Into the Goodnight

Her spine stiffened even more, and though he could not see the fire growing in her green eyes she ensured he more than understood her ire when she spoke. "There you are correct, sir, for what glory comes in being nothing but a prize for a cattle-brained warmonger, no matter how successful? Whatever the honor, I assure you, I want none of it. Be your queen?" she continued on, heat growing in her rant.

"In as much as you have garnered the respect and awe of your fellow ruling men, my father and little brother included, you have yet to capture my interest as a husband. And how could you? I am the most sought after woman in the world and you come to me smelling worse than a filthy stable and looking like a lunatic from the wild. Who cares how well you guide your people if I cannot stand to be in your presence? I am the most desirable woman in all of history, and you? You are not worthy of me." Her voices shook with rage as she stood tall and proud before the disgusting man.

He was quiet a moment before he responded softly. "I see," he whispered. "I came to discover whether or not you would be suited as my queen, and I suppose I now have my answer. I shall take my leave then. Good evening, Princess."

Her stomach churned as she watched the mysterious figure recede into the darkness, never having clearly seen his face. She hated the man, though she had never met him, at least, not to her memory. And hopefully, she would never see him again.

Aurelia took her time gathering the composure that had gone up in the flames of her indignation. When she felt her tranquility had returned, she rejoined the throng of merrygoers, her eyes now warily watching for the presence lurking in the dark.

The unexpected appearance of the man she most wished to avoid only worsened her already soured mood. Where she had initially been disposed to being charming and coy, if not a little aloof, she now felt razor-sharp daggers grow in place of her nails and she was raging to slice through anyone.

Unfortunately, her change of mood coincided with the glorious summation of the evening, in which her father called her forth, a large but worry-filled smile planted on his face. The crowd stopped dancing, and a low murmur filled the grand room, speculation flying in whispers of which suitor had won her heart.

The confrontation with King Goodnight had only increased her resolve, and as she advanced through the parting crowd, with her eyes trained on her father who waited at the dais, one thought alone stuck in her mind: she would subject herself to no man, for no man was worthy.

When she took her place at the top of the steps so the room could see her, the king turned to address the crowd once more. With great pomp, he thanked everyone for the joyous merriment of the evening and called for the men who were to officially request the hand of the princess. All the men, even the duke whose ambition had almost melted in the heat of her scrutiny, stepped forward in a line, unified by purpose alone, each hoping he would be the chosen man. Fear quivered in each of their hearts.

The king eyed them seriously, and when the silence had satisfactorily built up the anticipation, he spoke in a booming voice. "Do you extend an offer of marriage to the princess Aurelia and through your bond with my daughter affirm to uphold a treaty of peace between our great families, and to support this seat of rulership whenever aid should be called for?"

Each in turn stepped forward and answered, their voices sometimes clear and strong, sometimes cracking under the weight such a declaration, but all in the affirmative. When the last young man had given his vow, the king noticeably eyed the men in search of one particular person.

"And where is King Goodnight to make his offer?" he called loudly to the crowd, as if expecting Goodnight to emerge and join the line of suitors. But when he made no appearance, the whispers of the speculating crowd rose until a clear voice silenced them.

"King Goodnight has already made his intentions known," Princess Aurelia answered for not only her father's benefit, but also the congregation who had come for the very purpose of witnessing such a union.

The king, appearing momentarily dumbfounded, seemed to recover enough to investigate his daughter's claim. "And? What response did you give him?"

There was a collective inhalation of breath throughout the gathered assembly, all waiting with baited breath for her reply. With cool green eyes, the princess scanned the rapt faces of the guests. She could see hope and excitement in their eyes as they waited for her happy announcement. The right corner of her mouth twitched up.

"I rejected him." Her shocking declaration was firm, and the expression on her face indicated just how much pleasure she took in rejecting the famed king and disappointing the crowd.

A collective gasp, followed by a quickly growing murmuring rose from the crowd, until the king managed to recover and question her. "Rejected? Goodnight? Then if not that man, which of these before you have you chosen?"

