Awaken - Sleeping Beauty Retold

by Jade

  "A lord and his son who seduce the women of their household, pledging their love with no intention of marrying the girls? Who would do such a thing? Surely, honour cannot be so dead!" Rosamond exclaimed.

  "My lady, there is little of love when a man desires a woman. It is different with the master, for what woman would not want him? High and honourable as he is, I do not believe he would seduce a woman without marriage on his mind. But any other nobleman...if he wishes to bed one of his servants, the girl has no choice but to obey. I heard that Moxa, Lady Vamos' maid, tried to refuse, but they beat her so badly that in the end she begged Fodor to take her so the beatings would stop. She still lost her position, and none will employ a fallen woman."

  "Fallen? Or forced?" Rosamond asked sharply.

  Agnna shrugged. "There is little difference in the law of the land. It protects noblemen, not us."

  "When I am queen, I will change that," Rosamond vowed. "No woman should be forced to lie with a man against her will. It is barbaric."

  "I wish you every blessing in your endeavour, my lady," Agnna said. "But...better not to speak of such things to the master for a while yet. He has so many other, more important cares on his shoulders nowadays, what with being Lord Protector and all. Best to pay attention to making him happy and saving your strength for the wedding." She looked up at Rosamond. "Will you need my help dressing, my lady?"

  "No," Rosamond replied. "I think I still need to rest a little longer. Perhaps tomorrow. You may go."

  The girl left the room, but Rosamond was so deep in thought she barely noticed. Before, Rosamond had believed that being queen was an irritating obligation, and marrying well would allow her to leave ruling up to her husband. No more. Not if women were being raped by the very noblemen the kingdom depended on to protect the people.

  Lord Vamos, his son and any other man who thought women were chattels to be used and thrown away were in for a rude shock when she ascended the throne. For the first time in her life, she looked forward to her coronation.

  FIFTEEN

  Rosamond waited for Warin to visit her, but there was no sign of him, and when she asked Agnna about her master's whereabouts, the girl simply said she did not know.

  Patience had never been Rosamond's strong point, so after two days abed, she decided to try walking again. Slowly at first, holding onto the bed for a few steps before she needed to sit down again, then a little longer each time until she could walk about the room without needing a rest. She needed to speak to her father before Warin did, for even if he had been named Lord Protector – a prestigious promotion for a captain of the guard – her parents had wanted her to marry some foreign prince.

  She simply had to convince them that Warin was the better choice. But first, she had to regain her strength, and the fastest way to do that involved spending time in Warin's garden, if she could find it. If not, she could always cuddle up to the nearest tree. A mighty oak did not have the ebullience of something faster growing like a rose or berry bush, but she did not need to borrow much energy for what was more a tonic than proper healing.

  Cautiously, Rosamond made her way downstairs. The bedchambers were on the highest floor of the house, above the great hall, with the kitchens and servants' quarters in the partially subterranean lowest level, she discovered as she descended.

  A mob of wide eyes greeted her as she reached what must have been the servants' dining hall.

  "What are you doing here, my lady?" Agnna asked, no less surprised than the rest.

  A princess did not apologise to those lower than her, Rosamond remembered, as if her mother was even now hissing the words into her ear. Rosamond lifted her chin. "Looking for a garden to sit in."

  "The master does not have a garden to speak of, my lady, unless you count the kitchen garden, with the herbs and vegetables..."

  "Or the orchard," a young boy piped up. "I'm supposed to pick the ripe ones from the berry patch this afternoon, but there's still plenty for you, my lady."

  Berry bushes, the next closest thing to roses. "That sounds wonderful. Will you show me?"

  The boy nodded happily before bounding up the steps too fast for Rosamond to follow.

  "I will take you, my lady," Agnna said, proceeding at a much slower pace up the stairs. "If you will follow me? Someone will bring you refreshment, for you will need it outside in the summer heat."

  The servants' quarters of Warin's house were far more confining than those in the castle, but then his house was so much smaller. Not as tiny as one of the peasant cottages she'd passed on the road, but still...much smaller than she was accustomed to. The walled garden Agnna led her to did not disappoint, though, for the orchard surpassed the small copse of trees in the castle garden by a considerable quantity.

  Not to mention Rosamond spotted...

  "Cloudberries!" she exclaimed. "I did not know there were any in the kingdom."

  "I believe these are the only ones," Agnna said. "The master's grandfather brought the seeds back from foreign lands in his youth and planted them here. While the other, more common berries may be eaten by all, those yellow ones are reserved for the lord's table alone."

  "I look forward to tasting them again," Rosamond said. She dropped to her knees and reached for the nearest plant, whose flowers were just beginning to open. The leaves curled up to touch her fingers, like a cat begging to be stroked. "I predict a bountiful crop of cloudberries this year." As she caressed the leaves, she felt the plants' delighted acquiescence to her desire for more berries.

  "They are called princess berries here, my lady, on account of the lost princess. The master's grandfather travelled with her until she was lost. The berry seeds were a gift to her from some foreign queen, but when m'lord's grandfather brought her things to the king and told him of her loss, the king refused to allow the queen's gifts in the castle, swearing they were cursed, like the other gifts the evil queen gave the princess before she died. So he planted them here instead, in her memory."

