Into the Goodnight Ch. 04

He couldn't contain his smile. "I won't be gone more than ten days. The wall is near completion now, and I have the opportunity for such a venture as you are requesting. But I must go in person and see about it. You will be fine here on your own, will you not? Or if you prefer, I do believe Miriam has mentioned that you can stay at the castle in the servants' quarters if ever you needed to."

Aurelia nodded thoughtfully, before replying. "I should think I will do well on my own. It is one thing to work in the castle, quite another to actually sleep there. Ten days?" she repeated, a little dejected at the long span of time without him. But then was caught alight with whatever prospect he was looking into. Something different. Something with a little more freedom or opportunity for...she scrunched her lips thoughtfully, not certain what she would be good at doing. She sighed and smiled in the end, a wave of utter contentment washing over her.

Aurelia's smile was soft and full of irony. "So strange," she murmured, her eyes caressing the contours of her husband's face. One of his brows raised in question. "How my life has changed, and yet...I am not for the worse. Isn't it strange that I've gone from princess to pauper's wife, from spending hours on my beauty to slaving scrubbing pots, friendless to...many friends? Miserable and vain to happy...and still just as beautiful," she conceded with a light chuckle, teasing at her own expense.

Maks reached across the corner of the table to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing gently. He shook his head solemnly, "No, more beautiful than ever." A bubble of laughter rose in her throat at his gest, but it stalled when she saw the sincerity in his eyes.

Once they had retired to bed, she responded immediately to Maks' seduction, opening herself to him, receiving the worship he offered. And it seemed to her, as she lay panting on her husband's chest that despite all they had been through together, that was their most intense coupling. As her heart slowed, she pulled the experience apart, analyzing it for its hidden secrets. In the end, she decided that her acceptance of her situation in life, the contentment that she had felt wash over her freed her mind to understand what her heart had felt for so long now.

In reflex, her arms tightened around him, her chest aching as if her heart might break through her ribs. "Maks," she whispered almost strangled. But he gave no acknowledgment that he heard her. His own chest rose and fell with such slow measured rhythm, she suspected he was already asleep.

"I love you."

"Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work."

-Aristotle

In the morning, the sun not yet visible though the sky was turning from black to blue, Maks left her at the gates of the castle, a soft kiss and a parting promise to see her soon. The day stretched out interminably long for Aurelia, as she knew Maks would not be there in the evening to escort her home. But somehow she managed to keep the doldrums away as she worked extra hard, hoping her servitude there would not last beyond two more weeks. And much to her chagrin, as she worked the entire length of the day, she had no opportunity to go to the market to buy any food. If she wanted any supper for herself, she would need to continue storing scraps from the king's table.

That evening, she stopped in to see about Hilma and get a report on the communal kitchen. The old woman was tired, but very happy for the company, she even had two coins to give Aurelia from the proceeds of the yarn she had managed to spin and sell. She updated her on the success of the kitchen, and hinted that interest had begun to develop in other neighborhoods, but as it would be too far to walk every day, perhaps each district should open their own little kitchen. But it was only talk at the moment.

Aurelia fell asleep that night, lonely but content. In the morning, she arrived at the castle to find the air stirred with something new. All the servants seemed to be bustling more than normal, and when she finally found Blythe, the excited woman promptly explained the cause for the excitement: the king was to be married.

Aurelia was happily married to Maks, the best man possible. She was content with the life she was now living. She had only spoken with the king once, and he had been very offensive at the time, at least in appearance and smell. So given all that, why did it feel as though she had been punched in the stomach? She nodded understanding at the fellow servant and then walked straight for the basin in the little washroom she worked, her hands immediately latching onto the sides, knuckles white, to keep her standing on shaky legs.

Why?

She loved Maks, she knew that, unequivocally, with all her heart. So, whence this pain? She smiled bitterly. It wasn't for lost love for the king, it was for a lost life; a life that could have been—should have been—had she not destroyed her rights to such a life with her own repellent behavior. Her jaw tightened.

That life was lost to her now, but she would fight tooth and nail to protect what happiness she could have with Maks. With her mind resolved to bury the bitterness and guard her heart, she forged ahead with her duties.