Aurelia's stunning eyes scrutinized the men before her, noting how each puffed his chest, lifted his chin, and attempted a noble baring. But none were worthy of her, that much was clear to her, and so she gave the only answer possible.

"I choose..." the crowd leaned in, silence filled all space to an almost deafening pitch, "none of these men."

Again, the shock of her words was almost palpable, and a long moment passed before any response was had from the people. As each suitor blinked in surprise and then looked at each other, the king finally snapped out of his shock-induced stupor to sputter.

"What do you mean 'none of these men?' These are your choices, daughter, and one of these will be your husband. There will be a betrothal before this evening is over."

"Not with me, I can promise you that," she continued to deny her father.

The disrespect evident in the princess' manners was not lost on anyone present, and the assembly that had been gathered to celebrate a union now waited in the awkward silence that followed.

"You will not pick? Then I will pick for you," the king threatened.

"It is unlikely that any of these men will wish for me as a wife now that I have publicly rejected them. After all, I did not do it out of coyness," she stated, turning her cruel eyes on the poor men who had been so hopeful at the onset of the evening. "I did it because not one of them is worthy of me. They are all of them fools for thinking they could win my affection. They are either too fat or too ugly or too old or too weak. Waste my beauty on one of them? Not any of them."

The king, enraged by the pompous, embarrassing speech of his daughter bellowed his retort. "Then if not these, then I choose Goodnight!"

And here, the princess finally turned those cold green eyes on the king, and he, for a moment, understood what icy fear must live in the broken hearts of the suitors. "I have already rejected him to such an extent that it is unlikely he will ever return to our kingdom, let alone wish to renew the offer of marriage to me. Do no fool yourself, father, if I do not wish it, it will not happen."

And with that, Aurelia marched down the steps and into the crowd, the people parting as she made her way through.

"If you do not marry one of these men, then you will wed the next beggar who comes to the castle gate. Or risk death!"

His roaring threat stopped her midstride. Slowly, she turned back, her breath caught in her throat. But as she gazed on her father, her previous indignation only burned into fury. She would cower to no one.

"So be it," she snarled, and turned back dramatically, the full skirt billowing behind her as she quickly strode from the room.

"Beauty is the promise of happiness."

-Stendhal

"Beauty always promises, but never gives anything."

-Simone Weil

It was a week after the ball that Aurelia found herself reclining in the large window seat of her room, the glass panels open to allow the warm, late-spring breeze to brush against her cheek, when her maid came rushing through the door.

"Pardon the interruption, your highness, but his majesty requests your presence. I-immediately," she stammered, clearly flustered and nervous. Her trembling hands were clasped agitatedly before her, her eyes downcast in fear. Though the princess had instilled a healthy amount of respect in her servants, she raised her eyebrow in curiosity at the maid's new display of subjugation.

She sighed, a little bored, a little put out, and stood to comply. The guests had quickly vanished from the halls the day after the failed betrothal party, and an insulating quiet had settled, almost unnervingly, in the marbled rooms of the palace. Since her refusal and subsequent falling out with favor, her father hadn't allowed her in his presence, banishing her to her quarters. She wondered what he wanted, and decided as she studied her appearance in the mirror that she would only forgive him if his forthcoming apology were made a public declaration. And maybe a feast in her honor.

Murmured voices could be heard from the other side of the door as she approached the official throne room. Aurelia leaned ever so slightly forward in effort to overhear something, but all she could discern was muffled mention of 'she' and 'choice' but nothing more definitive to hint at the purpose of the summons. She unlatched the double doors and let them glide smoothly open, revealing her to the room and its occupants.

She quickly saw her father standing at the foot of the stairs that led up the dais to the thrones, her step-mother and a rather dark and vaguely dressed man standing nearby. For the first time in many years, a wariness clouded her eyes as she silently regarded them. But the moment of unease was short lived, and with a highly held chin, she approached the trio.

Coming to stand before her father, she gave a deep nod of her head. And though it was generally accepted as a gesture of deference, her ever-present bearing was such that she appeared no more subjugated for the movement. And as always, her demeanor riled her father's temper.

