Fly_Goose Girl Retold

by Demelza Carlton

  “Does the gown not please you, mistress?” one of the maids asked, frowning deeply. She gestured imperiously and two maids stepped forward, carrying a mirror between them that was almost as big as Ava herself. “This is the fashion worn by all the great ladies at the Emperor’s court, but if you wish to change, we are here to serve, mistress."

  Ava scarcely recognised her own reflection. Even in the muted lighting in the bath house, the gold embroidery on her gown glittered, drawing her eye away from the layers of shining silk beneath it. Her hair had been tamed into an elaborate coiffure atop her head, the curlicues reminiscent of a flower opening its petals to greet the dawn. Beneath it all, the maids had painted her face so that her unnaturally pale cheeks resembled Bianca’s, while her carmined lips made her think of rosebuds. Yet it was her own eyes that drew her in. Dark and mysterious, the maids had applied layers of powder and paint until her eyes seemed to draw in the spirit of anyone who dared to meet her gaze. Even as her eyes widened in fright, they only appeared deeper and more dangerous. The eyes of a queen, Ava thought uneasily.

  Ava assured the maids that everything about her toilette pleased her, for she now looked every bit a queen.

  She received a flurry of bowing for the compliment before the maids hustled her back to her apartment, where two impatient guardsmen waited. Not that she could see their expressions or even their faces under their helmets, of course, but the way they hurried her off in a new direction, muttering about how long ago the Emperor had summoned her and how angry he would be at the wait, certainly confirmed it. Ava had to take two steps to every one these guardsmen took, so small was she, but they never slowed, so by the time they reached the ornate bronze doors to the throne room, Ava was out of breath from running to keep up. She would have crashed into the doors when her guards stopped abruptly, if it wasn’t for the doors themselves swinging open before her, almost as if by magic. Ava didn’t see the telltale glow of a spell, though, and the mystery was solved by the presence of two more guardsmen, standing behind each door.

  She stumbled inside, flustered and wishing herself back in the relative peace of the bath house, even before the crowd turned to stare at her. Men and women both, far more richly dressed than she was, their dark eyes seeming to suck at her spirit as she passed them.

  Fish had dark eyes, Ava reminded herself, and so did she. She drew herself up, remembering her promise to Bianca, and waited for her name to be announced.

  The herald’s sonorous shout made her sound far more important than she felt, even if most of the titles he described were her father’s and not her own. He made no mention of her mother, which Ava supposed was better than being described as kin to the Queen.

  As the herald’s words rang out, the stares that had been directed at her now lowered to the floor, as the entire court bowed to a foreign princess. Feeling herself invisible in a hall full of people gave Ava the courage to move forward, something she wouldn’t have thought possible a moment before, with all those eyes upon her.

  On a dais at the far end of the hall sat the Emperor on his throne, flanked by other people on lesser chairs. Reminded of her father’s throne room, which was much smaller, Ava kept her eyes on the floor so that she wouldn’t trip on her stately skirts and embarrass herself. When she reached the foot of the dais, she dropped gracefully to her knees, allowing her skirts to fan out around her, before bowing so low her forehead touched the floor.

  Princesses bow only to their king and their husband, no one else. Bianca’s warning rang in her head, too late.

  Ava struggled to rise, but the damage was done. She had subjugated herself before a foreign king. Her face red with shame, she stayed on her knees to hide her embarrassment.

  “So, Chinggis sent a witch to bespell me. He thinks I am a coward, to be frightened by a mere child!” the Emperor roared. “Or maybe she is not really a child. The stories say his witch queen casts spells to make her appear more youthful. Perhaps Chinggis is a defiler of children, who likes his girls so young!”

  Laughter erupted around the hall, echoing off the walls. Ava’s blood simmered.

  “Try to cast your spell, witch! My guards will cut you down before you can spread any evil here!” the Emperor continued.

  Ava wet her lips. “I’m no witch.”

  “You lie! Why else are you here? I agreed to meet no envoy of Chinggis!”