  This was a story Rosamond had not heard before. Perhaps her nursemaids had not thought it fit for a young princess's ears, to hear the grisly fate of one of her ancestors. Curses could be as cruel as their casters. Yet Agnna knew the story. "How did she die?" Rosamond asked.

  Agnna shrugged. "No one knows. The curse took her, m'lord's grandfather used to say. She lay like a marble statue in the garden, and the plants would attack those who tried to reach her. He called and called, but she did not wake, and that's how he knew she was dead."

  A princess gifted with plant magic, just like her, Rosamond thought, pleased. Not that it had served her particularly well, but even Rosamond's own modest powers were no match for a powerful enchantress, as the evil queen must have been. Margareta had been a much more pleasant monarch.

  "Tell me more about the plants in this garden," Rosamond ordered. She only half-listened to the girl's rambling as she trailed her fingers through everything green she could touch, for the plants themselves whispered a far more complex history than any human could.

  SIXTEEN

  Siward rode through the outlying villages in a sort of fog, though the air was clear. No, the fog was in his head. Green-eyed and smiling, the mysterious Rosamond haunted him by day and lay beside him in his dreams. Well, not always beside him. Sometimes beneath him and one particularly tantalising time she sat astride him, but...

  Siward shook his head. He was supposed to be listening to petitions from the villagers, making judgements and settling disputes. Not thinking about bedding the beautiful woman who had agreed to be his wife. He had another week or two of this before he could head home to see her again.

  It had sat ill with him to leave her alone in his house, with no one but his servants for company, but she had been too weak to even open her eyes when he'd laid her in his bed and kissed her farewell. A chaste kiss, for all he wanted more, because an honourable man did not steal so much as a kiss from a sleeping woman.

  He did not doubt that his household would care for her as bes
t they could, but they had not ridden miles with her lolling lifelessly in their arms, as he had. Yet she'd seemed so strong and vital that first night in his arms, crying out for more until he granted her desire.

  He refused to regret it. Their one night of passion would allow him to take that beautiful creature as his willing wife. More than he deserved, perhaps, which was why he worried now. Destiny had given her to him, but if cruel fate saw fit to steal her away from him so soon...

  Siward prayed that she would regain her strength in his house, instead of wasting away to nothing. Perhaps the place he had found her was magical, granting her strength that waned the further she travelled away from it.

  No, that could not be true. She had nearly fallen when she'd first tried to stand up. He could scarcely wait to go home, when he hoped she would fall into his arms again. Not from weakness, but from sheer joy at seeing him again. Siward had to laugh at himself for that foolish thought. How could he bring a girl joy when he'd barely known her for a night? A night where they'd had little time or breath for conversation.

  Yet he knew if she asked him to, he would claim the crown for her. There was no doubt in his mind that she would make the perfect queen. Gracious and beautiful, fearless yet soulful...no wonder she was always in his thoughts.

  Every glimpse of green reminded him of her eyes. Every time a leaf brushed against him, he thought of the night they'd shared in their bed of roses.

  Finally, he made his last judgement at Akos, a tiny village at the foot of the mountains that marked the kingdom's easternmost boundary. Though they offered him hospitality for the night, Siward refused, wishing to sleep in the forest instead. Not that he told the village headman that, of course. He told the man he was needed in the capital, to solve the matter of the succession. An excuse that had the virtue of being true.

  He waved to the townspeople as he rode off, his saddlebags filled with provisions he did not need but could not refuse. Siward intended to spend the night in a small dell he had found on his way to Akos, where the soft grass had cushioned him as he spent the night enchanted by vivid dreams of Rosamond.

  Soon, he promised himself, he would be home. They would be wed and he could do all the things he'd dreamed about with his very real wife instead of his illusory goddess.

  SEVENTEEN

  Slowly but surely, Rosamond regained her strength. The garden bloomed as happily as she did. More than once, she had overheard the servants talking about it, but she refused to be deterred by idle talk. When she saw her father again, she wanted to appear as hale and healthful as the day she departed for King Erik and Queen Margareta's court.

  After four weeks of spending every day in the garden, Rosamond decided it was time. On the morrow, she would don her finest gown – or at least the least faded gown in the chest of old clothes Draga had foisted on her – and proceed up to the palace, where she would seek an audience with the king and queen, and explain her plan for the future.

  The best of intentions rarely survive until morning, especially when illness sets in. Rosamond's improving appetite disappeared overnight, and what she did manage to swallow she only threw right back up again. She felt dizzy and weak, as she had when she had first arrived.

  Rosamond had no more time for weakness, she decided, as she dragged herself outside to the garden. Reaching deep into a bramble bush, she let the thorns pierce her skin as she commanded the plant to help her heal herself.

  Her heart beat loud in her ears, as it always did when she attempted magic on herself, deafening her to all other sound. Or it should have, but for an eager thrumming she had never heard before. What was it? she asked the plants as she searched for the source. The answers she received sounded like saplings and seeds, which made no sense. No plant she knew sounded like a rapidly beating heart.