"I am pleased you have come, Aurelia, for I've someone to introduce you to. This man here is a musician, come to play for a coin," he announced.

Her cool green eyes slid to the stranger, her brain instantly understanding her father's meaning. Her thick, black lashes blinked in dismay. The man returned her scrutiny, his dark brown eyes penetrating and unaffected by her beauty and position. He was clean shaven, with a strong jaw and sensuously curved lips. She blinked, startled at the thoughts her observations were eliciting. Her gaze sprang back to his eyes, and for a moment she was held captive, a niggling at the back of her brain itching in some sort of misplaced memory.

"Father," she stated firmly, regaining her composure as she turned her attention back to the king and away from the unsettling man at her side. Her plan was to cut her father off before he could even suggest what she knew he was thinking. "I'd rather not hear a tangle-fingered vagabond attempt production of beauty through music, as such a special gift is clearly not only above his thick-browed ken, but also his station. If you've nothing else to discuss with me, I will take my leave." Again the self-composing head nod, but this time, her aloof gesture was interrupted by the king's bellow.

"I will not stand for this! This effrontery! This impudence! This discourteous manner with which you have chosen to greet the world! I swore on my honor to put an end to it and I up hold that promise today; you will marry this man or so help me it will be your death!" he shouted as he took a step toward her, his condemning finger pointed at the dark stranger.

Aurelia's eyes widened before she could school her features. Though a fine tremor had begun in her chest she argued her side. "Father, please be reasonable. You do not mean to give your only daughter away in marriage to a..." she turned to look at the quiet man, "a...a commoner, do you? And not even a commoner. A pauper!" she questioned with a flourish of her hand at the man who was to be her husband. A sneer of disgust lifted one side of her perfect mouth before she turned away, her hands waving in the air as she ranted.

"I understand I may have acted...cavalier at the ball. Embarrassed you in front of all the guests because of my refusal to choose any of the so-called suitors, but really, Father," she admonished incredulously, turning back to him once more now that she was several steps away, "you can't intend for me to be tied to...that. If my behavior embarrassed you then, just think of how shamed you will be when your daughter is lowered to the status of a cadgemonger!"

"Bite your tongue, you preening, empty sack of silk. You have disgraced this family long enough!"

"Disgraced?" she repeated with growing offense. "How for is my beauty, known the world over, a disgrace? Have you not told me since I was a child that only the greatest king would be worthy of me? And now?" she regarded the newcomer indignantly. "Now you are trying to pawn me off onto a vagrant because no such king exists, does he? No man is worthy of me and because I had the audacity to make that fact known, you are punishing me!"

"You will marry, or you will die," the king stated, his deadly threat supported by the timely arrival of the official executioner. He stood to the edge of the room dressed in a black version of the standard royal guard uniform, an intimidating axe in his hands, bringing with him a tension that hadn't been present before.

The small tremor of fear that the princess had begun to feel some minutes earlier was now growing in amplitude, causing her shoulders to visibly shake. She turned tearing eyes to her step mother who attempted to appear unmoved, though her brow angled with concern. But she could only turn her face away from the princess in denial of any aid.

"Father, please, don't make me do this," Aurelia whispered looking back to him. For once, with her façade of confidence fallen away, her self-certitude melted into an expression of pleading. And for one brief moment, the old man faltered as the sharp angles of disdain in her features thawed away, revealing her true beauty. Aurelia took a desperate step towards him, her hands clasped at her heart. The movement brought his eyes to the emerald ring she wore, a memento from her loving, gracious mother, a quick reminder of what the princess had turned into and his purpose there that day.

The king's features hardened up. "Your choices are given to you, daughter. Choose now."

Aurelia's spine straightened, her chin dipping into gathered hostility before rising imperiously high in an unbroken spirit. "Very well. I'm to marry this man. And then what? To leave here for good?" At the king's nod, she drew in a steadying breath. "Then at least allow me to gather my things and change into a suitable dress."

