Allerleirauh

by Chantal Gadoury

  “He would be strong and brave,” I found my mother often saying to her ladies in waiting. “He would be just like his father. A good and just König.” But as she’d turn her gaze in my direction, often finding me in the corner of the room practicing one of the many tasks she wished for me to perfect. She always found fault in me, no matter how hard I tried to do my best.

  “Why can’t you be more accomplished? Talented?” She’d ask bitterly over musical notes not struck correctly on the harpsichord, or loose stitching in my embroidery. I never knew how to respond to my mother without turning my cheek away, doing what I could to hide the flush on my cheeks. I was the shame she had to wear every day.

  To her, I was the reason why my father drifted from her and her bed. I was the one failure in her nearly perfect life and now, with her passing, she would be mine. With each passing month since her death, many of the courtiers remarked how ‘very much like my mother’ I had become. The more I heard this, the more I wished for it to not be true. I never wanted to be like her.

  My father began his search for his new wife only after a few short months. The councilmen had been quick to move into his study with lists and lists of eligible women in and around the kingdom. His courtiers, and more importantly, Lord Haven, reminded my father the importance of finally having a male heir, and securing a wife who could fulfil this role.

  “Only with a son, my König, would Tränen feel at peace in your passing,” Lord Haven said many an evening at the dinner table, surrounded in the dark finery. “Without a son, it would leave neighboring Königreiche the chance to fight for Tränen and rule. We wouldn’t want everything that you’ve created and kept fall apart.”

  “And what would you have me do?” my father growled a response, as a servant poured wine into his goblet over his shoulder. Lord Haven returned his question with a placate grin.

  “We invite eligible maidens to the castle. From the selection, you take a bride. Marry her, Your Majesty, and have a son. Avoid any chance of a war or the ruin of the Königreich.”

  War had always been on the lips of the courtiers; war with the neighboring lands, and without the reassurance of a future king, Tränen would no doubt fall into the wrong hands. It was a true fear of my father, and to Lord Haven; power was fickle – it could belong to one man and in an instant, another by the slash of a sword.

  “It is your duty as our König to ensure the future for not only your people, but for your daughter, Aurelia, as well.”

  I watched my poor father slid his fingers through his hair, almost as if he wanted to tug every strand away until he was left with nothing on his head. Agreeing to Lord Haven’s insistence, a selection of women began to come to Tränen in hopes to gain my father’s favor and become his bride.

  I watched as he entertained the many possible brides, only to turn all of them away for one reason. None of the women held the most valuable piece to my mother’s promise: her golden hair.

  The court endured two years’ worth of parties and galas; two years of visits from hundreds of women with their gowns, jewels, and high expectations of marriage. The maids of the court endured the king’s wrath as each party resulted in failure. My father, enraged by the weight of his promise, began to take out his anger on everyone around him. What began as tantrums during dinners with a sudden push against serving plates and pitchers of wine, slowly turned into overturned desks in his study and pink, flushed cheeks of serving maids after he’d slap them. My father felt powerless in his inability in finding the promised wife, and he knew time was of the essence. His abuses began to affect the prospective wives as they witnessed his increasing aggression. Many of the potential brides upon their experiences with his increasing temper quickly left, returning to their homes. Rumors began to spread over the land of his maligning demonstrations. Invitations that had once been sought for, began to be returned declined or even, unanswered.

  On a cold, wet, and grey morning—much like the day we buried my mother—I found myself staring at my father who stood solemnly with Lord Haven. There were dark circles under his eyes, as though he had barely slept in the two years gone by. He looked pale and thinner than before. My mother’s large tombstone lay between us, already turning a shade of grey with decay; a sad sort of irony for my mother’s vanity.

  He spoke to Lord Haven and turned to glance in my direction just as my golden hair was caught in the morning glow of the emerging sun. His blue eyes were wide and a small, determined smile lurked in the corner of his lips; one of conquering. I suddenly felt as though I were drowning, as a thick sinking sense of dread filled and overwhelmed me.

  2

  “The König wishes to dance with you, princess.” I felt Lord Haven’s touch on my shoulder as he nudged me toward my father’s extended hand. Usually, most of my time during my father’s balls was spent in the shadows of the grand hall sipping on the provided punch or eating pieces of the fruit provided on long silver trays scattered among tables. The tables were decorated with tall golden candelabras, and long streams of white and blood-red table cloths. It was warm from the many guests, while the mixture scents of roasted meats and flowers filled the room.

  Even on the anniversary of my mother’s death, my father decided to host a ball, generously giving his attention to those who still sought his affections in marriage. He filled the ballroom with the finest decorations, many of which were encrusted with the brightest and most beautiful jewels. Every table was filled with foods and fruits, and accented with bouquets of knapweeds, edelweiss and peonies. The high chandeliers, which hung over the guests, glittered in the flickering candlelight. He would only host the most talented musicians, sending invitations far and wide to outlying kingdoms for geniuses and savants.

  My father only ever chose the most beautiful and most charming to dance with. But tonight was different. Everything about this party was different. The selection of the women invited were few. It was obvious my father’s options were growing slimmer. My father’s hope in finding his golden-haired wife was diminishing.

