Into the Goodnight

Dear Readers,

Hello again. I'm sorry I've been away so long, but hopefully this next story will make a good apology. It is based on my favorite fairytale, King Thrushbeard.

A little warning: future chapters will be submitted under the BDSM category...and possibly Romance, I haven't quite decided yet. Like all of my stories, there is a bit of a long lead into the erotica portion, but it does happen within this chapter, so that has to be a first. :) Also, I pretty much have the entire story written and mostly edited, so I should have all the story uploaded by the end of the month, so no long, torturous waiting on your part.

Thanks very much to my very talented editor, AlreadyTaken, who has dedicated many tireless hours to provided not only excellent editing skills, but provided so much needed reader feedback. Thank you!

And lastly, please comment and vote if you are so inclined. I always appreciate any feedback I get, whether good or bad, so please share your thoughts.

Enjoy!

Titania

*****

"It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness."

-Leo Tolstoy

Princess Aurelia was perfection. Famed the world over for unsurpassable beauty, it was a well-accepted truth that only the man of highest quality was worthy of her. Whether it was her studied posture, always posed to best display her sumptuous curves; her exquisite profile of contradictory features—both delicate and yet somehow bold; her skin of alabaster, smooth and creamy and glowing; or her striking green eyes so soothing and hypnotic people were known to forget their words, Aurelia was the epitome of femininity and radiant beauty.

But her hair was her crowning glory. It was of the rarest golden hue, lush and glossy, hanging in mesmerizing waves to her waist. It was of such startling beauty and often woven into such complicated plaits that it was held as beloved myth—especially to those of her kingdom of Orfeo—that it could be spun into skeins of gold. No other in all the land, before her or since, was a match for her perfection.

Alas, her beauty was the beginning and end of her thoughts. When she reflected on the best course of milk baths and salts for her skin, how to best maintain relations with her country's neighbors was never a cloud in her mind. Her beauty was of such gravity and complicated maintenance that considerations for all else, including the plights of her people, had no room left in her attention.

It was a similar musing that flittered through her brain as she lay nose-deep in her rose and milk bath, strategizing the last details of her wardrobe for that evening's ball. The castle was slowly growing in fervor in preparation for it, but Aurelia could not be bothered to give an ounce of thought to anything but how she would appear: that was of highest priority. After all, it was her engagement ball. Though, she cruelly smiled, she knew what answer she would make to the suitors.

Stepping out of the bath, a silent maid lifted the robe made from countless layers of diaphanous silk panels. Aurelia slipped her arms into it and proceeded to sit by the fire to absorb its warmth. The two maids designated to attend to her hair stepped forward and began combing out and drying the dauntingly long golden tresses. Nearly two hours later, they finally had it dry and began the arduous task of brushing it with the boar-bristled brushes. Once it shone like gold, they plaited it before weaving it up and placing a small tiara atop her head.

The day proceeded on with the innumerable tasks of readying a princess for a ball, and when she had finally been stitched and laced up into the last piece of her gown, her father burst through her chamber doors. He was already dressed in his finest clothes, but his purposeful manner and serious expression gave little hint of any vanity he might have possessed.

"Are you not yet ready?" he asked almost brusquely.

Aurelia's chin went a little higher as she regarded her appearance in the mirror, deciding if the outcome was a success. After a studious minute appraising her gown, she decided that she had never looked lovelier.

Her father, however, was unaffected. "Well?" he pushed irritated for an answer.

"Father," she addressed him at last, turning her cool green eyes to him in an unhurried fashion that never failed to vex him. "Is it possible that you still fail to appreciate the time that is required for a woman to ready herself for such events as tonight?"

"You know your appearance does not require half of what you give it," he countered exasperatedly.

"There you are wrong, for if one is to be beautiful, then one is obligated to be the most beautiful, or not attempt it at all. After all, where is the value of a pretty face if others surpass it?"

"But none do, do they?" he said, his tone clearly indicating his disappointment with the truth in that statement. "Your beauty is second to none."

