Caged Princess Making Starts Making Moves

Devallia was sick and tired of being confined to a literally gilded cage, literally; everywhere she went in the manor was covered in gold or silver, and any place that wasn’t like that had her the substandard guards her father had hired and equipped with fancy looking gear basically keeping her from that place up high. Devallia had recently started awakening to the power of the storm; she knew her mother was demon-kin like herself, and her mother had even made a comment every now and then about being descended from a demon with power over storms, but she was separated from her mother by her father on the eve of her 10th birthday, the altercation her mother had with the thugs her father had hired had resulted in serious damages to her mother. Devallia’s mother had been a street performer, a rather popular one in the city she was in, and Devallia was a result of her mother being drunk and sleeping with her father.

If her mother had been sober, the woman wouldn’t have even thought of going more than thirty feet from where the man stood. The house of Markilma, way back in her mother’s day, was known for most of the things the current iteration of the house was; most of them weren’t good; rumor had it that the first lord Markilma had usurped the prior lord’s family and did their best to purge that family from the records of the area. Ironically, Devallia’s mother was descended from one of the surviving family members of the family the Markilma family usurped, but that was over twenty generations ago before her mother, and the rulers of the nation didn’t notice because of the civil war raging in the nation at the time, the War of the 5 princes as history texts now called it had five brothers fighting over succession for the crown of the kingdom; ironically, they all died in the conflict, and the crown went to their younger sister as the sole surviving member of the royal family, but a combination of her lack of ruling knowledge and lack of a presence as a ruler during the first few years of her reign meant that she really wasn’t in any position to correct things if she was aware of the changes in power. By the time the queen was in a genuine position of strength and authority, most of the prior noble houses were either destroyed or replaced with usurpers claiming ownership of the territories.

Devallia needed to escape the family; she just couldn’t find out how. Well, that was until she caught her immature half-brother hiding what looked like part of a lady’s undergarment’s on the floor designated for herself. After her less-than-respectable sibling had left, she checked where he saw him stash the attire; the stashed items were a pair of massive bosom guards, far greater than the size she had seen any female sporting in the manor; her bust size came the closest and was still dwarfed by the undergarments; she had spotted what appeared to be female with the possible dimensions outside of the manor, but it was only once or twice and for fleeting moments. She carefully pulled the undergarments out of their hiding place and stashed them in the one place in her room she knew no one would look, mostly because all of the staff were instructed to avoid it and her father and half-brother intentionally avoided that part of her room when they were there with her.

Devallia’s room didn’t look like a place she lived; it was more designed to show her off to others; not that it meant much, seeing as she was kept a secret from almost everyone in the outside world; Of the 20 maids and 25 butlers of the house, only 1 maid and 1 butler of the house knew about her existence, and they were under some pretty strict working stipulations. All of the maids and butlers were barely given the minimum expected wage for their services; the only reason they put up with it all was mainly because they really had no other options.

Ironically, Devallia had been working to bring the house of Markilma down; it was more difficult than she would have liked due to the restrictions placed upon her, but she still managed to find enough out to know where and how to look for what would best incriminate the house in the eyes of the nation, and she made sure to write it all down in a language and code only she really knew these days, one that was passed down to her by her mother, along with another language she seemed to pick up one day that no one else seemed to know mixed in for good measure. Devallia had been gathering items for the use of her magic in a leather side pouch that she had been able to special order by magical means, and since it lacked the ostentatious flair her father and sibling strived for, they allowed her to keep it as a show of good faith on their part, and keep her out of their hair a bit longer; the act had practically eaten up most of the meager coin her family gave her twice a year as a joke. She supposed she could just swipe a few coins on her way out; her magic made it a bit easier.

As she was thinking about how so many maids were hired, then fired because of circumstances beyond their control, she suddenly saw herself in the mirror as an amalgamation of several of those same maids; she almost dropped the spell in surprise. She was looking at what looked like an amalgamation of half a dozen maids, in a cohesive package that had her personal sexiness. She didn’t know if she would be able to do it again, but she did have an idea of how long it would last; Devallia had used this same spell before, but it was to look like people she had actually seen and gotten clear details on the figure of, she had never done something like this before, so she thought she would need to hurry, at least until she heard the sound of her half-brother approaching her room and dropped the spell out of reflex.

