The storm dragon, Ionanthe, 432, and the human crown princess, Emilie, 21

Ionanthe the dragon had not expected to receive a guest apartment inside the royal castle, especially for a month. The rooms were comfortable and well-appointed, as befit the House of Wedell, but she’d had to remain in her human form to enjoy them. What else kept her here, after the demon invasion was repelled? She’d been up since before dawn, reflecting on that.

With a smile, she realized what it was. She’d grown attached to this party of adventurers that had sought her out. She’d always enjoyed the company of mortals--the way that they lived knowing that they didn’t have an eternity ahead of them, and how much they accomplished in such a short time, was always amazing to her. And mortal lovers, whether they were men, women, or something else entirely, were fun, too. While she had learned a lot about lovemaking over her four hundred and thirty-two years of life, enough to be the teacher rather than the student, the mortals always taught her something new.

Dragons were functionally immortal unless they were killed--and killing a dragon was much easier said than done. She’d long since made her peace with the fact that she would outlive--and had outlived-- all of her mortal friends, even elves. But maybe this time she would not be bereaved. A slime could live forever in the right conditions, and perhaps a slime-human hybrid like P--Galatea would take after the slime in that regard. And from the sky, during the Battle of Askania, she’d seen Caelan fall dead from a dark spell and then rise to his feet a few moments later to slay Asmodea. Had he been given immortality by Aldir? She’d suspected the answer was ‘yes’.

But today, she would likely not have time to ask. She, and all of Caelan’s party, were to attend the rebuilding meeting today, and she was to serve as an advisor today. She suspected that the Crown Princess hoped to keep her in Askania to advise her reign for a good long while. So she made herself presentable and looked in the mirror, ready to look the part of an advisor.

Even in her fully human form, she still cut a striking figure. Her pointed ears and arresting electric-blue eyes set against pale skin, as well as large breasts, a large ass, and a slim waist, always attracted attention. Her sky blue hair was still in its usual short sleek bob with bangs--she’d cut it herself out of habit, even knowing that there were servants who could help. Since it would be improper to come to the meeting with armor and weapons, she had dressed in a white linen blouse and deep blue knee-length skirt with a matching cloak, and wore long white stockings and a brown pair of boots. Was she herself a weapon, and therefore improper to be seen inside Askania Castle, since she could shift to her true draconic form in a heartbeat?

She shook herself out of the amusing thought when she sensed that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t a mortal assassin, since she would have smelled them coming. Magic, perhaps? Or a more powerful entity?

“Who’s there?” she growled, letting her draconic nature slip into her voice.

Not hearing a response, she looked around furtively, at every corner of the room, and every shadow. The furniture in her room looked innocently back at her, as it was bathed in the morning light trickling in from the window. There was nothing amiss here except for the one sunbeam that seemed to move on its own!

Ionanthe barely had time to scream and begin to shift before the sunbeam enveloped her and she disappeared.

Emilie Mechthild Josepha von Wedell, Crown Princess of Ocowyth, awoke at dawn in her bedroom, flushed, sweaty and panting. Her long black hair was in a braid for sleeping rather than tangled due to her tossing and turning, and her thin white linen nightgown and white lace panties itched on her skin. She turned over in the large bed, expecting to see Caelan Barrett lying beside her, wearing nothing but a lewd smirk that she’d seen only in her fantasies.

Last night, she’d dreamt of Caelan, in her private chambers, making love to her in her own bed. She’d woken herself up in the middle of the night with a moan of his name, and one hand on her breast with the other between her legs, slipping into her panties. She’d tried to bring herself to orgasm, but failed. Her delicate fingers and soft skin were no match for the calloused hands of Caelan the warrior, the hero, that she’d imagined on her nipples, on her pearl, all over her body. She had returned to sleep unsatisfied and strangely cold, missing his warmth. While she’d dreamt of him again later in the night, it wasn’t quite enough to rouse her, or arouse her, for that matter.

