Into the Goodnight

Aurelia quickly stood and gathered the clothing she had laid out as her pallet. Dragging the armful bundle next to him, she quickly remade her bedding, hoping if something out there was hungry, it would take the man who failed to protect her and pass her over. She used an extra dress to cover herself, but as she continued to stare into the night, the fear exacerbated the slight chill, and soon, the single covering wasn't enough to keep her warm.

"Maks?" her voice nothing but the smallest whisper. "Maks, I'm cold." She knew she sounded pathetic, but she was beginning to not care. She did care, however, when a heavy arm snaked out of the dark to wrap around her middle. She was instantly hauled against a firm body, tucked under his arm. "What are you doing? Unhand me!" she hissed, remembering to keep her voice down if indeed some animal prowled out there in the dark.

"You're cold, right? This is the best I can do to warm you up," he explained, still half asleep.

"This is unforgivable!" she whispered through clenched teeth.

"Unforgivable, or not what you prefer? There's quite a wide margin of difference between the two. When you exaggerate, you lose credibility, and when you overreact, you lose respect."

Aurelia ground her perfect teeth together as she scowled into the dark. "Thank you for that lesson. Now, will you unhand me?"

"I thought you were cold?"

She could feel the rumble of the words in his chest, pressed to her back. It was an odd sensation, the evidence of life in another person, experienced through touch. And strangely...alluring. Though she'd never admit it, there was something about being held that gave her a feeling she'd never before experienced, and so dignity gave way to the growing need to keep that feeling, if only a little while longer.

She sighed. "Yes, I am. This gown isn't enough to keep me warm."

"Then quiet down and relax," he suggested, his voice slipping from a conversational tenor to hushed tones that held a strangely soothing quality.

She hated him. She had to, she reasoned; it would be completely unfitting to find him even a little appealing. Completely. That was the last thought she had before the lulling warmth of his body drifted her off to sleep.

"Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time."

-Albert Camus

A body, upon waking, often acts without the still-dark and unconscious mind. It follows nothing but feeling, lacking all awareness and analysis. It moves with a primitive purpose and disregards sanity. At least that was what Aurelia fought to believe when she found herself the next morning, clutching Maks' shoulders as she allowed him to kiss her for the very first time.

It had started with nothing but desire, the first sensations of pleasure like a mouth full of fresh warm bread. Her eyes opened and were greeted by his dark, warm brown ones. In her sleep she had turned so they faced one another. His arm was still around her body, his hand pressing at her back, his warm breath caressing her face. Aurelia's green eyes dropped languidly to that wickedly curved mouth, and before any thought occurred to her, she tilted her face up in welcome, allowing his lips to graze over her own.

Her husband's lips were warm and soft. That was the only thought she was able to form before those very same lips began to move slowly and purposefully against hers. She had never been kissed before, but in his arms, with his mouth moving seductively over hers, it felt as if she had been born for that purpose alone. To allow Maks to kiss her.

And to kiss him back.

She wasn't aware of when she began following his gentle coaxing, moving her lips in synchronicity with his, but when she felt the first warm brush of his tongue against the seal of her lips, a hot shiver ran down her spine and she pulled away frightened. Aware.

"Morning, bud."

Aurelia put her hands against his chest, her eyebrows drawing together in displeasure. "How dare you!" she breathed, recovering her senses enough to begin prying her body from his grasp. She scrambled quickly to her feet. Aurelia brushed her hands hurriedly down her body, smoothing away the wrinkles brought on by the night and the tingles invoked by his kiss. She flipped her braid off her shoulder and lifted her chin high as she glowered down at him.

"Don't ever touch me again," she commanded through clenched teeth.

Maks leaned his temple against his hand, his elbow propping him up. Though she was seething with anger, he only narrowed his eyes at her, studying her, and then a small, almost indiscernible gesture of his head, as if he understood something unexpected about her.

It was there in those eyes, a confidence that seemed beyond mere vanity, but fully possessed of power and ability that completely unnerved her. How did her former station bear no weight on his demeanor? How did her title as princess fail to impress him? But in those dark eyes, she didn't feel like royalty, only...a woman.