The week carried on, seeming at the same time both slow in passing and rushing by. In preparation for the great celebration that was to take place within the fortnight, guests from all over began arriving, stirring a strong sense of familiarity as Aurelia had already experienced such an unnerving event once: her own engagement party. But instead of being confined to her room for hours of preparation for her appearance, she now was part of the troop with the daunting responsibility for the success of the event.

At some point, she realized that many of the guests attending King Goodnight's wedding celebration would have been the very same who attended her own engagement ball. A very disconcerting thought, indeed. It was one thing to reconcile her low station with herself and those close to her in this new life, it was quite another for those who formerly knew her in the elevated position of royalty to look upon her now that she was about as low caste as one could be. With that thought, she did her very cleverest to avoid the risk of being so exposed.

Blythe was only a middling amount of help in the matter. She was so very excited to see all the distinguished guests that she happily took any chore that required leaving the kitchen, but then in her giddiness, she was forever telling Aurelia of the latest dignitaries to arrive, many whom Aurelia knew. With each passing day she managed to avoid any incident, though she felt a small amount of relief, the strain also grew until she was weary with the work.

"Aurelia, you have one last task before you are to leave this evening," Miriam stated, catching the tired young woman off guard.

"How may I help?" she responded, intrigued that she was asked to do anything beyond her regular chores.

"The servant who usually tends to the king's evening meal is unavailable. And as the rest of the servants are tending to all the guests, that leaves you to serve his majesty dinner."

Her heart stopped. "Serve the king? Me?" She waited for Miriam to laugh, to apologize for her cruel little joke, but her solemn expression did not relieve her dread. "I can't."

"You will."

Aurelia stammered, her mind racing to find a justifiable excuse. "But my clothes! I am not presentable. I couldn't possibly serve the king. Surely, Blythe—"

"There is no one else. But you are quite right, you are not presentable. Not yet," she acknowledged, her gaze sliding down Aurelia. "Follow me."

Aurelia's feet wouldn't move, her mind struggling to grasp the horror to come. Miriam turned once she was out the door, a brow arching at her hesitance. Mindlessly, Aurelia began to follow the woman through the castle, up the stairs to the sleeping chambers of guests and family. Her stomach was lurching inside, forcing her to take deep breaths through her nose to calm her frazzling nerves.

When they stopped outside a sleeping chamber Aurelia knew was not the king's, she was at a loss as to what was to happen next. Two chamber maids greeted them at the doors, bowing their heads. Aurelia recognized one, but didn't know either of their names. They gently took her by the hand and escorted her into the room. Apprehension shook her frame, but she numbly allowed them to do what they must. A bath, topped with a thick lather of bubbles had been drawn and waited steaming for her.

"What is this?" She wanted to pinch herself for such a stupid question. It was obviously a bath and obviously meant for her. She was to be washed thoroughly before serving the king his food. With a certain amount of unease, she allowed them to undress and bathe her.

It was not lost on her how perverse it was that she should be unhappy to bathe. And what's more, how ironic that she should be the one who needed the bath, when at their last meeting it was the king who was not fit to meet her. The warmth of the bath and their gentle hands were mildly successful in allaying her stress. Much to her surprise, as she sat drying before the fire, one combed her hair thoroughly before taking shears to it.

"That should help it grow out nice and evenly," the maid stated satisfied with the trimming. They then helped her dress in a soft moss-green dress and cream colored slippers.

"Now what?" she questioned no one in particular as she sat looking at uncertain self in the mirror.

"I believe the king's food should be ready in his antechambers," one of the answered gently.

Aurelia still felt disoriented from the coming prospect of facing the man who she once considered her nemesis, but managed to give something of a gracious nod of thanks to the two woman who had thus far assisted her.

The heavy, cumbersome dinner tray was as the maid had said, waiting on a table in the outer room of the king's chambers. With her arms full, Aurelia stared a moment at the dark, ancient wooden door of the king's bed chamber and took a deep breath.

