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The first night with them, she was vomited on. She read many romantic poets and novels in secret, so she had some idea of how it was meant to go. One man, one woman, gentle, love in both of their eyes. Her first time on her honeymoon was rough and with three at once.
After the slipper fit, Julian wasted no time in marrying them, finding the first priest he could, not even allowing her to change out of her dress. “You are so beautiful. Let us be married in the outfits we found each other in!”
“Yes!” she held his hands and smiled back. The priest joined them in matrimony, and Agnes knew at least the wedding bed wouldn't be a surprise. When Julian crossed that threshold, spilled her into bed, and closed the door, a beast came out in him.
“Go on, strip.”
“Alright,” Agnes had no issues with her dresses after years of taking care of herself, so she easily reached around and undid her coat and dress buttons, untying her shoes, and lying on the bed in her shift, pantalettes, and stockings. “Okay, I'm ready for you!”
“Oh, she's ready for us!” His two friends appeared from the shadows, staring at her body.
“Are they going to watch?” Agnes tried to tease as the three advanced on her.
“Watch? We don't really watch.” The one with curly hair said as the three quickly tossed aside their own clothing.
“Yeah, we participate.” The one with straight hair kneeled behind Agnes and pulled her into a sitting position, teasing her anal opening.
“It's my honeymoon! Shouldn't it just be between him and me?!” Agnes demanded, but one of them shoved a cloth into her mouth, and that was that.
She was bounced for what felt like hours on the penis of one, and then roughly fingered by the second, and when it was time for Julian, she could only breathe heavily from exhaustion, tears flowing down her face.
Julian was the one who took over ownership of her vaginal opening, thrusting into her so vigorously that he threw up all over her front, likely drunk from the alcohol he had been drinking that night. It reeked of cherries and raspberries, and bled a red stain on her chest. He climaxed into her, groaned, sent his friends away, and fell asleep beside her, leaving her to lie there with rotting fruit on her chest and his seed inside her, dripping out, like the scarlet stain congealing on her chest. She took a deep breath and wiped her tears away.
It was for the money.
°°°
When Julian forked over money for her to bury her father, it came too late, as he was a skeleton and there was little left to bury. Still, Agnes forced a smile, thanked Julian, and did her dutiful sobs at the funeral, thanking everyone who came and saying it was such a tragedy that he died.
“Where's your stepmother and stepsisters? Don't they have a right to be here?” Someone asked her as they were all leaving the grounds.
“My stepmother….declined to come. I believe she's ill.” She hadn't heard from that woman since she left and Agnes was glad for it. As for her stepsisters…she didn't know. The last time she saw them, Elvira was lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, stinking of blood and laudanum, looking up at her with an unreadable expression, and Agnes looked down at her.
What did become of them? Did they leave? Somehow she couldn't see either of them tolerating life with their mother if they didn't have to, at least, not Elvira. Alma, she knew less, but she assumed it was the same for her too.
If they had left, however, Agnes would be unable to communicate with them, write a letter, or do anything, as she didn't know where they went. Swedlandia was a huge country, and it was possible they went to Norsk or Polski, or maybe even further west to Franca or Deutschland. She would never know.
Since her father died months ago, Agnes wasn't expected to be in mourning anymore, which she was thankful for. She had none of her old dresses, all left behind at the house and given to her stepsisters, but there were plenty of old dresses from ladies-in-waiting to tide her over until the dressmaker could make her some selections. Not being in mourning made her choices easy, though she favored simple patterns and colors in outdated dresses with wide skirts that swept a room and demanded attention whenever she walked around. Her current pick was a plain green dress with cream stripes and a few touches of lace for the collar and cuffs, with a silver ring to carry a Bible to be worn around her waist or wrist.
Agnes didn't have a Bible, so she instead carried a poetry book with her, not something of Prince Julian’s but rather another one about flowers and birds, pretty metaphors that were meaningless in the long run but at least she didn't need to think about his penis anymore.
She saw it every night regardless, a hateful, meaty thing that made her insides burn and scream from the fire when he thrust into her. He didn't throw up anymore, that was only for their honeymoon, but Agnes found the honeymoon was the most pleasant sexual experience with him.
She sat next to the windows most of the day, toying with the poetry book or just gazing out the window, watching people work the grounds or ride horses around. She liked the horses the most, and on days when she felt relatively normal, she would hurry down and pet the horses, becoming lost in their hay scent.
Agnes missed Isak deeply. What hurt the most was the fact that he was illiterate, being a servant and his family not having access to even the rudimentary education poor families sometimes received. Because he was, he wouldn't be able to write a letter to her either when the news broke of her engagement and marriage to the prince, and her heart broke when she wondered what he thought of that.
She laid her head on the freezing window.
