The young woman slept in Vella's embrace, the girl's hand bandaged with a poultice the night before. Vella used her craft, both magical and mundane to heal the hand so it would not scar or pain her further. Vella lie there watching the night's lover sleep, naked bosom rising and falling peacefully. For that she was glad, she did not think of herself as cruel and more than she might admit did not relish others thinking that of her. Perhaps out of some guilt, Vella was generous in their lovemakings last evening and the girl responded delightfully. Vella too found her climax at last, even calling out her name, Lorelle, affectionately. She began to contemplate seriously her mood and manner. The night before, her excitement and single-minded focus got away from her. If she were to win the affections of another, given freely as she wished, she would need to consider such things. The change would not come quickly or easily however.<br/><br/>Vella rose from the bed, glad for the warm glow of the bedchambers' fireplace, stoked to a satisfying size by a quiet and mindful servant since gone. The potion, the fruit of last night's efforts rested on her nightstand nearby. She had work to do today and many preparations. Gently she roused Lorelle. She was leggy, and reminded Vella of her younger self. With that thought she retrieved a measuring tape from her belongings and measured her hips and bust. Yes, this may work thought Vella. Alterations could be made if necessary and she could purchase things she might need about the village from a seamstress. She told Lorelle to go gather up her clothes and return to her quickly, the young woman complied without question. There were many details to consider which she made mental note of awaiting her return. On a pile at her feet they were lied and Vella sifted through them. There were a few simple dresses, a flowered tunic, a hooded cloak, one finer bodice, a couple thin shifts and other assorted undergarments. She thanked Lorelle, the young woman nearly in tears thinking she was to be thrown out the castle. Vella assured her that was not the case. She drew from a purse some gold coins and offered them. She hesitated and Vella insisted, and eventually commanded her to take the coins and buy herself new things in the village. The exchange vexed her and reaffirmed Vella's desire to have at her side a partner with the fortitude to stand up to her. Ruefully she reminded herself the situation was of her own making and did not blame Lorelle. Now she required privacy and sent her away with an indulgent kiss.<br/><br/>At her bedside Vella picked up the flask of her brewed potion. She uncorked the it and put it to her lips. Without another thought she took a long draft of the potion. The taste was unpleasant, they always were but Vella swallowed a good dosage and could almost immediately feel the affects. A Warm rush of feeling emanated from her stomach and flowed out to all her extremities. Her nipples hardened, not surprisingly, as she looked down at her breasts half expecting her them to shrink and her height to diminish. These things however did not happen, with some relief from Vella. The changes were more subtle and not drastic. Vella's confidence in her skills were well placed. She longed to look into a mirror, but ever disciplined she first don one of the handful of dresses she acquired. It was a peach colored outfit, that fit her snugly around the hips and fell to a suitably modest length. At a bronze gilded basin she washed the slight makeup she wore from her face, and tied her hair back with a light green ribbon in a girlish fashion. Her patience gone, Vella stepped in front of the mirror. It should be noted here, childhood fairy tales of witches not withstanding, she did see her reflection in mirrors. The vain Vella would not be without them.<br/><br/>Vella was immediately pleased by what she saw. The dress, with her hair tied back spoke of a lass in no more than her twentieth year. The change was not too drastic, her womanly hips and full breasts remained. Her complexion was only now more naturally rosy without makeup. It would not due to be without her charms. She turned one way and then another, and looked over her shoulder, pleased with the results.<br/><br/>Now what Vella saw in that mirror was not what almost anyone else would have seen. She looked more like a young noble woman or of some wealth dressed in clothes below her station. Her hair shiny silky and raven, carefully sculpted thin eyebrows and beautiful porcelain skin without blemish. Her long black lacquered nails, and how she held her chin up with supreme confidence. All these things spoke of someone of wealth perhaps even minor nobility. Still, there was no question she would be mistaken for a second as the Witch Queen of Arges. Vella, cloistered away from common folk was blind to these details, however careful she might think she had been.<br/><br/>The power of magic it seemed, lie as much in the eye of the beholder, as in the witchery.<br/><br/>Vella hurried about gathering the other things she would need. She laughed at herself, she had not been as excited or lighthearted in a long time, she was eager to leave the castle. From a loft above her chambers she brought down a pair of high leather boots and satchel. Things long forgotten by Vella, but carefully stowed by her loyal servants. She was glad for the boots, and the heavy hooded cloak she purchased from Lorelle. The weather was turning, the snows would come soon and Arges would be bogged down until spring. The satchel was not big, and Vella was forced to choose carefully the things she took with her. She folded up the clothes and slid them into the satchel. She added some coins left from her purse, and of course the potion bottle. She stood there over the satchel, and looking around taking mental inventory, tapping her toe impatiently. She could come back of course when she needed more of the potion. It would not be unusual for the Queen to be absent days at a time with no word, but again, upon returning she could settle any outstanding matters that might need her attention.<br/><br/>Vella moved to a window and opened the double-wide shutters, a cold wind gust forth. It was sunny and just about noon time outside now. She hefted the satchel estimating its weight, and looked out the window again. She puzzled over the problem briefly, and then came to a decision. She could not just walk out of the castle as she were, not risking the whispering rumors, and unlike other castles this one had no 'back door'. Vella made certain of it, not needing it and not wanting it used against her somehow. Her mind made up she called forth the magic and the dark incantations. Rather than transform to a crow, she chose a larger breed of bird, a blood raven, common to the mountains of the area. Her form shimmered and changed into this bird, large glossy black wings and strong talons. Off she flew from the window, satchel clutched in talons. Quickly she veered off to the right skirting the village, not wanting to draw any undue attention a blood raven clutching a satchel might garner. Satisfied she was far enough away but within reasonable walking distance, she swooped down towards the ground, not spying any travelers about the road leading to Arges. Within moments though it was only a heavily cloaked young woman, satchel in hand that walked up the road, and entered the outskirts of Arges.<br/><br/>Not long into Arges, Vella made her way through the muddy roadside, her way difficult but glad for the quality boots she brought with. A horse and wagon came rolling along its way through the mud only marginally easier. The man steering the wagon called out.<br/><br/><em>"Good day there pretty little lass! Hop on and I'll give you a ride where ever you'd like!"</em>Vella looked up at him, he was scruffy looking, unshaven and many years her senior, or at least how she appeared. His toothy grin and salacious emphasis on 'ride' and 'where ever' she would like, revealing his intentions, or rather hopes, clearly to Vella.<br/><br/>She only glared at him darkly, and without word, continued trudging on in the mud towards the village proper. The unpleasant man only cackled, whipped the horse and hollered forth a husky<em>"Ha!"</em>and the horse thankfully carried the man and wagon off.