Into the Goodnight Ch. 04

Aurelia looked about the room, her eyes landing on the false beard he had discarded on a little table nearby. So many emotions and thoughts were swirling around in her head she latched onto the one that seemed the most readily understood. It felt wrong to have been so tricked this evening.

"Why bring me here like this? Why do this to me now?" she questioned with a frown. "Was this some sort of sick test?"

Maks expression became intense, firm. "No, not sick. Necessary. I had to be certain of the sincerity of your transformation, that you would be loyal to me—the man you grew to love. I had to know that nothing could lure you away from me, not even the promise of restoring you to wealth and luxury."

A fire sprang up in the pit of her stomach, a rage flooding in. "And shall I not also hold you to some necessary test?" Her mouth tightened. "One to prove just how honorable and worthy of my trust you are?"

Maks was surprised by her questions. "I would fear no such a test, though none is necessary."

"How can you say that when you have already failed!" she exclaimed, jumping from the couch. Her rising anger was sharp and caustic, like bile sitting on the tongue. "You've been lying since the beginning. How could you ever have demanded my trust when you held your very identity a secret from me?" Within the span of one single, raging heartbeat, the man before Aurelia transformed from the husband she loved into the man she despised above all others. Tears clouded her vision. A cacophony of emotions screamed under her skin and she wanted to claw it off, desperate for relief. Her voice was tight and disbelieving when she spoke. "Why did you do it? Knowing that I'd rather face death than marry Goodnight—marry you—why trick me into that?"

The king stood and faced her. "Do you not see? The very reason you would have chosen death over me proves the need for the concealment; you would never have given me the chance. Sometimes a disguise, for a person or a lesson, is necessary when we hold such prejudices against them that we can't see the good in them.

"Yes, I came to you as another, but in name and title only. I have never lied to you about the sort of man I am nor how it should be between us. And I've certainly never misled you about who you could become."

"And just who have I become? Tell me. Am I anything other than the well-trained, gullible wife of the magnanimous king? Admit it. This entire charade was concocted to get yourself a wife who did not want you and rid my father of a daughter he could not manage. And now, this whole marriage has been designed to bridle me up like some sort of broke-in pony that won't fight against you! Has this been anything other than your supreme chance to show the world what a good and gracious king you are? That you can take your worst citizen and change her into someone you would proudly marry? Pray forgive me if I cannot find the stomach to applaud your victory, oh good king." The snarl at her lip was felt curling in her stomach. A cramp and a nausea bubbling up into her throat. Aurelia turned away, closing her eyes against the fresh springing of tears that threatened to shame her.

Maks silently cursed himself for not having anticipated Aurelia's old hates and fears would keep her from accepting him as her husband. He understood her disdain for her beauty and her need to prove herself beyond it. But understanding of the origin of contempt she held for him eluded him.

"From where born is this hate you bear me? What wrong have I committed that you would throw your life away in defense of this hate? How can you allow it to bend your mind so completely that you believe all my actions were of evil intent?"

The cracking, popping of the fire was the only sound in the room as Aurelia felt her emotions and thoughts skitter to and fro before settling to a manageable hum below the surface. She wiped the slide of tears from her flushed cheeks. Her voice was low, numb when she spoke.

"If you ever visited our home, I don't recall. And I don't remember much about my mother, about life when she was alive. But I do remember when my brother was born. I was nine and the entire kingdom was rejoicing that there was finally an heir. When I asked my governess why I wasn't to be the heir—after all I was the eldest—she patted my cheek and said as the princess, if I was lucky, I would grow up to marry a king. Therefore, it was my duty to be as pretty as possible so some good king would want me."

She turned steadily around to face him, her mouth set in a grim line.

"As I grew older, the prevailing belief was that there was no king greater than you," she stated solemnly, her eyes rising to his with accusations and pain. "I suppose you became representative of all those things I was learning so easily to resent. Resentment, left to grow and fester, has a way of turning into hate. So I hated you, for you were all the things I wished to be, but would never be allowed."

Her words hung in the air only a moment before Maks took the three steps to her, ignoring how her body tensed as he approached. He touched her arm, reconnecting in the simplest form he knew how. "But don't you see, bud, that's just it; your hate for me is only misplaced. It should be for the unjust assumption that you are meant to be nothing more than mere ornamentation. It is wrong that others see you as only a pretty face and have no appreciation for the greatness of your mind, or heart," he argued.