  And then she knew. Reaching deep inside herself, Rosamond found the sound's source. A heart so tiny she could scarcely see it, but a human heart nonetheless. Within her, she carried Warin's child – and, after her, the next heir to the throne.

  EIGHTEEN

  Contrary to his usual custom, Siward left his horse to his groom's care instead of caring for the animal himself. It had been eight weeks...nay, fifty-eight days since he had last seen Rosamond, and he longed for her the same way the first spring flowers sought the sun. He needed her.

  Draga greeted him in the great hall, asking inane questions about what he wanted prepared for dinner. Siward waved away her concerns, for he had only one thought in his head.

  "How is she? Where is she?" he asked eagerly.

  Draga's brow creased. "The sick girl you brought?"

  Siward prayed with all his might that she was not still ill. "Rosamond."

  "She's in the garden. She's always in the garden," Draga said.

  Exactly where she should be, Siward thought as he bolted for the door. It was the height of summer, and everything bloomed so brightly he didn't see her at first. The green gown and white shift she wore underneath blended so well with the leaves and blossoms behind her that he might have missed her entirely had she not moved.

  Her face lit up with joy, just as he'd imagined it would. He raced across the garden and swept her into his arms, heedless of who saw as he kissed her with more passion than he'd ever shown anyone else in his life.

  Siward wanted more. He wanted to throw her to the ground, tear off her gown and make love to her like he had every night in his dreams, but he knew he could not do such a thing. Not to her. Her body yielded to him so readily even now that he did not dare abuse her trust. Not again. He would not take her to bed until they were properly married, he swore.

  "You are home sooner than I thought. Your servants said it would be another two weeks at least," she said, her smile lighting up the morning brighter than the sun.

  "I could not stay away from you," he confessed. "I want us to be wed as soon as possible. Tomorrow, if we can."

  She drew away from him, bowing her head. "First, I must speak to my father."

  Of course! In his eagerness, how could he have forgotten? "I will speak to him. I will ask for your hand and all will be well." No father in the kingdom would refuse him, Siward knew. "What is his name? I shall summon him, and we shall have his answer before nightfall."

  This did not please Rosamond, who shook her head violently. "You cannot summon him. Not my father. I must speak to him, and only then can you ask him for anything."

  Perhaps her father was a nobleman who thought to claim the kingship for himself. A man with such pride would not agree to Siward's suit until his future son-in-law sat firmly on the throne. So be it. There was nothing he would not do for her, and ruling a kingdom was a small price to pay for happiness with her.

  "It shall be as you say," he conceded. "On the morrow, I will go to the castle to attend to some important business, while you speak to your father. Once my business and your conversation are concluded, then I will speak to him. We will be happily wed before this summer is over, I promise."

  "I believe you."

  She did not leave his side for the rest of the day. Even at supper, they shared a bench, while Draga muttered under her breath. Siward wanted to laugh – surely his housekeeper had been in love before. If she had, she would understand the bond between him and his betrothed.

  It felt almost painful to part with her to go to separate sleeping chambers, but he forced himself to do no more than kiss her good night before vanishing into one of the seldom-used guest chambers. After all, he consoled himself, she would invade his dreams the moment his eyes closed.

  He did not have to wait long. Sleep stole over him like a magic spell, where the witch was his wife-to-be and he would not have it any other way.

  NINETEEN

  Rosamond refused to sleep alone once Warin had returned. She belonged in his bed, and she'd seen her own desire mirrored in his eyes from the moment he arrived. So she waited until she thought he was asleep, and crept into his bedchamber. Shucking off her shift, she slid under the blankets beside
him.

  She took his hands in hers and placed them on her body, stroking his fingers along her skin until he took control and caressed her on his own. His soft kisses turned hungry as his hands pushed her legs apart, just like she wanted him to, before he thrust deep inside her.

  Rosamond gasped in surprise and pleasure. Tonight, he needed no urging as he drove her to heights of pleasure she had never known before, not just once but over and over until her frenzied cries mingled with his.

  When they were both sated, she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms, but Rosamond knew she must return to her own chamber, at least until they were wed. She needed to be well-rested for her interview with her father on the morrow.

  TWENTY

  "So we are all in agreement, then? Until we find a way to break down the Wall, or another claimant with a more direct line of descent from the royal family makes himself known, Lord Siward shall be king."

  Siward blinked, not sure he had heard Lord Vamos correctly. For as long as he could remember, and as recently as the last time the King's Council convened, Lord Vamos had been his most vocal opponent. His claim to the throne had been tenuous at best – a bastard he claimed was a by-blow of the king's, three or four generations into the past. Lord Vamos didn't even have proof of his claim, for the bastard girl had never been acknowledged by her royal father, and the child she'd borne her husband might have been a bastard, too, if the current lord's senescent great-grandfather had not decided to marry her scant weeks before taking to his deathbed. Which begged the question of whether the current lord's grandfather had been conceived in his father's deathbed...