“I am going for a ride outside the castle,” Liiran replied. Arias rolled his eyes.
“I swear, you do that every day.”
“It allows me time to practice magic,” Liiran said tightly. Arias sighed.
“Why not practice your magic much in the way that Father does?” Arias suggested. “You could join the rest of our witchly brothers!” Only four of the octuplets were witches; the remaining four, which included Arias, had rich red hair, inherited from whatever concubine had birthed them. Antyny’s harem was massive, having collected an enormous number of former males over the years. His sons were not aware of which concubines were their mothers.
The other three witchly octuplets, as well as Antyny’s other many witchly sons, joined the King daily to practice their magic. They practiced by assisting Antyny in transforming troublesome men into beautiful women, and every now and then, transforming troublesome women into male infants. Liiran had never joined his brothers, as he found the entire process disgusting. But he could never voice this opinion, of course. Who knew what Antyny would do? Maybe he would turn Liiran into the daughter he never had.
As the thought came to Liiran, he remembered the beautiful woman he had become in his dreams, and shivered. Not with horror, but with anticipation.
“No, I prefer to practice in private,” Liiran said firmly. Arias scoffed. Roza, the Estrellian, began to kiss his neck. “It looks like your ‘attendants’ need attending to. I will be off.” He got up and left.
“Prude!” Arias called after him. Liiran rolled his eyes. He always felt like the black sheep amongst his brothers, but Arias was perhaps the one he was most different from. Liiran grabbed his steed, a beautiful white mare called Satin, from the Royal Stables. He saddled her and went for a ride.
The moment he passed the gates of the city that surrounded the Palace, he felt the tension and stress leave his shoulders. Liiran had never felt comfortable with the pressure of his princely duties. All he longed to do was ride horses and practice magic in private. That didn’t mean he shirked them, of course. He was a good son. He just wished he wasn’t a prince.
Liiran slowed Satin from a gallop to a walk as they entered the forest. They took a route he knew well, one that would bring them to a private glen where he could practice his magic without anyone seeing. They arrived in the glen and Liiran dismounted from Satin. Before he could begin practicing, however, a strange feeling came over Liiran. It started with severe nausea in his gut, then progressed to tingling across his entire body. Liiran bent over, moaning.
There was a flash of light.
When the light cleared, Liiran stared down at himself. Something had happened to him. Quickly, he hurried to the small pool of clear water in the glen. He fell to his knees at the sight of his, or rather her reflection. The strong Prince Liiran was gone. In his place was the beautiful woman Liiran had been seeing in his dreams.
Her previously muscular arms were slender, her ragged and calloused hands were thin and feminine. Her blonde hair had grown to extend halfway down her back. Her strong face was soft and round, her eyes and lips large. The figure she had was even finer than that of Roza or Myla’s. In fact, finer than any of Antyny’s concubines. Her waist was small, her hips wide, her breasts and butt large and perfectly round. Prince Liiran’s riding outfit had even changed to a light blue gown that perfectly clung to her new body in all the right ways, emphasizing her flawless features.
“What…happened?” Liiran whispered. She looked at herself helplessly. She knew she should be devastated. But to her shock, she was actually pleased. It was as though something had been missing her entire life. Something she now had. Satin walked over to her and gently nuzzled her cheek. Liiran laughed. “Satin, you are so sweet. I am fine.” She kissed her loyal steed. Satin whickered softly at her.
Liiran got to her feet. She frowned. Referring to herself as “Liiran” didn’t feel quite right. At least, not while she was a woman. Instead, she would call herself Liira.
“Liira,” she said experimentally. The name filled her with joy. Liira laughed happily. Her voice was sweet and melodic, her laugh like bells. She couldn’t help but feel overcome with happiness at being Liira, a beautiful Princess, rather than Liiran, a responsible and dour Prince.
“Father will insist on returning me to normal when we get home, so we must stay out as long as we can,” Liira said to her horse. “What shall we do before I am forced to become Liiran again?”