She knocked softly in curtesy, but did not wait for an answer, hoping on a thin thread that he would not be there, that she could slip in, deposit the food, and escape unseen. The room was grand, perhaps even more so than her own quarters back in her home country. The great fireplace was lit and cast a fair amount of light to illuminate most of the surroundings, but it was still dim and shadows hung heavy like expensive drapes. She scanned the space quickly, and spying the table meant for his meals, she set the tray down as quietly as possible. She was turning to leave, a burst of exhilaration that nothing mortifying would happen, when she spotted him.

Goodnight stood off to the other side of the great four-post bed. He was dressed in a deep-red robe, and much to her surprise, it appeared he was quite fat as his stomach was large and round. This was a great warrior?

For the first time she had an opportunity to study his face, as at her own party she had met him in the dark of night with very little light to see. But alas, she realized as she searched his face now, the canopy of the bed threw a dark shadow over the top half of him, and as he still wore a thick, black beard there was very little of him to see.

Aurelia wanted to pinch herself for lingering so long just to study him. She quickly made a curtsy and turned to leave. His words stopped her.

"Still, the most beautiful woman alive, surely," he spoke at last, his voice deep and rough, not quite the odd, distinct whisper she remembered.

Perhaps she could still escape. "Thank you, your majesty," she replied without turning back to him. She intended to leave before more could be said, however, again his words stopped her, and this time, forced her to turn to him.

"And yet, how far you have fallen. A true mark of beauty, that your low station has not altered your grace. Except for your hair," he pointed out. "Sin, that," he remarked.

"If I may be so bold, your majesty—and I understand I have no right to ask anything of you—however, but please be so decent as to forget you know who I am, and allow me to leave and attend to my other duties."

"Leave? Why would I allow you to leave when I specifically asked you to serve my supper just so I could see you?" A frisson of nerves shocked its way down her spine, and she became aware of the knot that had formed in her stomach.

"And for what purpose would you wish to see me, your majesty?"

"To offer you a chance at redemption."

An eyebrow lifted. "How so?"

Though little could be distinguished in the dark, hidden under the beard, she wouldn't have mistaken the smirk. "Why, to elevate you, of course. As my mistress."

Flames shot up the sides of her face, nausea building. Her mouth tightened as she fought against its cowering affects. "And if I say no?" she questioned tersely.

He chuckled. "Is that something you are likely to say?"

Her lip snarled in distaste. "You are about to be married, your majesty," she responded through clenched teeth.

"What of it? I might as well make use of your beauty, now that by all rights it belongs to me as you are my citizen."

"It does not belong to you. I am a married woman and not available for such a relationship."

"You're married to a poor man. Not a man worthy of you."

"You know not of what you speak," she proclaimed, clearly bristled at his distasteful offer. "My husband may not be of great monetary means, but he is a good man. The best." The king visibly scoffed. "He took me at my lowest and taught me a better way to live. He transformed me into someone truly respectable, not just royal," she argued, her anger growing at the disrespect the king had for her husband.

"Respectable? You're a peasant! He's reduced your high status to that of the lowest of the low! Miriam has told me how you scrape my dinner plates for your meals. You eat scraps! He's reduced you to the status of a dog!" he proclaimed, echoing her very thoughts. "Do you not deserve better?"

"True, we may not have the riches that are here in your court or that I grew up with, but at least he is what he claims."

"And what does that mean?" the king asked.

"Since coming to this land, I've heard nothing but the goodness of the king," she explained, disdain dripping from her words. "And while I was reluctant to believe it, I allowed myself to be persuaded that perhaps you are a good and noble man and my dislike of you was of my own prejudice. But you have shown me this day you are nothing but a devious, lecherous, pickle-minded malignancy! You are not worthy to rule when you attempt to dishonor your citizens as you have me tonight, nor are you fit to marry if you can betray your betrothed as you have with your distasteful proposition. You have proven yourself fit for no place other than a gutter."

