In Loki's Honor

That day, Sariandi left me with a stern warning. I shouldn't under any circumstances select a Class.

I sat before the mirror and look a good look at me. There was a portrait in the room that might be my birth mother. I looked the spitting image of her. Pretty, angelical. Slender features that would wreak havoc with the haute couture circuit back on Earth. My hair was silver because of my perk but the portrait had pink hair. Pink. Anime. Hair. I used chameleon and changed mine to match. Not bad. The pink combined with the iridescence of my {Prismatic Skin} gave it an eerie elegance. I darkened the hue a bit, stopping halfway between baby pink and wine red.

I had medium breasts that would probably never learn the law of gravity. A b-cup but elves naturally had smaller chests than humans. I was easily one hundred and eighty meters tall, the tallest ever so far. My silhouette was lean with soft curves. It was demure enough in a proper dress but still feminine.

I both was a princess and wasn't. I mean, my core was a thirty-year-old human male from Earth. I had a good run at being female but it still felt weird. But I had not a single rat's ass clue as to what it meant to be an elf or royalty.

I could probably fake it, but I learned my first lesson about being an elf. Elves had long memories. Like, elephant kind of long. And they were passionate, despite their cold and aloof outside demeanor. When they committed to like or love something, they did that with all their hearts and their three sets of vocal cords. But when they made their mind about hating or disliking something, it would take until the fourteenth out of thirteen Demon Lords were summoned before they changed their mind.

And this sorrowful elf maiden that I had developed a huge, beyond-the-grave kind of grudge with the council, figurehead by archmagister Sariandi. I couldn't stand her. But she took as her life's mission to make me a decent princess.

Which meant she had to commission a bunny-sized tiara. Because I wasn't shifting back. Our back-and-forth engagements went for a while now. My seething banshee hatred had cooled a bit and was now lukewarm.

One day, weeks after my rebirth, I sat with Sariandi in my room to talk. I mean, she sat on a chair and I was in my bunny form as usual.

"So, tell me. Why did you go to such great lengths to make me live again?" From the safe and warm haven of my white fur coat, I asked her.

"Because you are our princess. It doesn't matter if you were once Lily the were-kin matriarch. Or whatever other lives you've lived during all this time. You are our Princess. All the Fulgen elves and others regard you as our royalty."

I got a bad vibe from what she didn't say. I wiggled my whiskers and asked the burning question. "Sariandi, tell me one thing. Where are the others?"

She smiled like the cat that got the bird. "Which others?"

"The elf King, princes, dukes? You know, the other elven royalty."

"You mean your father, brothers, sisters, uncles, and cousins?" Her smile faded and she looked away from me. Oh, shit.

"I'm the last one," I gasped. "That's why my race and the {Elven Royalty} perk are uniques. I should've figured it out by that."

"Indeed, you are. When that adventurer found you, he rushed back to report to us. Took a while to assemble and send the knights to retrieve you. That's why we went that far, committing a taboo in the eyes of the Gods to bring you back."

"Bringing the dead back to life is taboo. Gotcha. Maybe I'm exempted because I'm not beholden to anyone."

She looked back at my cute red eyes, "You are beholden to the People, Your Highness. That's your duty by birth."

"So, why am I a princess and not the Queen?" I asked but I already knew the answer.

She narrowed her eyes and explained in a patronizing voice, "You are underage. Until you complete two hundred years, the council rules in your stead. We won't give the reins of the Kingdom to a child."

I lowered my ears. "Sariandi. Let's be candid here. You are expecting me to birth some princes, aren't you?"

She smiled, "That would guarantee the future of the People. Without the Royal family to give guidance, we will be lost."

"Please explain. What sort of guidance are we talking about here?"

"There are several secret rites that can only be performed by elven royalty. Our customs, our very way of life orbits around having Royalty."

"Well, we're all fucked," I shrugged and dismayed.

Sariandi blushed. "That comes... later," She adds in a whisper.

Me and my dirty mouth.

I quickly corrected myself, "No, not the intercourse kind of fucked. Then we're doomed kind of fucked."

Sariandi leaned forward and whispered, "Well, you surely have experience with the first part. All your incarnations are female, aren't they? You surely laid with a man before."

"No," I said making a disgusted face. She might've missed it because she pressed on.

"No? The Death Princess was active for decades," Sariandi pressed on, her voice taking some very naughty undertones. "Surely she had a paramour or two. Or even needed to seduce a man during a mission."

"No. Apricot had zero libido. She died a virgin. I didn't even... play with myself," I confessed.

Zero libido because I'd bottled it. But just talking about it made me a bit horny now.

"And even if I was willing, it wouldn't work the way you think," I added with a serious tone.

Sariandi adjusted her posture and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Get me pen and paper," I reply. "It is easier if I write. Speaking might be uncomfortable."

Moments after I said that, Ikeshia already had what I requested in hand. "I'll need some robes," I tell her and Lixiss brings a luxurious cotton robe. Cotton. I even use {Chemical Analysys} but it comes as cellulose. Doh. But it feels like Egyptian cotton. I revert my transformation for the first time in weeks. A person can get used to that kind of pampering. I think that explains a lot of the apparent uselessness and level of spoilage of most princesses.

Given enough time, these ladies-in-waiting would even know the right time to wipe my butt, metaphorically speaking.

I sit at the table and write a message. with a lot of blank space between the lines and expressions. Once I'm done, I show it to Sariandi.

"Please mark the sections that you didn't understand. There's no code in here."