  It began to dawn on Ava why she and Lagle had been sent across the border without an escort.

  “I am here to make peace through an alliance. A marriage alliance,” she said carefully.

  The Emperor snorted. “An alliance with who?”

  “With you.” It was on the tip of her tongue to add, “Your Majesty,” as she might when speaking to a king, but she wasn’t sure what to call an emperor. Lagle would know. That’s why she should be here, not Ava.

  An ominous silence stretched between them. Ava dared to raise her head, to find the Emperor staring at her.

  “I don’t need another wife,” he said coldly. “My Empress has given me many sons, who have wives and children of their own. Go back where you came from, girl, and tell your witch mother we want none of her kind here.”

  “I cannot return without…” Lagle, she wanted to say, but instead she said, “without an alliance and a promise for peace.”

  “Your kind want nothing but war.”

  Muttering rumbled around the hall as many of the courtiers agreed with the Emperor.

  Ava swallowed. “I don’t. I want peace. My father wants peace. That’s why he sent his daughter here to marry…marry into your family.” She didn’t dare say that Lagle was here to marry him. Lagle would never agree to be his wife if she couldn’t be queen. “If not you, then perhaps one of your sons…?”

  Lagle might settle for the crown prince as a husband. Maybe.

  Another snort. “Only the child of Chinggis would dare to demand one of my sons in marriage. None of my sons would take you for a wife, or even a concubine. What man wants a viper in his bed?”

  Titters came from the crowd, which quickly silenced as footsteps sounded on the stone floor.

  “I might. If I survived the night, it would make a wonderful tale to sing at feasts,” a familiar voice drawled.

  Ava turned her head in time to see an armoured man leap down from the dais. No one, not even the guards beside her, moved to stop him.

  “She looks so lovely down there on her knees. No wonder you’re drawing this audience out, Father. When you’re done, I’d like her.” The man pulled off his helmet, revealing quite a handsome face. He winked at Ava.

  The Emperor’s eyebrows bunched together. “Better to send her home to her father than risk war or worse.”

  More muttering came from the crowd.

  “But look at her, Father. As pretty as a poem. Just what I want in a wife.”

  Wife? No, Lagle was the one who was supposed to get married, not Ava, and surely not to this strange prince who spoke of songs and tales and poetry. Surely the Emperor wouldn’t change his mind on the whim of his son.

  “Are you a virgin?” the Emperor demanded.

  Ava blushed scarlet. “Of…of course.”

  The Emperor turned to his son. “See if she lies, and if she bears a witch mark.”

  “When I have her alone in my chambers, I will make a thorough investigation,” the prince said gravely.

  The Emperor gave a curt nod. “Be it on your head, then.” He clapped his hands. “Summon a matchmaker. This marriage will happen now or not at all.”

  Ava’s mouth dropped open. Now? But Lagle…

  The Emperor’s gaze was fixed on her. “Have you changed your mind, daughter of Chinggis?”

  Slowly, Ava shook her head. “If a marriage alliance is the price of peace, then I will play my part in it. I will marry the prince…the prince…”

  “Yun Bataar,” the prince supplied with a sweeping bow. “The eighth son of our Blessed Emperor. Delighted to meet you, Princess Ava.”

  Lagle would n
ever agree to marry an eighth son. A king, or the heir to the throne, were all she would agree to. Of course, Lagle would probably not permit Ava to marry a prince before she herself was married.

  All the more reason to do this now.

  “I will marry Prince Yun Bataar as soon as the ceremony can be arranged,” Ava said, trying and failing to still the shaking in her voice.

  She was about to discover just how quickly that could be.

  Sixteen

  When the Princess entered the room, her face froze in terror. Yun wanted to get up and tell her everything would be all right, but as he rose from his chair, his mother's hand landed on his arm.

  "Don't," she whispered.

  While Yun might disagree with his father, he never disobeyed his mother. Reluctantly, he subsided.

  When the Princess reached the foot of the dais, she fell to her knees, as though they would no longer carry her. Again, Yun felt his mother's restraining hand on his arm, and again he resisted going to the girl's assistance.