Determined that he not see how his attitude affected her, she huffed through her flaring nostrils and turned to march off into the trees. She found a secluded place to relieve herself and find a moment of peace. When Aurelia returned, his roll was secured onto his bag and he sat on the log chewing food.

"Hungry?" he asked again, repeating the same question as the night before. She only flickered her gaze toward his outstretched hand but a moment, and seeing the same dried fish as the previous night, took a deep exasperated breath.

"No." She thought she heard a grunt of some sort come from him, but she was again refusing to acknowledge him until she realized his things were gathered, but not her own.

"I suppose you mean for me to repack my things once again?"

He tilted his head, as if to say only if she wished to take them with her. Clearly he was not her servant and his indifferent attitude confirmed his lack of appreciation of her elevated station that was her birthright. Huffing, she quickly dropped to her knees and refolded and rolled her clothes before stuffing them in her too-heavy bag. She was just securing the ties when he began walking back toward the path, leaving her to trail after him once more.

When they eventually emerged from the woods, he led her down a little path that branched from the main one, until they came upon the brook she requested to use. She knelt beside it, and when she had splashed the water on her dirty face, shrieked from the shocking cold.

Aurelia glared up at him when she heard his chuckle of amusement at her expense. "Perhaps I should have warned you; that water comes down from the mountain tops, there," he said, pointing off to the white tips just visible beyond the tops of the trees.

"I suppose if you had warned me," she ground out, glaring full force at him, "then you wouldn't have your petty pleasure at seeing me thus distraught."

He chuckled lightly until his features seemed to settle into a self-pleased smirk. "Perhaps," he conceded good-naturedly. "But it's refreshing, no?" He didn't wait for her reply, but walked to the water's edge and, kneeling down, scooped up several handfuls of water to slurp down.

Aurelia returned her attention to the water, splashing water once and then twice more, though this time with less reaction to the stinging cold. She then dug out a small satchel from her bag and pulled out a small vial. Just a drop, it was all she seemed to require of the cream colored liquid that flowed thickly out. Rubbing her fingers together, she caused it to foam up before rubbing it onto her wet face. She thoroughly washed every inch of her creamy skin for nearly two minutes. She then rinsed, again stilling herself against the bitter cold of the water. Once cleaned, she dabbed her face dry with a small drying cloth and then pulled out another small jar. This one contained a thicker, non-runny substance. Dabbing the tips of two fingers into it, again she rubbed the substance between her hands, perhaps warming it, and then applied it to her face, massaging it in until it disappeared.

"All done, then?" he asked, having taken note that she seemed finished as she only kneeled silently with her eyes shut.

At his voice, her body visibly sagged as she opened her eyes at him in annoyance. Clearly he had interrupted whatever mysterious thing it was she had been doing. "I suppose, if you're in such a rush."

"Aye, I am. We've still a far distance to cover before we reach home, and if you want to eat anything tonight, we'll need to make it in time before the markets close."

"Where is home, anyway?" she asked absently as she replaced her items in her bag.

"Clifftowne."

Her head jerked up at that. "Meerkerk! You're from Meerkerk?" she exclaimed at hearing him name the capital of that most-hated country. She looked stricken, her eyes filled with panic. Aurelia began shaking her head as her mouth set in determination. "No. Absolutely not. I am not going there. I will never live in Meerkerk."

Maks' eyes narrowed to sharp slits. His head made that small turning gesture, as if he were analyzing her. "Why?"

Aurelia's lips pursed as she looked away and crossed her arms. For a moment, it seemed as if she had no intention of answering, but eventually she spoke. "Because he will never be my lord."

"Who?" Maks asked slowly.

She didn't want to say his name. She didn't want to think about him. She growled as her hands fisted at her side. "Goodnight. He will never be my lord."