"I wish there might have been some other way, that you hadn't grown up as alone and misunderstood as you had. I wish you could see me for the man I strive to be and that you would have wanted me the king as you came to want me as Maks. But that is not the reality we were handed. And so I will not apologize for finding a way into your heart, for helping you learn to consider the needs of others, or realize you are more than just your outer shell. And as for controllable, dear bud, I've never wanted a puppet, only a strong and worthy queen."

"Worthy? And whose standards must I reach to be called such? Yours? My father's?" She wanted to turn and escape, but Maks only held her more firmly, refusing to allow her to flee. Unable to escape physically, she looked over his shoulder.

"No, look at me, bud." Her brow furrowed and her mouth pursed as she turned her tear-filled eyes to him.

"Listen to me, and listen well, Aurelia, for this is something I want you to never doubt nor forget; we are all of us the sum of our actions, and we are all of us responsible for the person we choose to become. I may have provided you with the opportunity to learn something about yourself, to teach you a different perspective of life, but it was you, and you alone who chose to become something other than a spoiled princess. You have proven yourself a caring and wise leader among those you formerly believed beneath your consideration.

"So know that your actions determine you to be a worthy lady, sweet, sweet Aurelia. Worthy to rule, not to just be married to a ruler. Your treatment of the widows demonstrates that. And you are worthy to be loved, not because of your beauty but because of your heart you have revealed to me. I am honored to have had your trust to share yourself so completely. And I know that this seeming betrayal has made me appear unworthy of that trust in your eyes, but believe me, bud, after this day there will be no secrets between us, no amount of coercion or reprisals. Just you and I, ruling together."

It was so easy to let the weight of her great indignation and battered pride drag her heart down into darkness. But she knew the loneliness of that descent, knew that no reward awaited her at the cold bottom. Her eyes teared with a glimpse into the pit.

Contrarily, Maks' words offered some amount of redemption, a sliver of hope. He believed in her. Someone believed she was worthy to rule as queen. She felt a cold, dark place begin to fill with just the smallest amount of golden light. And perhaps more importantly, someone loved her for her.

Goodnight.

Aurelia peered up uncertainly into Maks' eyes, and within the blink of an eye, the man before her was no longer her enemy, but transfigured into a funny mixture of a king and her husband. It felt as if she had always known that face and was seeing him for the first time. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Goodnight truly was a good man. He had taken an obnoxious wife on a gamble. Lived in a hovel among his own peasants. Taken supreme care to unthread her soul from the black tangle of pain and resentment. He truly was the best of men, and she would have no other.

"Please, sweet Aurelia, rule with me. Stay with me and allow me to cherish you the rest of our lives." His hand cupping her cheek had slid down to rest between her breasts, the heat of it seeping straight into her heart.

She loved the sound of her name on his lips. "Yes," she sniffled with a growing smile, "yes, I will be your queen. I will be your wife."

Maks' radiant smile dazzled her. "Thank the heavens for that," he said with immeasurable relief moments before he drew her in for a kiss fueled by thankfulness and love.

As it had been some time since his mouth last touched hers, a voracity sprung forth and he held Aurelia to him, kissing her, devouring her mouth and breath, and perhaps a little of her soul. She willingly succumbed to him, and with little conscious thought, he maneuvered them to stand next to the giant, four-post bed, his warm, strong hands running up the length of her body possessively.

So much had transpired in the last few hours that Aurelia found herself reeling helplessly in a sea of conflicting emotions and thoughts. But despite all the waves that threatened to overwhelm her, she wasn't directionless, for she had Maks, and his unfailing faith in her was like a beacon in the storm.

And in her gratefulness for her husband's love and Maks' relief that she accepted him, their coupling was needy and desperate, with grasping and pulling hands, wet and devouring mouths. In a disjointed unison, they stripped each other of their respective clothing, her dress falling careless around her feet, his robe flung to an unseen corner.

Surges of the waves would come at her as she made for shore, picking her high and rolling her low, causing her stomach to fly into her throat a moment before it closed in something akin to panic. At first she carried on, returning Maks' kiss with urgency and need, but the hammer of her heart became too painful, denting away at the cage of her chest. She was married to the king, elevated beyond her former glory to that of queen, and not only loved by the very best of men, but the man she chose and loved in return. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Maks chose not to stop and console her, but lifted her by the buttocks, wrapping his strong arms around her. Aurelia clung to him, her arms crossing around his broad back and her legs wrapping around his hips. Her tongue and lips kissing him in sensual strokes between words she could no longer keep to herself. Whimpering, and moaning, and whispering, and declaring and promising, she told him she loved him over and over and over.

