverts of their prize, but her eye was on the target. She wanted this done. And so she let the cock fall from Riven’s mouth and shuffled, awkwardly, trying to keep her held this way while still reaching climax.

“Here,” Lenna said, coming to the rescue. She held Riven up, keeping her thighs pinned to her stomach while allowing Crys full use of her hands. With them she gripped the slickened shaft and jerked her to completion, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

“You’re doing so well,” Crys said, her hands pumping furiously. “Almost…done. Now be…a good girl…and cum for me. Cum. Cum!”

Riven obeyed. A geyser of thick cream shot up and out from her, foiling the mages’ attempts to gather a sample in a dignified fashion. Indeed, the force of the explosion caught everyone off guard, splattering everyone in close range to the act. Riven herself seemed the most surprised. The shameless squeal of ecstasy she gave sounded like she was either dying or having the best orgasm of her life. As Crys milked the cock to completion, Rosalind placed the vial to the head just as the last dregs oozed out of her.

For a few moments, the only noise in the room was that of heavy breathing and the pounding of hearts. It was only broken by the squeak of Nira’s chair as they stood up.

“Woo!”

“Correct,” Rosalind confirmed, staring at the fluid like it was a revelation from holy scripture. “A font of power like this…think of the potential applications!”

“So you’re satisfied?” Crys asked on Riven’s behalf.

“Oh yes,” Ailia said with barely contained glee, using the empty potion bottle to collect her own sample. “Quite satisfied. We’ll need to find a way to export further production…but aside from that, I think we can find a place for her amongst our ranks.”

Nira approached, their amusement bolstered by the sticky state of the rest of the people in the room. “I might have an idea about that. Plus a way to keep that monster from messing up your pretty dresses all the time.”

***

Weeks passed. The Tellurian Conclave had dispersed to the corners of Argan once more, leaving the Winter Court a much less frustrating place without their presence. Nevertheless, Crys had dwelled on the ‘deal’ that Riven had made with the other mages for a place among their ranks. They’d worked out the details outside her presence, and Riven had been frustratingly vague about how her obligations manifested. Perhaps as petty revenge for keeping her in the dark about the encounter. Which, Crys had to admit, was fair enough.

Once again, Crys was at the threshold of Riven’s room. This time, the door was closed. Usually it was left open when she was out to keep the arm air flowing up the spiral stair and warming her room. She knocked. No response. She knocked again, then tried the door’s knob. Now worried and with only a little guilt, she pushed the door open.

Sure enough, Riven was there. She looked lost in thought at her desk, a half-completed Weave in front of her. Some kind of red frilly number Crys couldn’t see from where she stood. So she entered, creeping with as little noise as a woman carrying a sword on her hip could make. But it wasn’t the jostling of leather and steel that made her halt. It was the noise Riven made.

“Ooh~” she moaned, sliding down in her chair. Her hands gripped the armrests, her breath accelerating until a familiar cry rang out. Her back arched, and then she sagged back. All the indications that she’d just climaxed, yet she was fully clothed, hands nowhere near anything on her body.

“Are you alright?”

Riven started at Crys’ voice, nearly toppling out her chair. Full of adrenaline, she took a few moments to get her bearings and realize it was just her lover in the room, not some intruder.

“Oh, it’s you! I’m sorry. I was…” She drifted off, hand cycling as she struggled to come up with an exact description of what just happened. “It’s the mages. The Conclave.”

That made Crys raise an eyebrow. “You’ve lost me.”

With a cheeky little smile, she lifted up her skirt to show off a pair of curiously glowing panties that clung to Riven’s body as if it she was perfectly flat down there. “Nira showed me how to bind and maintain a small Voidgate. Really a Voidpinhole. They meant it to be mounted to a wall or something, but I was able to Weave it into a garment.”

The implication took a while to click into place. “You can’t be serious.”

“Only one way to find out,” she said, rocking her hips side to side. Shaking her head in disbelief, Crys knelt down and pulled back on the fabric. The first few inches of Riven’s fat cock emerge from a swirling, cerulean whirlpool. Her flesh was slick and half hard, showing clear evidence that it had just been ‘used’.

“Who?” Crys asked.

“No idea. Ailia, if I had to guess, but all three of them have access. I can choose to take these off at any time, but…well…” Riven shrugged, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, "I gotta do my part for the Conclave.”

Crys couldn’t do anything but laugh. “Perverse weirdos, the lot of you.”

“Oh?” Riven let her skirt drop. “What if I told you I could make a pair of these panties for you? Ones linked to mine.”

“And why would I…” Crys began, then felt her face heat up. “Oh.”

Riven giggled. “I guess I’m not the only pervert around here.”