Prince(ss) Yelane

Humanity has been divided for as long as history can track, sure there had once been a great empire but it didn’t unite them, it simply kept the streets clean and quiet, factions arose in the form of the great houses who were elevated above their natural station by not their sole efforts but the achievements of the family at large.

Time went on and the nobles grew to hold their own house in higher regard then the rest of the empire so when the cataclysm came and the empire was shattered, no body tried to pick up the pieces, no one except House Finitum, a distant cousin to the imperial family.

Generations passed with some progress made by subjugating lesser factions and minor houses, forming a semblance of order far to the north.

The current head of the house has grown old, though she understands she has time, she must prepare her heir for their rightful place upon the thrown.

And so she set out word of a ball to the neighboring factions both human and those more amenable to human ideals.

And now here stands the prince, cheeks red as the maids fuss about his body, slowly dressing him with the finest of dress for such an occasion.

After all this is more then a mere soirée, this is his official introduction into the great game; everything must be perfect, all things must be in their proper place.

As the direct relatives of that ancient empire House Finitum must stick hard to the customs of old, for starters, only women may sit the throne, as ordained by the Goddesses of Eytherus.

The queen can’t very well create a new child, not in time for what’s coming, so with heavy heart she took steps to ensure Yelane would be the ideal candidate.

With subtle magic infused into his flesh over a long period his body has become markedly girlish in appearance with wide child bearing hips, ass and facial structure. To look at him you would never guess they are in fact a biological male.

Yelanes cheeks burn in embarrassment as the work concludes, now standing in a dress crafted from animal furs as is the fashion this far north.

The dress terminates at the calves and while not showing much skin is still incredibly form fitting, inviting potential suitors to gaze upon his body, leaving little to the imagination.

His feet are set into a pair of slippers that admittedly does feel fairly comfortable with a small amount of fur inside the slipper to conserve body heat.

His long brown hair is a fusion of dwarven and human styles with a large braids down the center of his back with the rest of it allowed to cascade freely.

There’s a knock upon his door, firm but polite; it could only be one person.

The door opens and in strides Lady Dunwall, a large, muscled woman with her dark hair pulled into a warriors braid and clad in heavy plate armor with a sword upon her hip. She’s captain of the guard and Yelane’s personal bodyguard… often his babysitter too.

The maids disperse and give a small nod to the knight before hurrying out of the room leaving the two of them alone.

“You look breathtaking your grace, truly” she says, her eyes scanning over his girlish form long enough to enjoy it but not so long as to offend.

Yelane mumbles something to the effect of “I wish I didn’t…” when the warriors keen ears pick up on as she gently steps forward, offering her arm to the small princess.

“Come now… this won’t take long at all, a few hours at the most…” she says eliciting a sigh from the princess as he takes her arm and is led out of the room and into the hall.

The halls are resplendent, the walls adorned with banners of both house and imperial and portraits detailing the long ancestry of the bloodline, the floors are a dark oak with a blue and black carpet that stretches down the high vaulted corridors that wind through the castle grounds.

The keep went by the name “The Icy Cradle” for its famed throne room that sat at the very center of the sprawling structure and for its location where the snow never ends.

“Your studies.. How have they been..?” She asks, making polite conversation on the long walk from the princesses room to the ballroom.

“It is… a lot… not only do I need to know the intricacies of modern decorum, mother insists I learn the archaic practices of the old empire and on top of that I must also become intimately knowledgeable on the histories of the neighboring factions as well…”

The lady knight gives a small hum, taking it in and allowing him to vent without saying much in return; it’s not her place after all.

Glancing outside Yelane scans her eyes over the rolling hills caked in powdery snow and the jagged peaks of the distant dwarven mountains. Though he’ll likely never see it, he’s always wondered how they lived, they are the houses closest nonhuman neighbors but they are reclusive to say the least, preferring to stick to their mountain homes and Deep Communities.

The pair arrive at the doors to the ballroom, outside stand a pair of guards and the queen, Yelane’s mother, dressed in a similar but far more conservative dress.

Her face, once hosting trepidation, breaks into a wide smile as she spots her son, she steps over quickly, taking her son’s hands in her own.

“Oh darling… you look simply gorgeous…! You’ll be getting many suitors tonight of that I am certain!” She says, her true motivations having slipped out.

“Suitors…? You said nothing about suitors…” he says his reservations growing by the second.

“Well of course darling, we need to ensure the longevity of our bloodline if we are to rebuild the empire” She says, her smile faltering as she realizes the jig is up.

Seeing the doubt in his face she gives a small sigh before qualifying her statement. “If you truly have no interest in love I can respect that but you must get pregnant at some point! I assure you there’s few experiences that compare to motherhood…” she says with a dreamy sigh as Yelanes face burns with embarrassment.

He could accept the girlish figure, he could stand the dresses and being called a princess but the idea of getting pregnant? The idea of being a mother? That he couldn’t stand.

“For the last time mother I am NOT going to allow some… some… stranger mount me like a woman…! A.. and certainly not to… to…” he trailed off, his outburst losing steam as the humiliation set in.

The queen for her part just sets a hand on her son’s cheek, caressing it softly with a look of mild disappointment.

“Darling… you just haven’t found the right partner yet… the seers told me upon your birth that this was the way things must be… if not for the good of the family then for the good of all mankind… but… we can discuss this all later… we’ve quite the night ahead of us… please just… try to keep an open mind…” she says before taking several feet away and interlacing her fingers in a graceful gesture before nodding to the guards who slowly open the large oak doors.

Guards form a line on either side of Yelane and the queen as they gracefully stride into the room just as they were taught, past the guards stood the many guests invited to the ball, Yelane tries not to think about how many of them are here with the sole intention of fucking him.

After a short walk across the ballroom they take a seat upon the their respective thrones towards the back of the circular chamber.

While not as grand and legendary as the throne room, the ball room also carry’s on the frozen aesthetic the keep is so known for with floors that are partially frosted over with a thin layer of rime and icicles that hang from the ceiling that emanate a faint pale light similar to the moon.

Many of the guests resume whatever it was they were doing with a few making their way to the throne to suck up to the queen, complementing her beauty and the splendor of her realm while she politely smiles and nods, hardly taking any of it in.

It’s then that Yelane notices that a line has formed before his throne as well, not quite as large as his mother’s but the fact that there’s a line at all discomforted him.

Thankfully there’s at least one person from the line up of potential suitors that caught his interest…