"You say that as if my charms shame our house. I am sorry I was not gifted with the skills to rule and lead like your darling son, but please do not despise me for the few gifts I do possess."

"It is not your beauty that troubles me, but your unholy devotion to it."

"And where lies the wisdom of having beauty if only to neglect it? Do you wish to lower my station until I am beneath the common peasant? Is that why you have invited those slack-jaws here? To diminish my grace through marriage to one of them?"

"Now see here," the king responded, his annoyance turning grave. "Tonight is your betrothal ball and the best men of the surrounding lands have come to make an offer of the most sacred union. You will not embarrass me or our kingdom with your nauseating vanity and inflated pride. These are good men I have invited—the best—and a marriage with any one of them will be a beneficial bond for your kingdom. You would do well to remember that to offend them is to offend me," he warned.

Aurelia appeared unaffected by his words, turning back to further study herself in the mirror. "Though you clearly do not care that you have offended me by the mere suggestion that I marry one of those buffoons," she remarked archly.

"You. Will. Hold. Your. Tongue. Or it will be cut from your insolent head. Clearly I've spoiled you, but no longer," he declared with a deep breath in, his large frame standing a little taller as if he was coming to a dire decision. "You are to marry and that's to be the end of it. I expect you ready to present yourself as discussed. None of your excuses for tardiness." And with that last curt instruction, he turned on his booted heels and strode quickly from the room.

Aurelia only stared in dismal annoyance at her reflection, her pretty mouth down-turned and her pride seething. Though there was still an entire afternoon for her to survive, there was very little left for her to do. She would simply have to wait.

Thankfully, she was saved from her sour thoughts by a soft knock upon the door. Her maid opened it to reveal her twelve-year-old half-brother. Though he was just as much of his father's blood as she, he took more after his darker mother, with brown eyes and black hair. He was tall and gangly, and with hope, would fill out once he was a man like his father.

"Phillip," she greeted half-distracted, still contemplating herself in the mirror. The young boy walked in as she dismissed her maids.

The prince flopped on the white chaise, his cheek resting on his fist. He looked dejected as he watched Aurelia scrutinize her appearance. His forlorn demeanor caught her attention, and though she tried to focus on herself, she at last asked, "What causes you to look so wretched? You know I can't abide such an unpleasant expression."

He sat straighter. "Forgive me, I am only disappointed that I cannot attend the party this evening."

"Why would you wish to go to a ball? They are dull obligations with nothing of interest to little boys."

"But I hear King Goodnight will be in attendance. I should like very much to meet him."

Aurelia sat a little straighter, a fine eyebrow arching even higher. "Yes, I had heard as much. Why would you care to meet him?" she asked, a hint of disdain slipping out.

"Father has told me Goodnight is what all monarchs should strive to emulate, and that I could learn much from him in order to become the best king I can be. Do you know that he led his army against the northern invaders that swooped down to conquer when his father was in failing health? And he was just nineteen." Philip became more animated as he spoke. "And then, once he had vanquished those heathen, and his father had passed, leaving him king, he led his people to fight to reopen the ancient trade routes, regain their great wealth of old, making him the most powerful king around. Father says he had never seen such cunning leadership as Goodnight showed in—"

"Enough," Aurelia sighed harshly. "I do not care to discuss King Goodnight and his tireless virtues as king."

"I would think of all the guests he would be the one to interest you, most," Phillip answered thoughtfully, not fully understanding the ways of adults.

"Oh? And why is that?" she asked on a sigh, feeling a little tired and the evening still so far from being over.

"Father says you will be very fortunate to marry him. He says of all the hopefuls, Goodnight is the one man you do not deserve, despite your beauty, but he will hopefully have pity on you."

Aurelia was stunned into furious silence. King Goodnight was twelve years her senior, and for a little more than a decade, had been the ruling monarch of Meerkerk, leading his once struggling people back to strength and prosperity. And now, her little brother, who by gender alone made him fit to rule her country's throne instead of her, dared to repeat her father's accusations that she would be lucky to be the wife of such a king.