  As I was led to him, I took in the sight of my father’s selection of women surrounding me. They were adorned with layers of rubies, sapphires and emeralds. But all of them wore different shades of yellow on their heads. None of them were any match for my mother.

  I stared frozen at my father’s hand as he extended it to me.

  “Take his hand, Princess,” Lord Haven hissed at me, nudging me harder as he pulled the glass from my hands. The guests were watching the two of us, waiting to see if I would accept.

  “Aurelia,” my father said with a grin as he took my hand. I could only imagine how pink my cheeks appeared as I raised my hand to my father’s shoulder.

  It seemed as soon as my father drew me onto the dance floor, soft whispers of gossip bubbled up from the crowd; all eyes were on him and me.

  Something changed in my father. He held me more tightly in his embrace, sweeping me up and swirling me around the floor. His blue eyes glassed over, becoming strangely unfamiliar. I knew there was a change in the room and in his presence since the encounter at my mother’s grave. There was a change in the way he watched me.

  “You have grown to become quite a beautiful woman,” he murmured softly against my hair. I was almost sure I could smell the strong odor of wine on his breath.

  My father’s hand came to rest on the small of my back, as his thumb from his other hand brushed against the crook of my neck. As he twirled me around the room, he pressed against me more closely, his breath washing over my earlobe.

  Breathless and a little dizzy, I pushed myself away from him and took a step back. Danger. The word resonated in my head and a memory from just a few years ago flashed in my head of the young maid in the hall with a tattered dress and tear-stained cheeks. She haunted me. My stomach twisted, as my eyes began to burn with the thought.

  I knew the cruelty my father harbored just beyond his regal exterior. A warning twisted in my gut, pushing me to run.

  “Aurelia? Come, fin
ish the dance with me,” he beckoned with an outstretched hand.

  I took another step back and shook my head. I pressed a hand against my forehead and another against my waist, hoping the paleness of my face would allow me to take my leave.

  “I think I’d like to rest,” I replied softly, giving my father a low bow.

  I was surprised when I felt his hand on my back as he followed me to sit. With the snap of his fingers, several servants surrounded us with choices of fine wines and food.

  “I hoped perhaps you would allow me to treat you,” he replied as he cradled my hand in his. “Join me. I would like to speak with you privately.”

  Succumbing to his attentiveness, I followed my father as he guided me to his and my mother’s thrones; hers sat empty—alone. I paused in front of his chair as he took a seat and then gestured towards the queen’s. Did he truly wish for me to take her seat? He studied me, amusement bright in his eyes.

  “Sit,” he commanded. Only at this, I moved to sit on the edge of the throne. It felt odd as my fingers dug in to the arm of the chair. A coldness settle in the pit of my stomach, causing a deep shudder through me. I could feel my father’s dark gaze trail over me.

  “I feel quite guilty, Aurelia,” he confessed as the corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile. My cheeks burned as I lowered my gaze to my fingers knotting in my lap.

  “Why?” I asked gently, tilting my head curiously.

  “Because, I feel as though I hardly know you. While you were being educated, I was busy ruling the Königreich. But here you are, a grown woman.” He lifted his fingers to his chin as he smiled wider. “You remind me of the Königin.”

  I wanted to cringe at his words. My whole life, I longed for attention from my parents, and yet as my father spoke to me now—gazed upon me—I knew this was not the way I wanted to be recognized. I did not want to remind anyone, least of all my father, of my mother.

  “If you could have anything, anything at all, what would you wish for?” he asked, leaning on the arm of his throne, pushing his face closer to mine.

  Perhaps he was expecting me to answer the way my mother would have. Perhaps he expected me to demand jewels and finery. But I knew I truly wanted one thing—one thing for me, for him, and for the kingdom.

  “For your happiness, sire,” I replied genuinely and bowed my head in reverence. My father seemed to approve my response and smiled.

  “You’re quite considerate, Aurelia,” he said with a chuckle. “I do like that about you.”

  “I have always tried to be considerate, sire,” I said, shifting uncomfortably.

  “Indeed.” His eyebrow twitched with curiosity. “How far would you be willing to go for my own pleasure? My own happiness?”

  “What could bring you more pleasure than this?” I asked as I gestured out toward the courtiers, who danced to the string and horn melody filling the ballroom. “Your court is devoted to you.”

  “Many things would bring me pleasure,” he said with a smirk. “Are you devoted to me, Aurelia? Can I trust that you will be as devoted and loyal to me, if not more than them?”

  “I am as much of a servant as they are to you, father,” I replied.

  I turned my gaze back toward the dancers again, watching as the men and women pressed their hands together and made large circles around the room.

  “Your answers truly please me,” he finally said after an extended moment. “I wish to please you.”

  “Please me?” I asked as I turned to look at him. Why was my father suddenly so interested in my happiness? He smiled warmly and nodded.

  “Of course. If I were to send you gifts, would this please you? Could this be a unification between the two of us? I wish to be closer to you. I wish to know you.”

  I spent years wishing to hear those words. Once, I desired nothing more than to share a relationship with my father and mother, and yet after all this time, everything felt different now. Who my father had been to me as a child, and who he was now were becoming dramatically different.