  Yun's blood simmered as his father tormented the girl, calling her names while the court laughed. He charged her with crimes that should rightly be laid at Chinggis' door, not his daughter's, but no one else seemed to care.

  And then his father called her a witch.

  The girl's head jerked up, just enough for Yun to see her eyes flash with fury. "I'm no witch."

  Yun almost laughed. If she was a witch, she would have cast a spell then and there on the Emperor. That she didn't was proof of her honesty.

  Then she uttered six words that made Yun sit up and listen: "I am here to make peace."

  His mouth grew as dry as the desert, while his heart beat faster. Could this girl persuade his father to accept a peace alliance where he had failed?

  Suddenly the girl on her knees no longer looked so subservient. She looked like a snake ready to strike, but choosing to spare him. Because she wanted peace.

  Marriage. Why were they talking about marriage? Yun must have missed something. She wanted to marry one of the Emperor's sons?

  His belly twisted within him. If any of his brothers got hold of her, they would make her suffer. The pain of the girls they'd tortured to death in that village would be nothing compared to what they'd do to Chinggis' daughter.

  "Save her," Mother hissed. "Ask for her."

  Yun stared at the Empress, but she only stared implacably back. She had given him an order. One that he must obey.

  "What man wants a viper in his bed?" Father demanded.

  This time, Mother didn't stop him when Yun rose. Of course not. “I might," he said with forced nonchalance as he strode to his father's side. "If I survived the night, it would make a wonderful tale to sing at feasts."

  The Emperor stared at him, lost for words.

  But Yun detected a wavering. If his father gave him the girl, perhaps peace would be possible.

  Yun continued in the same vein, talking of poetry and nonsense until his father's patience wore thin. Thin enough to concede to what Yun wanted.

  “Be it on your head, then," the Emperor grumbled.

  Yun held out his hand for the girl's, and for the first time felt the tremors running through her. She truly was terrified, but she had stood up to his father all the same. More than ever, he wanted to save this princess from the rest of his family.

  "I am Yun Bataar, eighth son of our Blessed Emperor," he told her. Her face fell, and he stumbled over his polite words about how pleased he was to meet her.

  The proud Princess didn't want an eighth son, and who could blame her? But if she knew what the other seven would do to her…

  No. Yun would not let his brothers harm her.

  "I will marry Prince Yun Bataar," the Princess said, the proud tilt of her chin announcing that she would accept nothing less.

  Yun's mind whirled. Hadn't his father offered her as a concubine, a mistress? When had he agreed to make her his wife?

  He directed a silent entreaty to his mother, begging her with his eyes to tell him what to do.

  The Empress's eyes blazed. She nodded once, a jerk of her head that left Yun with no other choice.

  "The sooner I get her alone in my chambers, the better. Thank you, Father," Yun said.

  The girl trembled, and Yun wished he could reassure her, tell her she had nothing to fear from him. Not tonight, not ever. But as the Emperor's joke of a youngest son, he had a role to play. So he smiled, and joked, and generally made light of his marriage, even as they said their vows. It wasn’t until they reached the privacy of his chamber that he allowed the façade to slip.

  He poured himself a drink and downed it in one gulp, before pouring another. Only then did he have the courage to speak to her. His wife.

  He turned and opened his mouth, but what he saw left him speechless.

  Seventeen

  For all the talk in the women’s palace about how grand Lagle’s wedding would be, with many changes of clothing, complicated ceremonies and public spectacles that Lagle had boasted about endlessly, Ava’s wedding to Yun was surprisingly simple. No clothing changes, and the ceremony was so fast she had trouble following it. Surely all she’d done was serve a few cups of tea and sipped at her own before she was bundled out of the throne room for what she thought would be the first change of clothes. It wasn’t until the last maid had left that she realised she was alone in a room with Yun and, to her gut-churning consternation, a bed.