"I've heard enough. Leave, I've still yet to fully ready myself," she lied, turning back to the mirror to hide just how incensed his words had made her.

Phillip frowned, disappointed, but nodded once in obedience and left without a word. As Aurelia stared at herself, she vowed in her blackening heart to make King Goodnight pay for his nauseating and unattainable virtue.

"She is beautiful and therefore to be woo'd, she is a woman, therefore to be won.

"

-Shakespeare

Though the hours eked by, Aurelia played the large music box her mother had gifted her when she was five, a sweet and somewhat eerie melancholic tune. The lullaby helped her to find a calming center and prepare to fake all graciousness for the ball. She had arranged with her father to enter half an hour after the start of the ball. The signaling of trumpets would announce her arrival; silence would fill the air as royalty and the rich from surrounding lands crowded into the grand hall waiting for the herald to step forward and in sonorous tones announce her arrival.

And as Aurelia stood staring down at the gathering from the top of the mezzanine, the curtains having just been drawn back to reveal her stunning figure, she knew her plan had worked to best heighten not only her beauty, but the lore and experience that went with it. From the soft collective gasp of awe, she knew none who stood below her had ever seen a more breathtaking sight. Their responses proved the widely held belief that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Her father stepped forward at the bottom of the stairs, holding out his hand in showy invitation for her to join the party. She carried herself gracefully down the stairs, her cool green eyes never leaving her mesmerized audience. At the bottom, she placed her hand into her father's arm, and together, walked through the slowly parting crowd.

The king led her up the three steps of the dais where the queen awaited next to her own throne. An enormous bank of windows, which looked out upon the extensive royal gardens, was dark and glittery behind them. As the king and his daughter stood before the gathered assembly, the familial connection was visible by their cool golden complexion and hair, and green eyes like creamy jade. A moment of silence preceded the king's strong, booming voice.

"Kings, queens, ladies and gentlemen, good evening and welcome to the betrothal ball of my daughter, Princess Aurelia! We have gathered with us many fine suitors, one of whom my daughter will choose as her husband by the end of tonight." Here he paused for the uproar from the gathered monarchies and heads of state. Though none noticed, the princess stood a little taller, her body becoming a little more rigid at his words.

"Thank you for sharing in this special event, which I am certain will be the beginning of a strong union for our families and a happy union for my daughter. Therefore, please celebrate with us by enjoying yourselves and ring the room with merry! Let the ball commence!"

Music joined his words, swelling in a stirring fashion, people coalescing into partners that spread to dance around the ballroom. The king sat in his tall throne next to his wife as Aurelia sat at his left.

The first dance seemed to be in her honor, and she sat alongside her father watching the room swirl and move in complicated fashion. However, just before it ended, a young man walked to the bottom of the set of three stairs that led to the thrones. He stopped to speak with the man there, who in turn walked the steps to the king and announced his name, country, and position. The king nodded with a smile and turned to his daughter, relaying the same information and extending his hand, a silent request for her to accept his offer of a dance.

A small smile pulled at her lips as she nodded to her father and then stood gracefully. She made a controlled curtsy to the young man, a prince from one of their strongest allies. He was the middle of three sons and had always believed himself in love with the quiet and beautiful creature.

"Princess Aurelia, it is a great pleasure to see you this evening."

She held her smile as she rose from her bow. "Prince Sebastian, I know my father is quite pleased you have come to join us tonight," she replied, her voice low and smooth.

Sebastian felt her voice pour over him like a smoky liquor, dulling his senses while filling him with drowsy lust. The music stopped just as he extended his hand to her. Her touch was like a feather as they stepped out onto the dance floor and a new song began swaying the dancers on their feet.

Aurelia moved with grace and feminine athleticism, speaking with her body words she would never say.

"You dance divinely," Sebastian complimented.

"Of course I do. I have been subjected to lessons since I was seven," she replied evenly. "Which is quite fortunate so that I can dance gracefully regardless of my partner's skills," she stated cryptically. Sebastian tripped over a foot in surprise, but she smiled, seemingly oblivious to his unease.