Her jaw was clenched in determination as she once more looked to her would-be husband. She said nothing as her eyes slid over him appraisingly. Despite the tall and well-built figure, all she saw was the drab and well-used clothing that clearly marked him as nothing more than tramp. He was to be her future, but she wasn't about to allow his status determine her own, that much was clear in her cold and piercing eyes. Without further words, she turned from the small assembled group and headed to her room.

Her maids were standing dutifully at her doors and opened them as she approached. They followed quickly as she marched into her chambers. Entering her spacious closet, she began plucking gowns and tossing them at the alarmed girls with orders to pack the frocks in her three largest traveling trunks. It only took her a moment to decide on her wedding gown.

It was over an hour later when the king sent yet another servant up to the princess' quarters with instructions to drag her down to the ceremony. Satisfied that as much as possible was packed away in her trunks, and another large bag besides, she took her precious time slowly proceeding to the throne room. When the double doors opened for her arrival, the king took one look at her and roared in anger.

"What is the meaning of this!"

She made no reply and had no indication she was walking toward anything other than a funeral. Dressed from neck to wrists in black taffeta, with a veil of black across her eyes, Aurelia moved toward the royals, the stranger, and the priest dressed in gold and red. The silent groom gave something of a muffled chuckle, and though she wasn't certain, thought she witnessed a quick smile.

"You will go back and change at this moment!" the king demanded.

"Why? I am marrying a beggar, what could it possibly matter what I wear?" she responded unfazed by his bluster. "Now, shall we get on with this?" she asked, her manner appearing bored, as if she were simply hearing a request that the shades be drawn in the morning, and not attending her marriage to a stranger who would completely alter the course of her life.

The addlepated priest, a man of such general confusion and fear of the monarchs, frantically looked back and forth between daughter and father. The king sighed, having long ago learned his daughter did what was not expected, even when she complied with his order.

"Very well. Priest, get on with it," he commanded, turning to the nervous little man with robes that seemed to swallow up his slight figure.

"I-is this a-alright? Her dress I-I mean? I-It is qui-ite i-iregular. Possibly e-even sacrilegious," he stuttered, suddenly wondering if such a rule existed on the color of gown the bride should wear.

"Don't be ridiculous," the princess snapped. "There is nothing more fitting than black for a forced wedding upon the threat of death. Isn't that right, father dear?" her words laced with vitriolic sugar.

The priest's swallow was audible, turning all eyes back to him as his shaky hands quickly thumbed through the fat book of celebrations and ceremonies. Throughout the short ceremony, all eyes were trained on the bumbling, tottering priest, except for the silent groom who covertly watched his bride-to-be. Though she wore an expression of hard-edged malice with overtones of cool indifference, he caught a flicker of something else in her eyes every now and then.

Aurelia was occupied with plotting either a way out or a way of revenge, either on her father or the man she was marrying, when the priest addressed him, calling him by his given name, Magnus. And when the stranger was asked to repeat his vows to honor, love, and protect Aurelia, she heard his voice for the first time.

Despite her determination to make the man's life hell for ever showing up at the castle doors, she couldn't stop the shivers his deep voice provoked. For a moment, she was caught up in the sensations, and when the priest asked for her to repeat after him, she had to blink back into the present. She covered her blunder well enough, passing it off as reluctance to comply, and no one seemed to notice, until she turned to look into the dark eyes of the man she was marrying. There seemed to be a glimmering hint that he was aware the hesitation wasn't an obstinate act, even if he didn't know exactly the cause of her distracted thoughts.

She stood next to him, extending her lovely hand as she might to a groveling peasant, her cool gaze staring down her arm at him. His eyes never left hers as he took her ring finger and slipped on the simple band of gold. Aurelia held her hand out to examine it and blinked in reaction. The ring appeared worn and a little tarnished. Her upper lip curled in contempt. Was it a used ring?

"Where did this lovely little thing come from?" she asked, her hand dropping back down at her side as she evenly regarded her husband. Her stomach clenched as a wave of nausea rose up at that thought. Her husband. She swallowed down the bile. What amusement had glittered in her cruel eyes faded as the gravity of her new station in life began to settle on her shoulders.