As if she had finally made it to him through the tempest, Maks groaned while he slowly lowered her down until the tip of his erection at last pierced her folds, finding them dripping with need and as tight as he remembered.

On his way moving her to the bed, he paused to press her against the nearest post, thrusting into her several times. But as they became more frenzied, it was evident he would need more support for his wife's writhing body. Fumbling her to the bed, he tossed one of her shapely legs over his shoulder and reared back on his hands. The posture angled his hips into her even better, making his forward plunging more powerful and drawing increasingly desperate whimpers from Aurelia.

And then they were there at the gloriously summit of pleasure, her stomach quivering and inner walls fluttering painfully around him. He roared victoriously, his prize beneath him giving herself to him completely. Collapsed and panting on her, Maks felt his spirit slip from his body, the spasms of his heart squeezing it from him. And then he floated, merging with the shadows and glowing lights of the room, feeling connected with every last reach of his kingdom.

Cool fingertips stroking against the side of his neck slowly drew him back to himself, condensing his expanded self back into a man, a husband. His arms scooped under her as he rolled them onto his back, her laying sprawled across his chest.

"Are you hungry, bud?"

She made a humming sound, not an immediate answer. He asked her again, his fingers stroking in her hair. "Hm?" She lifted herself off to look down at him. "How can you think of food at a time like this?" But then, much to her chagrin, her stomach grumbled in protest at being denied the opportunity of food.

Laughing, Maks sat up, placed a quick kiss to the end of her nose and then got out of the bed. He came back with his dinner tray she had earlier brought and placed it in the center before crawling back to his previous spot. Together, they picked through the selection of fresh fruits, cheeses, and breads. There was even portions of the pink fish, she reluctantly admitted had grown on her.

While they ate, they talked. About still muddy emotions and nowhither thoughts. About each of their hopes for the future and their ideas of what married life as king and queen would be like compared to their brief experience as pauper man and poor wife. Maks gave her cursory information about the castle that she hadn't yet learned or needed to know. He gave her the projected itinerary of the month-long celebration, including her coronation ceremony as his kingdom's new queen.

"In the morning, we are to have dinner with your parents."

"They are here? And my brother, too?" Her stomach felt a little unsteady as he nodded.

"Your father is...anxious to see you."

She frowned. "Why? Does he still despise me?"

Maks wrapped an arm around her, their backs leaning upright against the tufted headboard. "Your father was more disappointed with himself, I think, that he failed you. And that he was basically incapable of helping you."

She was silent, absorbing his confession before she chuckled. "Mmm, yes. I don't think your...method? would have been quite successful if coming from him," she teased as she lifted the blankets so she could straddle his lap. Staring into his eyes with a wicked glint, she slowly eased herself down onto his rapidly swelling shaft.

For a minute or two, neither spoke as she settled fully around him. His hands on her hips guided her initially to begin a slow steady rhythm against him, not so much lifting and falling down on his length, but rolling her hips against him, stimulating her sensitive pearl. But as she grew skilled enough on her own, she entwined their fingers and brought his hands above his head, pressing them into the headboard. As they kissed, her breath coming in faster and faster gasps, she posed a question she had long wondered.

"Maks, could sometime, could maybe...I tie you up?"

Maks was panting. "You...want to tie me up?" She nodded, her mouth open and taking in his air. "As I've tied you up?" She kissed him and nodded.

When she felt the shudder run through him, her own body clamped down tight around him, causing him to exhale on a sweetly tortured groan. "Bud, you can do anything you want to me."

And that was all it took to make her ravenous, make her hips lift and slam into him with such need and hopeful despair that it was not a minute more before she was climaxing hard, squealing with her eyes tightly shut. He grabbed her to him, pressing her chest against his and held her hip with the other hand so he could thrust up into her once then twice and spill violently into her on the third.

It was several hours later, as the two satiated and exhausted monarchs lay recovering from their last bouts of lovemaking that Maks gingerly tucked the wild hair behind her ear, his fingertips trailing lovingly around the shell of her ear. Studying her features softened by contentment, he finally acknowledged to himself he was blessed above all men to have a wife with such spirit, bravery and strength. She would be the brightest jewel of his crown, the dearest treasure in his vaults, the greatest weapon in his arsenal. Not because of her beauty, but because of her heart.

To him, she was perfection.