"Yes," he agreed somewhat flustered. For the rest of their dance, he was so focused on his footwork that he had little mind left to attend to the princess. And before he knew it, his perhaps one chance at impressing her was over with little more passed between them than a comment on her grace.

Next she danced with a duke from her own kingdom. He was significantly older than her twenty-one years, significantly so, and it was to this flaw she played, slipping in a comment about him taking a rest if the strain of dancing became too much. She asked about events long ago in their country's history that she knew he wouldn't have lived through, but acted as if he had been there to witness it all first hand. She could tell by his manner that he had grown self-conscious about the gap between their ages, and when he returned her to her father, she smiled gently at him, asking that he do her a favor and go sit with the widowed women near the wall for he looked a little winded. It wasn't hard to twist the comments with her next dancing partner, who was rather portly, or the one after that who was quite short

Throughout the evening, she subtly kept her eyes out for the famed King Goodnight, but he never showed. At least, until she managed to slip away from the throng of people to the garden outside for a stolen moment of peace and quiet. The spring night air was cool, but refreshing, carrying with it the scent of early crocus blossoms and sweet rhododendrons.

Aurelia rested her hands on the smooth stone of the balustrade and breathed deeply, feeling the tension ease from her shoulders as she took in beauty she could not see. She was secluded now, in the shadow of the terrace where the lights from inside could not reach. And as the time of year was too cool for party-goers to enjoy the outdoors, the garden hadn't been lit beyond a few torches here and there.

In the dark, she closed her eyes and wished all the bodies in the grand hall would disappear, and yet she knew no such magic existed. She sighed, readying herself to return when a strange voice startled her.

"Good evening, Princess," a whisper that was forceful with a touch of groggy throat behind it.

The princess jumped before turning and exclaiming, "Heavens, you scared me!"

"Forgive me, it was not my intention to startle you," the strange voice continued. She at last looked at the person speaking, only to find she couldn't quite make out any detail. It was a man, most likely, given the very tall height and breadth of form and the hint of a deep voice through the whisper. She also thought he either had very long hair and beard or was else wearing a hood.

"If you meant not to frighten me, I wonder that you would approach me from behind in the dark in a secluded place," she countered, a little irritated with her unease. "And what is with your voice?" she asked rudely.

"I have caught a cold, I am afraid."

"Then please do stay away from me, for I do not want it," she responded. "Who are you, anyway? What are you doing out here?"

"I've come to see you, Princess. After all, tonight is the night you meet all of your suitors, is it not?"

Her eyes narrowed, her dislike of the man becoming almost instantaneous. She took a step forward to inspect the dark figure more closely, but was instantly put on guard by the powerful stench radiating from him. Taking a step back, she put an arm up to protect her delicate nose as she groaned, "Good grief! How can you claim to be a suitor when you reek of animal dung!"

"Forgive me, Princess, but I have just arrived from a month long hunting expedition with my men. I have not yet had an opportunity to bathe."

"And that excuses you to enter my presence in such a detestable state? And what of your appearance? Not only have you not bathed you also appear to have horrifically shaggy, unkempt hair, and a beard that I wager hasn't been groomed in weeks. A suitor? It would seem by your repulsive state you were not in earnest to win my hand. I should have you flogged before you are cast out of here," she added meanly. An inkling struck her then, as she realized there was only one anticipated suitor who she hadn't met. And despite her loathing to actually meet the man, she wanted to know if the pathetic, stinking tower before her was him. "Just which suit are you?"

"The only one that matters, I should imagine. Can you not remember me? We met when you were a small child."

Her nerves railed. "I fear you are mistaken, my lord, if that in deed is what you are, for all the men I would have considered I have already met and danced with, and I can assure you, you were not among them."

She waited, heart rate increasing and stomach flipping, for his reply to her obvious snub. His response did not fail to surprise her, for where she had expected an offended reaction or perhaps even anger, she received a hoarse chuckle.

"Don't care to be the wife of the most powerful king then, I take it?" he teased in that whispering, rasping voice.