“I'll always love you,” she promised in a whisper. She remembered running her hands through his hair, laughing at his jokes, her heated blushes as he helped her onto the horses, and the smell of hay that always persisted whenever they had sex in the stables.
Tears dotted the windowpane.
°°°
Julian's father was still alive, and spoiled his son, letting him do whatever he pleased. As a result, he was often out hunting, leaving Agnes to explore the manor herself, wasting her time in boredom. She knew how to do domestic service, but realized very quickly that was no longer expected of her on a day when she asked some of the scullery maids if they needed help scrubbing, and they stared at her as if she was a foreigner washed up on the beach and speaking another language.
“You're the princess. You're not expected to do menial labor,” one of her ladies-in-waiting, Anne, the one she liked the least because she looked like a chipmunk, informed her when Agnes told her of the incident.
“Housework is basically all I know how to do.” Agnes said. Her hair was down like it normally was and Anne brushed it slowly. “I was raised as a gentlewoman, so I remember a few things, but they treated me as a servant. I learned that much quicker,”
“It's just seen as inappropriate.”
“Hm.” Agnes stared forward at her reflection. “I suppose I'll have to find something new to do.”
She did have a small desk in her room, and wrote occasionally there, though it was never anything of real interest. Just thoughts she couldn't articulate as speech, so she wrote them down. Anne once suggested she try to compose music, as she liked to sing, but her one attempt was messy and nonsensical.
After hunting trips, Julian said there was nothing like having some sex, so whenever he returned, Agnes learned to be naked and in bed already for him, spread out and available, so he just had to insert himself in and thrust. She was glad he no longer brought his friends along, and happy he never noticed her tears.
°°°
Agnes was no fool. Cold as she was, she also knew nobody could get through life entirely alone without any friends, and in a place as hostile as the manor, she knew she especially needed them. Anne was alright to talk to, as was Viktoria, but she especially clicked with her other lady-in-waiting, Jadwiga, because Agnes’ mother came from Polski too.
The weather was still nice, so the maids arranged a picnic for Agnes, Anne, Viktoria, and Jadwiga, who all wore shades of pastel blues, greens, and purples, with huge skirts and lacy bows everywhere. They were instructed by the king to not go very far, so Anne set out a blanket beside the garden, still filled with the late blossoms of the summer, and Agnes instantly lay herself down on it, subtly squirming her legs around and itching her crotch through her dress, wanting the burning sensation to vanish.
“Oh, what food is there? Hopefully something good!” Viktoria pulled open the flowery basket and started setting out plates and glass bottles of lemonade. She was tall and noble in her features, with striking black curls and blue eyes, though her teeth were subtly crooked and she couldn't hide her accent. She then pulled out covered plates and bowls and revealed sandwiches, a bowl of cold vegetables, fruit slices, soup, and an array of desserts that one could eat with their hands. “We are being so spoiled!”
“Aren't you worried about getting fat?” Agnes asked softly, serving herself as much as she could fit on her plate.
“You're the princess now, if you get fat, everyone else has to too, don't you know?”
She squeezed her thighs together and subtly scratched again.
“It's so nice out here,” Jadwiga leaned back in her seat, only having lemonade and a sandwich, which she took tiny nibbles out of. Bees and butterflies flew around them, and farther off in the distance was the bustle of servants going about their day and doing their jobs. Jadwiga was short and thin, with a flat nose and lips, and insisted on wearing her brown curls in unflattering pigtails and ribbons. Even her blue eyes were dull.
“I'm not looking forward to winter,” Viktoria huffed.
“I love winter. The snow is beautiful, with how it sparkles at night and the softness of the layers,” Agnes said. Growing up in Swedlandia, she never knew a winter without the glittering pile of snow, nor the joy her father had on his face watching her run and roll around in it.
“It's so cold though!”
“Cold is a minor payoff for beauty,”
Anne said nothing throughout the whole conversation, just drinking her lemonade. Her cheeks and nose were chubby, and so was her whole body. The only part of her figure that constantly got compliments was her flowing red-gold hair and striking hazel eyes. Agnes ate too, not focusing on what was going into her mouth. Only one spoon and bowl were brought for the soup, so the four girls all took turns slurping soup from the same spoon, passing it around. The conversations only started to become more girlishly naughty when they ate the fruit and desserts, sitting up instead of lounging around.
“So, girls, any cute guys we've been seeing?” Jadwiga asked bluntly, biting into an apple with a loud crunch.
“We're ladies-in-waiting, we're meant to be virgins!” Viktoria teased, eating a petite-four.
“Hogwash. Nobody is a virgin anymore. I'll tell you, my first guy was when I still worked as a maid. He told me he wanted to see down below, so I threw up my dress and let him have a look!”
“That's not sexual.” Agnes said, peeling an orange with her fingernails. “I thought the conversation was about having sex.”
