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From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {ASSD} repost "The Price and the Cost" {Uther} (magic M+f nc)
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Date: Tue, 27 Apr 2010 08:10:14 -0400
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If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law
to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do
something else.

This material is Copyright, 2003, Uther Pendragon.  All
rights reserved.  I specifically grant the right of downloading
and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long
as this notice is included.  I would prefer to do my own
reposting, thank you.

If you have any comments or requests, please E-mail them to
me at nogardneprethu@gmail.com.

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly
coincidental.

                     #  #  #  #  #  #  #  #

                     The Price and the Cost
                       by Uther Pendragon
                    nogardneprethu@gmail.com


"Every piece of magic," the young witch said, "has a cost
and a price.  The price you can raise from your peasantry, the
cost you must bear yourself.  And no, Your Majesty, I don't know
what the cost is of returning your youth to you."

"The price is high enough," the old queen replied.

"And the cost will also be high.  Not your life, but that is
the extent of your guarantee.  As for the price, most goes to pay
for the ingredients of the potions.  Turning you into a young
woman isn't a matter of waving a wand.  For my living, I ask less
than your brute soldiers wrest from a single village in a year."

"It is a high price."

"So it is.  Turn it down."

"No.  My youth once again is worth it.  Worth far more than a
score of villages.  The soldiers will just have to be more
persuasive this coming harvest time."  She smiled at the witch's
wince.

The dread sisters can put a lot of knowledge into a peasant
girl in a decade, she thought, but the result is still a peasant
girl. She ruled a rich land.  Only soldiers could keep it from
being conquered.  Soldiers required pay, as well as certain other
inducements.  And almost none of the peasant women who were among
the other inducements came from villages which had paid their
full taxes.  The peasants were too self-centered to see the
necessity.  Oh, well, that was one of the limitations which made
them peasants.

The ingredients were already at hand.  The wisewoman guested
and prepared the chamber two days and one night.  Then the queen
fasted and bathed.  She entered the room alone and in a plain
shift.  The scents were already dizzying before the witch began
anointing her, and those smells were worse.  She could remember
drinking several concoctions, standing still while the witch
danced around her, herself spinning until she dropped to the
floor, giants coming out of the floor and gnomes out of the
ceiling.  Which images were true and which were drug-induced she
couldn't say.

When she awoke, she ached in every bone.  She was still
dizzy, hungrier than she could remember being, and thirstier than
hungry.  She was also slender and smooth-skinned.  The best she
could estimate from what she could see without a mirror, she was
about 14.  Her breasts were slight and her mound dusted with some
light fuzz.  The shift from the night before, the only clothing
in the room, draped over her and fell below the middle of her
calf.

All her clothing would have to be replaced, but that was
minor compared to the new body.  She'd put the servants on the
job today.  Thinking that, she called for a servant.  At least,
she tried to call.

She could hear nothing.  "Every piece of magic," she
recalled, "has a cost and a price."  Quickly she pushed over a
chair.  The crash was loud in her ears.  She wasn't deaf, she was
dumb.  She would roast that witch over a slow fire, but that was
for later. Now she had youth, and she was going to enjoy it.  She
nearly skipped out the door and strode toward the great hall.

"Stop there, girly," the huge soldier said, "where do you
think you're going?"  She tried to speak, remembered she
couldn't, and pointed instead.  "Well, you aren't.  Come with me
to the sergeant of the guard."  He grabbed her arm and hauled her
with him.  He headed towards the barracks used by the soldiers on
castle-guard duty.

She didn't know what would happen to a young girl hauled into
that barracks who couldn't explain herself and couldn't complain.
But, as she trotted to keep this soldier from pulling her off her
feet, she began to imagine.


The End
The Price and the Cost
Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2003/08/05
2004/03/24
2010/04/26


The index to almost all my stories:
/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm
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