The door to Devallia’s room almost seemed to fly open as her half-brother practically threw it out of his way, “Where are they, tainted blood,” he screamed at her. Her half-brother, Satornus, was a full-blooded human with more fat than muscle but still managed to somehow have above-average strength for a human; the 34-year-old was over a decade her senior on account she was just barely 20 years at this point, and the man had the intellectual and emotional maturity a prepubescent child, at best.

“I’m sorry,” said Devallia in a flat tone, with a bit of an electric edge to it, “you are going to have to be more specific, especially since you have been told numerous times not to put anything up here without our father’s express permission.” She knew this would just rile her half-brother up more, but even he wasn’t foolish or stupid enough to actually attack her unprotected.

The man-child of a sibling turned an impressive shade of crimson out of pure frustration, before saying, “The Undergarments I liberated from that stupid cow, is what I’m talking about.”

“I haven’t seen anything matching that description,” Devallia said with a straight face, “The only undergarments I’ve seen the past week or so have been my own; what possessed you to hide something like that on the floor designated as MINE? Or are you just that conceited?”

“I’m the next lord of this territory; I can do what I want!”

“Well,” muttered Devallia, “that answers everything,” she turned towards her half-brother and projected her voice, using her magic to amplify its sound for just him, “as you can see, what you are looking for is not here, next time you want to hide something, I suggest you do it in your designated territory; not just the territory you will get as a rite of succession. NOW…GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” Lightning began to swirl around her, sparking in all directions, her eyes looking like thunderstorms had filled them. Her sibling quickly made his way out of the room, after which she dropped the image she was projecting as she slammed the door shut with her magical hand and then used it to lock the door. Her room did have a functional lock, and her father had the key, so even when she managed to lock the room, he could still gain access whenever he wanted.

Devallia gave out an annoyed sigh; she couldn’t believe that just happened. Her half-brother being an entitled asshat was nothing new; her asserting herself against him was. She looked over at the full-body mirror in her room again; she was still the buxom (FFF-Cup) demon-kin with dark pink skin, sexy curves, a toned yet voluminous ass, with a decently sized tail that ended in a forked heart that almost looked like it was being split by a lightning bolt. Truth be told, she was a near-dead ringer for her mother, their frames and figures were nearly identical, they had the same tail, and her skin was actually a few shades darker than that of her mother.

She knew why her father kept her around and locked up where she was in the manor; it was to have a personal reminder of his affair with his mother; a personal shame that he was secretly proud of. Her father knew he was keeping her in a state that breeds resentment, but he really didn’t care because his primary motivator for keeping her there was his own vanity-driven ego. Killing her was too messy; even if he was mostly covering it all up, there was always the chance that he had missed something because it failed to come to his notice for whatever reason. Devallia had actually heard part of the family story of how they had usurped the prior ruling family of the region, and part of it involved overconfidence on the part of the usurpers because of a mention of young children being permitted to flee the wartorn region into the wilderness and wider conflict, assured that such young children wouldn’t last long. It wasn’t until a year or two after the usurping of the territory that they started worrying that some good fortune could have fallen onto one of those children.

What they didn’t know is that of the dozen or so young children, seven of which were spotted in the act of fleeing by the usurpers, five had survived and scattered to the winds, and Devallia’s mother was a descendant of one of those five, and thus Devallia herself was a descendant of that same survivor. And twenty generations later, by sheer happenstance, the descendant of one of the usurpers impregnated one of the rightful heirs; granted, her claim on the territory through her father’s side was strenuous at best, and likely wouldn’t officially be possible so long as her half-brother was still alive. But chances were, with his attitude and personality, he probably get himself killed doing something foolish, stupid, or both. When that did inevitably happen, Devallia’s father would have no real choice but to name her, his “secret” child, his heir apparent and give a reasonable reason/excuse why her presence was so minimal up to that point.