I needed to work around my curses because just mentioning them would trigger them and render all attempts at communicating void. I could use Nenandil but the elves didn't know about her. I think. The Archmagister crossed several expressions as I expected. I then add another roundabout explanation next to them that mean nothing by themselves. After a few rounds going back and forth, she gets the gist of it.

"You have curses that stop you from speaking about your curses, having children, interacting with divine magic, raising your skills above the basic level, talking about the improvements of your original world, talking about gods, and other things?"

"Most people need water to survive," I answered. I also wrote that a truthful statement meant yes.

"That's troublesome. If even the Gods of this world can't affect your Status, I can't see a solution."

"Well, some centuries ago I acquired a perk to break curses. The costs are astronomical. Especially because it depends on the caster' Magic Attribute."

The archmagister lowered her voice, "If I may ask, how high is your Magic Attribute at level zero?"

"Eighty-seven," I replied after checking. In fact, with only nineteen more Attribute points, plus-minus one, I would've nowhere to put my points. Everything would be at their caps, however, lowered they were by the curses.

She coughed. "Eighty... seven?"

"Don't ask about the other Attributes. They're a mess."

"I believe your Soul and Ego should be very high too, given that you retained your sanity as a banshee for a while and survived the ritual. We gambled big on that one."

"There you go. That's all that I'm willing to share for now. I'm not making any elven princelings, not even trying to."

Sariandi leaned to whisper in my ear as she wove a spell to block sound to and from the maids. "I can make you some enchanted items. You can use them to... get to know yourself better."

Oh, fuck. She's talking about dildos, right? LIke magical vibrating dildos or even a dick-tongue flesh golem. Eww. But the way she is staring at me probably means she won't let that one slip.

"I don't want them," I tried anyway.

"I can't force you to use them. And don't give me that disgusted look. The items will be brand-new when I finish crafting them. And they'll have a cleaning enchantment along with other... properties. I am sure you'll find them interesting."

She dropped the subject and removed the sound-blocking spell.

"We need to get you a spellcasting Class then. What is the best option you have so far?"

"I have a couple very rare Classes unlocked. No ultra-rare this time around."

"That's because you did nothing but lounge on your bed ever since you were reborn," Sariandi stated matter-of-factly. I'll send some rangers to train you. You'll receive lessons on magic from me personally, four hours every day. I hope we can get you a unique or at least an ultra-rare spellcasting Class."

With that said, she went away.

I kicked the maids out of the room and locked myself. I threw myself on the bed and summoned Nenandil. I leaned sideways and she sat in front of me. This way we could see eye-to-eye.

"Did you listen to our chat?"

"I did. You should give the sex toys Sariandi is going to bring a try. It's not like you can hurt yourself and even if you do, you can regenerate wounds very fast. And you need to reach what? Negative one thousand HP to die?"

"Eighteen hundred negative," I replied.

"That makes for a hell of a good pounding." She grinned and ground her waist in a very explicit way.

"Fuck you," I cursed.

The naughty fairy gave me a thumbs up, "That's the spirit, sister!"

The next day I was visited by none other than Ranger Vandyke himself, Senior Ranger Taeral. He was level sixty-five now. I had no idea what level he was before though. His beard was unchanged and he didn't look a day older, much less several centuries.

I was dressed in a very fancy leather armor that, to my {Magic Eater} perk, hummed with delicious enchantments. The thing was a relic and cost a King's ransom. I had a thirty-pound training bow, a pair of daggers, and some "wondrous items" borrowed from the royal treasury. Including one of the fancy teleport rings Lily once used.

"Your highness," He knelt before me.

"You don't have to kneel, Taeral. How have you been?"

He didn't stand up or even rose his head, "I'm honored you know my name, Your Highness."

"Oh. Ranger Taeral, what did they tell you?"

"Only that I had to report here. I was chosen for the honor of training the princess in woodcraft."

"That's about right. Did they tell you who the princess is?"

"I'm sorry if I didn't understand, Your Highness. The princess is Alloralla Fulgen, you."

It wasn't working. Maybe a more personal approach. I remembered how Greengolas died defending the ritual that transformed Lily into the were-jaguar matriarch.

"I still mourn Muridan's death, Taeral. And I still feel guilty he died defending me."

That made him raise his head and make eye contact. "Old Soul? Is that you?"

I extended a hand to him. "Yours truly, Taeral. It seems I'm your princess this time around."

He kissed my fingers and stood up. I popped black cat ears from between my dark pink hair.

"It is you," he gasped.

"I need to tell you my story. I don't care what those idiots of the council think, it is my tale to tell. But first, how's Renyn and Velora?"

He sighed. Velora lost her right hand fighting a wyvern and retired. Renyn is traveling abroad. He's gone for a few centuries already, making performances for coin in the human realms.

"That's awful! Didn't anyone attempt to regrow her hand?"

"The wyvern poison caused her whole arm to rot."

I puckered my lips. "Sariandi can go to hell. I know what I need. More Skills."

You became an Alchemist (ultra-rare).

You became a Spirit Surgeon (ultra-rare).

I picked my professions, the same as last life. I shouldn't have neglected some Skills. The rank up for Spirit Surgeon might have advanced Skills to regrow limbs.

"I'm ready, let's go train and gain some Skills."

"As you wish, Your Highness."

"Taeral. If you keep calling me that, I'll call you Vandyke."

"I beg your pardon, milady. What is a 'Vandyke'?"

"It's how we call your beard back in my original world."

"Call me as you will, Your Highness."

I smiled. Vandyke it is. We went to the archery range to train with the bow.