  Yun poured himself a drink of something that smelled far stronger than the traitorous tea she’d been too busy drinking to notice her own marriage ceremony until it was over. He offered Ava a cup of the pungent liquid, but she shook her head. If she drank a single mouthful, it would only come right back up again. She'd left the only mother and home she’d ever known, with the prospect of a lifetime of servitude to her least favourite sister, and before she'd had time to mourn her loss, her fate had twisted so inexplicably to give her a husband.

  Which made her a wife with wifely duties, Ava reminded herself.

  Though she was one of the King’s daughters, sex was no secret in the women’s palace. She knew very well what was expected of her, though she had never expected to need that knowledge until now. Methodically, she removed her clothing, layer by layer, until she was down to her thin shift. She considered removing that, too, but she’d heard that some men preferred to do their own unveiling, especially the first time.

  Ava swallowed, climbed onto the bed, lay down, and spread her legs. Closing her eyes, she prayed to the ancestors that Yun’s attentions would be over quickly.

  “No drink, and straight to business? Are you sure you are Chinggis’ daughter?” Yun asked, laughing.

  Ava’s eyes snapped open. Not a day passed that Lagle hadn’t made some scathing comment about her legitimacy. All Ava knew what that her father would never have kept her if he was in any doubt that she was his child.

  If Yun doubted it, why had he agreed to marry her?

  “I am Chinggis’ daughter,” Ava said slowly. “And your wife.”

  The word sounded so strange.

  Yun’s laughter died. “Yes, which means I have a duty to perform.” He began to disrobe, and Ava closed her eyes again. The more she saw of him, the more he would frighten her.

  She felt his weight compress the mattress near her feet. Ava risked opening her eyes.

  The man who knelt between her legs was magnificent, and with every bit of him on display, she could look her fill. Perhaps she might enjoy a little of her marriage bed, if she could look upon a man like this while he did whatever he wanted with her. Bianca would have loved to marry such a handsome prince.

  Bianca would also be braver about her wedding night than Ava, who began to shiver as she remembered what would happen.

  Yun lifted his arm, looking determined, and light glinted off metal. The metal of a dagger blade he held poised, ready to stab into her flesh.

  Ava screamed.

  Yun grunted, then said, “There.”

  Ava dared to open
her eyes. He’d sliced his hand, and now he held it between her legs, so close the blood almost dripped on her instead of the sheet beneath her. Wide-eyed, all she could do was stare as he let his hand bleed for a long moment, before wiping it on the sheet. His fingers brushed her thigh and she shivered again, but not entirely out of fear this time.

  “Go up to the top of the bed, and cover yourself,” Yun advised.

  Ava scrambled to obey, too confused to do anything else.

  Yun ripped the bloodied sheet off the bed and gave a shout of triumph. He threw open the room door and flapped the sheet at the crowd of courtiers waiting outside. “She fought fiercely to start with, but I tamed her. See?” He pointed at Ava, who curled up into a tiny ball at the head of the bed, as far away from the door as possible, then flapped the sheet again. “I should thank Chinggis for his gift of a sweet virgin bride.”

  The courtiers tittered and the crowd slowly dispersed until only Yun stood in the doorway, no longer holding the sheet.

  “Get some sleep,” Yun ordered. He wrapped a robe around himself, then left, closing the door after him.

  Ava waited, but he didn’t return. After a while, she uncurled and allowed herself to relax. Evidently her husband didn’t want to share her bed tonight. She would summon up the courage to ask him why later. For now, she stretched out on the bed and fell asleep.

  Eighteen

  Yun paced the walls, unable to get the image out of his head. Of her, his wife, the pretty princess stretched out on his bed in a shift so thin he could see every delicious detail of her body through it, which should have aroused him beyond belief, if it wasn't for her expression.

  Her squeezed shut eyes, her wobbling lip, her clenched fists on either side of her throat…as though she expected to be punished.

  What had she done to deserve punishment?

  Nothing, he told himself. She wanted peace, the same as he did. She had consented to the marriage, and shown courage when his father had humiliated her before the court. She had even spread her body out on the bed, a sacrifice to this marriage alliance she wanted…but not with him.