Jon tip-toed out of the closet of the damned only to have his attempt at stealth greeted by huge shining blue eyes, a bouncing pony-tail, and the highest pitched screech he had ever heard.
"Oh-my-Gods-you-are-so-pretty-is-it-for-the-summit-I-bet-it-is-can-I-do-your-hair-now-oh-I-love-your-hair-I-hope-mine-is-as-beautiful-one-day-". Ok scratch that. Ivy was no longer cute. Jon would have taken Zoe's affected cool detachment over this gushing little girl, and gladly. But no doubt Allaria felt differently. Jon merely blushed at the 'compliments', while Allaria smiled and giggled.
"Of course it will be! Your hair is already beautiful, little mouse." Jon cringed at this more subdued but no less gushing response.
Ivy bowed her head shyly, falling backward to lightly plop upon Allaria's monstrous pink bed. "Not as beautiful as yours..." Ivy raised her eyes again, now furtive. "So can I?"
This was getting out of hand. He had to think of a course of action, something to distract Allaria and steer her into a less princessy scene. On the other hand...his hair was getting almost as obnoxious as the situation he'd found himself in. The bright yellow gold curtain of Rapunzel locks, now unbound, fell past his knees nearly to the floor. It caught in his clothes. It obscured his vision. It stuck to his lips...even with Allaria running co-pilot, he felt untamed slithering blonde tickling him practically everywhere. (The slutty costume Allaria had made him put on helped not at all in that regard, given how little it ultimately covered) He couldn't help but think that he'd actually trip on the stuff if left to his own devices. And wouldn't that just figure? Vacation opportunity of a life time begins with him turning into a fucking fantasy princess and ends with him tripping over her hair and breaking his neck. If his boobs didn't break his fall.
Alright, but make it quick.
"You may!" The Allaria filter turned his resignation to playful faux-formality. A proper older sister correcting her younger sibling's English. Or Elvish. Whatever. "Just remember, you cannot tarry too long. Mother will be most upset if you spend all day combing my hair when you should be attending to your lessons." So there was a time limit. Good. Maybe he could actually be alone, have some time to take stock and get used to...wait did he even want to get used to this?
"Yay!"
And so Jon plopped right next to his 'sister', equally girly, equally silly. His hair he meticulously gathered in one arm and tossed it over his shoulders, where it draped behind him on the bed like the train of an absurd wedding dress. There must have been almost five feet of the stuff, but Ivy proved deft and skilled. She brushed the sheets of blonde for what felt like an hour; scuttling up and down the length of the bed where her young arms had insufficient reach; chattering excitedly all the while about God knows what. Jon managed to keep his replies down to noncommital oneliners punctuated with fits of subdued giggling.
Ivy plopped back to the floor, Jon's hair presumably now straight, shiny, and free of tangles to her satisfaction. She skipped to Allaria's boudoir and returned with an arsenal of pins and combs to complete the do. It was the easily girliest thing Jon had suffered in over fifteen minutes, and he liked it not at all. But suffering the childish tug-of-war between his scalp and the child, with his hair as the rope, was a fair enough price to make every single thing he did less annoying. At last, Jon's scalp pinched to the point of near exhaustion, Ivy produced a hand mirror for Jon to admire herself in.
He had to admit...she'd done a good job. In practical terms his hair was far shorter and easier to manage. The complex series of braids Ivy had woven and piled atop the princess's head tamed enough that the loose parts now trailed only to his buttocks. Annoying, but less likely to kill him. And frankly...it looked good. Jon chose to see the stunningly beautiful woman in the mirror as someone else. Critically, he examined her smooth skin, long dark lashes, and flawlessly coifed hair.
"What do you think?" Jon braced his ears for the coming assault.
10/10. Would waifu.
"It is wonderful!
Screech. Defenses overcome.
He was saved from the sonic attack by the door to Allaria's chambers bursting open.
"There you are!" Came a stern, matronly scolding from another incredibly good looking, if older, elf woman that had just stepped in. She turned to Jon, bowed her head.
"Your pardon princess, but she is quite late for her studies."
"Awww!"
Jon and Allaria gave her a smile-softened, pitying look. "I did warn you"
"But-"
"Do as she says. Run along, little mouse." It was more of a perky growl than a command. "There will be time later. After the summit for a certainty!" Summit? Hadn't Ivy squealed something about that earlier? Apparently Jon hadn't necessarily inherited Allaria's memories. Though maybe that was a good thing.
"Oh!" The silver fox that was apparently Ivy's tutor or maid or something exclaimed. "Forgive me, Princess, but Her Majesty bid me remind you of the feast this evening. You are to be dressed suitably and on your best behavior."
Fuck. Karyn.
The older woman must have seen his frown. Her face softened into a smile. "All will be well, my lady." She said and, with that marched Ivy out the door...albeit not before the brat finally got her hug from Allaria. The feel of his giant tits squeezing against another person was more mortifying than could be relayed in words.
Jon was, at last, truly alone. And he had not the slightest intention of getting ready for whatever horrible royal ball Karyn had apparently arranged to embarrass him.