Maks continued staring at her with that dark, determining look. For a moment she thought he was about to command her to set aside her foolishness, but in the end, he simply grunted. An expression of almost-amusement subtly shifted his features as he stated, "I'm sorry to tell you, but the moment you agreed to be my bride you accepted him as your lord. The king of the country I live in becomes your king, too."

Aurelia covered her face with her hands and growled loudly once more until she was almost screaming. "This is completely unfair! I refused to marry him so I would have nothing to do with him and now cruel fate has made me a peasant in his kingdom."

Maks sighed as he began moving again. "It isn't so bad. King Goodnight is an excellent king. He cares for his people and the country has never been so peaceful or prosperous," he boasted.

Aurelia stood and hauled her heavy bag across her back once more, almost groaning at the pain it quickly elicited. Her shoulders had become tender by the end of yesterday, and already the short time they had walked that morning had made them near raw. She didn't know if she could last the full day. The pain and the new, unpleasing information quickly soured her mood.

"Prosperous? And you are now just a lowly begging musician? I'd hate to see what you'd become in a country not so well off," she snarked.

Maks did turn at that, his gaze indicating her comments were crossing the line. "I have my reasons for this life. Watch your tongue. Do not to forget to address me with the respect due as your husband. And you most certainly may not disrespect our king."

Aurelia simply rolled her eyes and looked away until he turned and continued on their way. The pace he set was grueling, but he didn't walk faster than she could tolerate. What had been strained and fatigued the day before was now achingly obvious, and each step was agony. Not only did her body ache and burn with the exertion, but her stomach was so empty it nearly cramped with hunger. More than once she thought she would faint from the light headed sensations that came at her in waves.

Thankfully, he stopped again just after the sun had reached its zenith. They had come upon a small brook that swiftly churned and wound off into the distance. There were large stones that made for convenient sitting places.

Not requiring an invitation, Aurelia headed straight away to the water's edge, and sitting on one of the smooth, flat rocks, reached over into the water. She prepared herself beforehand for ice-cold temperatures so as not to look a fool. The water was indeed cold, but so refreshing as she gulped it down. Once her thirst was quenched, she seemed to remember herself and sat back quietly with some amount of decorum.

She watched silently as Maks eased himself next to her and followed suit in drinking liberally from the fresh water. He then leaned back against a rock and lifted his arms over head. Stretching his legs out beside her, he turned to reach into his bag and pulled out once again the last of the bread and two strips of the fish.

He looked at her, those dark eyes making her uncomfortable a moment. "Hungry?" he asked.

Aurelia clenched her jaw, her lips pursing at the untenable situation she found herself. She might have said no, just to prove some point, but her stomach chose that very moment to growl with ferocity that made him smirk. With a huff she said, "Yes," and held out her hand to receive the humble offering. She glared maliciously at him as he handed over the last of his food.

Despite herself, she ate almost ravenously, the hunger she had fought hard to ignore swelling up in one more powerful wave of nausea. When the first several mouthfuls were down and the sharp edge of her starvation diminished, she was able to slow down and present a more dignified demeanor.

As they were positioned facing each other with his legs trapping her against the edge of the stream, she found their gazes meeting more than she cared. Lifting her chin and taking a deep, soothing breath, she looked off to her left, across the little brook and down into the long, low valley that opened wide and spacious before them. It was carpeted with such a vibrant green from the newly sprouted spring grass, and though the day was warming tolerably, there was just a hint of sweet coolness to the breeze that floated up to meet them. The land she viewed was peaceful and so beautiful it was almost heartbreaking. And off in the far distance she could just make out the line of the sea that formed the far eastern border of the country. And upon its high cliffs was the form of a village and castle towering above it all.

And it all belonged to King Goodnight.

Aurelia's chest expanded as her chin dipped in displeasure. She felt Maks' piercing gaze and as her eyes lifted to his, she felt a flush spread over her cheeks. A scowl marred her pretty features as she brooded over his ability to seemingly invade her mind with that stripping stare. She'd never felt so powerless in all her life.