  “I wish to see you more at these parties as well,” my father continued. “You are of age now, are you not? It is time for you to take your place in my court. To be seen.”

  The possibility of interacting with my father’s court had never been offered to me, at least, not so openly. I began to wonder if this would open the possibility of a marriage arrangement among the nobility. I had grown up knowing my role as the König’s daughter would result in a marriage to better help my father’s kingdom. The idea of possibly becoming someone’s wife sent a jolt of both hope and fear through my heart.

  I replied with a silent nod.

  “Would it please you to join me?” My father asked, his blue eyes brightening with amusement. I slowly nodded again. I was apprehensive when answering his questions. It felt almost as if he were asking much more underneath the surface of his words.

  “Then you shall,” he replied and grinned. He took my hand and carefully lifted it to his lips. I did all that I could to resist the urge to pull my hand away from his. His eyes pierced mine as he pressed a kiss against my skin, sending a cold shiver down my spine. All the hair on my arm stood in revolt. I pulled my hand away as quickly as I could before darting to my feet. Hastily, I curtsied to him. He nodded in my direction and I took the opportunity to leave.

  3

  A flood of relief filled me as I slipped into my room, finding Myriah, my nursemaid, waiting for me with a warm bath. She smiled as I closed the door and slumped against it.

  “You look exhausted,” she murmured warmly and gestured towards the wooden basin. “As I expected. I had a bath drawn for you.”

  A bath became almost a routine after every one of my father’s parties. I smiled at her and pushed myself from the door.

  “Thank you, Myriah.”

  Myriah knew well how to tend to me. She had been doing so since the day of my birth. She was so much more to me than just a mother or servant, but my friend. After challenging days of disastrous needlepoint and failed studies, Myriah was always there to wipe away my frustrated tears. She spent countless evenings telling me stories, pulling laughter from me when I was certain I couldn’t. She had the healing touch for when I was sick, staying up well into the night fighting back fevers and coughs. Truthfully, she was one of the only people I had ever learned to truly trust and love in the castle.

  Myriah picked up the fire iron near the hearth and pushed around a few of the logs, making room for more firewood. She tucked a strand of her salt and pepper hair behind her ear and brushed her hands on the apron around her waist.

  “You were later than most evenings at your father’s parties. Did you enjoy yourself?” She gazed warmly at me.

  I began to peel away the layers of my dress and laid them out carefully on the canopied bed.

  “I suppose. It was a little strange,” I admitted as I pulled a few pins from my hair, allowing more of my golden locks to cascade down around my shoulders.

  She wrinkled her nose at my reply. “Strange? How so?”

  “Father wanted to dance with me. He ignored the other women, and then later spoke of wishing to spend more time with me.”

  I remained in my long chemise as I approached the hot water. Myriah came to my side and began to lift the chemise away while I held my hair off to the side. With a relieved sigh, I stepped into the warm water.

  “What do you think of that, Myriah?” I asked, resting my arm on the brim of the tub as I looked to her. She seemed to hesitate, her lips silently moving as her gaze darted from mine.

  “Myriah?” I asked again, wiping a bead of sweat from my temple. Myriah shifted in her step and let out a soft, exasperated sigh.

  “I think this could be a good step in the right direction. But I beseech you . . . be careful.”

  There suddenly came a knock on the door, startling the moment between Myriah and me. My gaze bounced to the entry and back to Myriah who wrinkled her nose, disgruntled.

  She moved to the door, pulling
it open slightly. There was an annoyance in her greeting to the person behind the door: “What do you want, boy?”

  I could hear the faint voice of another servant replying, “His Majesty, the König, wishes for me to deliver this gift to the princess Aurelia in hopes to please her.”

  I lifted my chin, trying to see if I could catch a glimpse of what he carried, but Myriah’s wide skirts eclipsed the doorway.

  “Do you know what it is?” she asked.

  “I do not, fräulein,” the messenger replied.

  Myriah gave a nod and shut the door on him. She turned with the small box in her hands.

  “What is it?” I asked, leaning on the side with my elbows.

  She shrugged and pushed the box into my wet hands. I looked at her inquisitively and then down at the dark, velvet-covered box. The box was small and delicate and my heart raced with excitement over what could be inside.

  “I do not know, princess,” she replied and knelt beside me. Her brow wrinkled with the same curiosity I felt. “Open it.”

  I did, revealing a small delicate, golden chain with an opal stone, small diamonds encircling it. I had never received anything so beautiful from my father. A small note lay beside the chain with a quick dash of my father’s handwriting.

  ‘I ask that you come to the gardens tomorrow morning.’

  I quickly closed the box, almost afraid the elements of the room could tarnish it. I couldn’t stop my grin from spreading wider as I opened the box again and gently removed the bracelet, fitting it over my wrist. The opal and surrounding diamonds shimmered in the candlelight. Perhaps this could be a new start for my father and me. Perhaps now things could be different for us—we could be closer. I smiled even more brightly as I gazed up at Myriah.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said softly. “It’s so beautiful.”

  “It is,” she replied with a nod. But there was a lack of excitement on her face.