She lifted herself from the bed with determination. She was a woman of twenty-one, the Crown Princess of Ocowyth and the de facto regent, since her father was dead, her mother was catatonic, and her elder sister was attainted. So she was the only person who could organize the rebuilding of Askania. She had to get the city council, the guilds and the clergy to cooperate on the rebuilding process, squeeze the nobility for more money to contribute to the rebuilding, and make sure that the people of Askania were fed and sheltered during the interim. While Caelan’s party was very helpful in that regard, Emilie knew that they would not stay in the palace forever. Ionanthe, in particular, was only in Askania as long as she wished, and Emilie knew it.

After washing up thoroughly, she saw that her violet eyes had no bags or redness, and her pale skin was clear, except for the lingering blush on her cheeks from her dreams and acts the night before. She put on a thin white linen shift, and a pair of pink panties. While she was going to put her long hair up in a bun, she would do so after she dressed. Until then, she would leave it down.

Then, she adjusted the shutters of the bedroom window so that she had sunlight to properly evaluate her appearance, but no one could peer in and see her in her most **** state.

Fortunately, this particular meeting did not warrant full court dress, so she needed no assistance to dress herself. And besides, she did not want a maid to see her at this moment. She decided that she would wear a deep purple day dress that went down past her ankles, barely skimming the floor, buttoned up in the front, and was cut to resemble a formal royal guard jacket. It was a simple design, but subtly opulent, as it was both purple and made from faerie silk. Faerie silk was highly prized for the enchantments that made any garments crafted from it always appear new, clean and ready to wear without any further maintenance; only royalty, nobility, and wealthy merchants and guildmasters of Ocowyth could afford to wear faerie silk. Therefore, this dress would both highlight her status as Crown Princess and leader but not appear overly ostentatious. It also would compliment her slender figure, small breasts and narrow hips.

But before she could put it on, she stepped into a sunbeam on the floor, and disappeared.

Ionanthe and Emilie reappeared in the Harem Hotel demiplane, in front of the manor, right where Ginelia predicted they would be.

“...and six! The vision in blue you see is Ionanthe, the storm dragon and a stalwart ally of Caelan’s party! It appears that she’s trying to shift, but for now, we are keeping her in ryumimi form!” said Ginelia, with a bright grin, half for the audience and half for the cast already assembled.

Ionanthe attempted to complete her transformation, but found that she was unable to do more than grow her horns and tail--which had ripped through her skirt, and shift her hands and feet into draconic clawed limbs. She saw and felt her splendid sapphire scales spread across her body, but she realized that she still looked mostly human. This interim form was painless and she could transform herself to stay mostly in human form with draconic characteristics, but she rarely assumed the 'ryumimi form', as Ginelia called it. She then looked at Ginelia in her corporeal form, at the shocked Caelan and his party members who were already there, and at the twenty identical maids, and many cameras flitting about. This seemed…oddly familiar.

“And next to her is Princess Emilie Mechthild Josepha von Wedell of Ocowyth! She’s appropriately dressed for the season, and you can really see it in this light!”

At that, Emilie looked down at herself, and saw that in the sunlight streaming down upon them in the demiplane, the white fabric of her chemise was effectively transparent. Her breasts were effectively exposed to everyone. She also saw that Mahja, Adalheid, Galatea, Glyka, and worst of all, Caelan, were all able to see it, before they quickly looked away. She shrieked and tried to cover herself, wrapping her arms around her chest.

“Welcome to Harem Hotel, ladies! Please join your fellow contestants over there,” said Ginelia, gesturing to the other contestants, “and I will explain what Harem Hotel is, and what you are supposed to do.”

“Harem Hotel, huh?” said Ionanthe, realizing where she was. “If I’m a contestant, then I accept the game!”

She then strode over to Mahja, Adalheid, Glyka, and Galatea, who looked at her incredulously. She said nothing in response, only flicking her tail. Emilie sheepishly shuffled over to join them. Caelan looked like he wanted to go to all of them, but Ginelia held up a hand and spoke.

“Well done, both of you! You’ve already earned some VP! Now, that gives me a nice transition to explain the rules to you all!”