When they'd both finished their small meal and drank their fill of the water once more, they were on the road descending into the valley. Throughout the day, Aurelia was struck by the life of the commoners she witnessed along the way. She frowned more than once at the meager lives that worked in the fields or herded stock. She had experienced so little contact with them before, and always only in the confines of the throne room, that to see them in their own habitat was as discomforting as it was fascinating.

Aurelia noticed the closer they drew to the capital of Meerkerk, the denser the population became. "Where are all the soldiers?" she asked after the third village they passed through. The absence seemed glaring to her. How did Goodnight maintain peace if there were no soldiers?

"Soldiers do not govern the people here. Peace is kept by the local magistrate. If it is an offense against the crown, the criminal is handed over to the High Marshal to be tried at the royal court," Maks explained.

"No soldiers?"

"If the function of soldiers is to defend the crown against enemies, then the act of soldiers also policing the people would seemingly make the very citizens it is meant to protect also an enemy of their own state. King Goodnight believes to have true freedom, it must be free of oppression or even the appearance of oppression. Soldiers protect the kingdom from foreign threat. They do not enforce the law over the people. And it is that principle that makes our king an excellent ruler."

Aurelia made no verbal response to her husband's lofty praise of his king, but her jaw clenched and her lips pursed as she turned her attention to their slowly passing surroundings.

The experience of entering Clifftowne was a mixture of awe at the grandness of the city walls, parts of which were still under construction, and resentment that she was now living under the protection and rule of Goodnight. Perhaps she would have fought a little harder to not marry this man had she realized he was a citizen of Meerkerk.

She was impressed by the cobbled streets and found the way all the buildings touched and were stacked upon each other to be a strange, unique way of organizing themselves. In the village surrounding her own castle, everything was freely spaced with plenty of grass-covered land. Here, the pace of life seemed a little faster, a little more harried, though not with duress, only exuberant industry. There was a constant clatter of shoed horses prancing about, calls of sellers and buyers in the various markets, and lively laughter from children from around every corner.

At some point, they turned off the main thoroughfare they had entered on, and then several more winding turns until Aurelia was almost lost. All the houses they passed were connected, almost as if they were one large building that ran on and on, doors and windows every so often indicating a new section, a separate home for some miserable lot.

The sun was setting, but not so low as to be gone from the sky. However, she noticed they were cast in shadow as they walked along. When she looked up, her heart nearly stopped as she realized they were in the shadow of the castle that sat on the high rise of the cliff. Her stomach burned that she should end up so close to the palatial home she had once rejected. Was she never to escape the persistent reminder of Goodnight and her lot in life?

"A mode of conduct, a standard of courage, discipline, fortitude and integrity can do a great deal to make a woman beautiful."

-Jacqueline Bisset

"This is it. Home," Maks announced as they came to a stop in front of a small door that was rickety with age. The outside was not much different from the rest of the houses, perhaps a tad more neglected. Though she didn't outright recoil from the appearance, her unease was evident in the downward turn of her mouth.

"Come on," he said, opening the door and walking inside.

Slowly she followed him in, any optimism or hope quickly fading as she began to take in the small quarters, dim and dusty. Not just dusty. Dirty. Dismal. Her heavy bag slid from her shoulder with a depressing flump to the floor.

What furniture there was, was dilapidated and shabby. The small kitchen area was on the right hand of the square-ish room and held a round table and two rickety-looking chairs. She feared they were so weak they wouldn't even uphold her weight let alone her strapping husband. Two windows—the only ones in the house—were positioned on either side of the front door and were shuttered, though there were glaring gaps in the slats of wood, indicating cold winter winds would easily find their way in. A small fireplace sat on the back wall facing the door.

And on the left side of the room was a bed shoved against the wall. It was in no way near as large as her own luxurious four poster bed at home, but at least it would be spacious enough to sleep two of them. She shuddered at the thought of sleeping next to the man every night the rest of her life.

Perhaps she could run away, she groused miserably to herself.

"It's a hovel," she said in disgust. When she turned to look at him, he was giving her one of those unnerving stares.

"If you don't like it, clean it up," he suggested in a near growl.