Her hands were fists at her side; her chin was impossibly high. "I will not betray my husband," she declared with passion. "No amount of enticement can seduce me away from him. Only my husband is worthy of me. You think you can buy my loyalty with promises of riches? My loyalty is beyond any price you can pay with material rewards. You do nothing but further ruin yourself in my eyes by keeping me here. Release me at once," she commanded. She turned for the door, thoughts of whether she should change back into her soiled dress or just leave the castle in the one she was wearing flittering through her mind when the king spoke again.

In her fury, it took a moment for his words to register. "Nothing, bud? What if I were to perform a magic trick for you?" His voice had changed, the heavy roughness softened to something more tender and infinitely more familiar. She stopped in her tracks, realizing what he called her. Slowly she turned.

"What did you call me?" her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Would you like to see such a trick?" he asked.

She stepped forward, entranced. "What did you call me?" she demanded again.

The king tugged at the belt of his robe until it slid free of the knot, and as the ends fell to his side, a fat pillow stuffed inside the robe fell out revealing a leaner figure beneath. Aurelia's head cocked, her mind scrambling to make sense of what was happening.

"Could you truly not recognize me, bud?" he murmured softly, reaching up for the thick beard to peel it off slowly, his eyes squinting at the stinging pain. When the furry thing hung free in his hand, he worked his mouth wide, rubbing his face, reawakening his skin, which had been too long suffocating under the glue to keep the sheep's wool attached to his face.

Mesmerized, not fully knowing the score of the situation, Aurelia crept forward, her stunned eyes never leaving his face. "Maks?" she whispered. "What is the meaning of this?" She stood a little ways off, the shaking of her body returning as the shock became too much. Seeing her distress, Maks took her by the shoulders and led her to a little settee.

"How? How do you come to be here? In the place of the king?" her eyes never leaving his face.

"Will you not sit?" he offered gently, attempting to draw her down. "Perhaps some wine before you faint?"

"Perhaps," she muttered, allowing him to guide her. Maks brought her a glass and waited for her to drink it down, which she did with a shudder at the strong flavor. "Explain this to me?" she requested in a voice strained by the burning alcohol sliding down throat.

"You are my wife, therefore, the wife of the king."

"You are Goodnight?" Her voice a distraught whisper. "But your name? Goodnight's name is—"

"Aryk Magnus Goodnight. But my friend's call me Maks."

"Maks," she repeated, still not understanding. "But how? Why?"

His gaze was somber as he placed his arm over the back of the little couch and waited for the right words to come to him. He had waited months for this moment and knew his justification would have to uphold under her cutting scrutiny.

"You do not remember me, do you? From when you were a child?" She slowly shook her head. "I visited your home, three or four times when you were young. You were sweet then." The corner of his mouth came up in a smirk as he rethought that description. "Well, you were clever and entertaining, charming even, and I had something of an affection for you. But not long after your mother died, my own father sent me to begin my training to take command of our soldiers. I grew up in those hard years," he stated as he remembered his youth chiseled away into manhood. His eyes flickered back to her.

"But when I returned, I discovered the bewitching, intelligent little girl I had left had turned into a cruel, spoiled brat." Aurelia felt her stomach harden, mortification and indignation settling in the tissues of her body. When her spine stiffened, Maks' own expression became more serious, and a touch reproachful.

"Over the years, I learned from your father that your attitude had only worsened. I had every intention of forgetting you; after all, it was none of my concern what sort of person you grew to be. But when I became king and had need to take a wife for myself, someone to be my queen, I could not stop thinking of you, and the girl you once were. I became intrigued by the idea that perhaps the good, smart girl was still in there somewhere," he admitted as his eyes roved over her face. "That perhaps I could bring her back. I approached your father, who had become...discouraged with your manner himself, though he knew of no way to alter what you had become. I offered a solution."

As Maks stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, his eyes held such concern that Aurelia was torn between agitation and comfort.

"I devised with your father to approach you in the unsavory state you found me in at your ball. No clairvoyant was needed to predict how you would react to such a disrespectfully presented offer of marriage. And as expected, you shunned me in such a manner that your father was justified to publicly pledge you to the next beggar to come to the castle gates." He smiled in a tight, almost self-deprecating fashion. "Which naturally I arranged to be me."