“Looking down there is quite sexual. He fainted when he saw!”
Anne laughed. “I have a steady boyfriend, he drives the coach. We've had sex a few times but nothing special.”
“I'm not into men. I have to pay the maids to get them interested but they're very good at showing why we don't need men,” Viktoria said, making the other two laugh harder.
Agnes finally peeled the skin off her orange and pulled one of the slices out, taking a bite and letting the juice run down her chin and stick to her hands. She knew they would ask about Julian, so she filled her mind with Isak instead, the seed spilled on her dress which glowed in the moonlight like it was a precious gem itself. Julian wasn't who she was seeing; it was Isak, always Isak.
“Why are you crying?” Anne asked in alarm, and Agnes shook as a sob burst out of her chest.
“I….I…” she couldn't admit to them her love of Isak, her hate for Julian, her itchy and burning crotch. What would be her fate, if she tossed away everything she worked so hard for? No matter what, she'd never return to her greedy stepmother in that rotting house.
“Might be your cycles,” Jadwiga suggested.
She nodded quickly, happy for the excuse, though she hadn't had her cycles in over a month. “Yes! They can make me loopy,”
The girls continued to picnic and talk cheerfully for the remainder of the afternoon, only starting to pack up when the sun was setting.
°°°
It wasn't a strange admission in this era, but Agnes had never known her mother. Her father told her stories, of course. He was a minor noble with a house and land, and she was a member of the merchant class who recently moved to Swedlandia to try and get a new start. Upon meeting at a market during a winter festival, they just clicked.
However, her mother was always weak, apparently, and couldn't last more than a year after the birth, and passed away. Agnes always envisioned her as blonde and beautiful like her, buried in her wedding dress, the nicest outfit she ever owned, to be an eternal bride in Heaven. Death seemed beautiful to her as a child.
She never mourned the idea of a mother, as her father took great care of her. Never resenting a daughter for an heir, he made sure she was educated and provided for, never even having her worry as their funds dwindled and he needed more support.
“Papa, if I could suggest….marriage?”
Marriage was romantic and always solved problems in her books. It made sense to suggest such a proposition. If her father were poor, he just needed to marry a rich woman he loved.
“Marriage? But I'm not young. Any willing woman would also be old and would likely have her own children.” He took her hands. “Are you sure you could handle living with other people here?”
A sister would be lovely! Agnes longed for the familiar company of a sister her age, who could brush her hair and tie her shoes and giggle about everything insignificant that seemed to matter only to teenagers. She said so with a smile.
“Then it's settled. I don't know how long it'll take, but I'll do it. I'm getting married!”
“I'm so happy, Papa!”
°°°
With fall bearing down on them, Julian was barely around, wanting to enjoy the last of the hunting, which suited Agnes just fine. She recently discovered a love of gardening, and not just the pretty kind that women were meant to enjoy, the nitty-gritty gardening where her elbows were up to the dirt, she threw food waste into the soil, and had to sweat and swear as she dug holes, pulled out weeds, and carried bags of soil around.
Her ladies-in-waiting never accompanied her for it, but she didn't mind. They embroidered with her, and that was enough. Instead, she became close to the gardener and various maids, especially when it came time to harvest. A few fruits and vegetables were planted in the kitchen garden, and every summer and fall, Agnes was told to expect a round of harvesting, which she completely lost herself in. It was monotonous work of a good kind, picking and tossing things into the basket she carried around with her.
Since nobody paid her mind, she often sang to herself as she harvested, picking fruit and placing it in the basket, smiling at any birds who chirped at her, angry for the sudden intrusion.
The best was when there was more than expected. That was when Agnes would give the leftovers to children who lived there, who were the kids of the other servants and very minor nobles. She'd tie a huge bundle of fruit up with a ribbon, carry it into the yard, and call for them to come. When they did, she'd bend over and toss one to each kid.
“She's so motherly,” Maids watching the exchange would sigh. “So maternal.”
“Yes, she would make a good mother one day,”
“If the prince is a man, he would place a baby in her belly," the gardener snickered to the stableboy. “Claim her as his prize,”
“Isn't being married to such a beauty enough?”
°°°
Agnes could deal with an itchy crotch, but soon she started to get nauseous, and decided that was worse. Sitting and squirming and scratching at her desk in private was one thing, it was entirely another to excuse herself from gardening or singing and expel the contents of her stomach into the nearest watercloset. At first she assumed it was food poisoning, but it was persistent. Every afternoon, when the rays of the sun hit her, she would throw up.
She secretly sobbed when she remembered what it meant.
She was pregnant with Julian's child.
What was she going to do?
She jumped off her bed and paced around her room, her dress sweeping around her like always. Agnes had similar conversations with Isak before. Aborting the fetus was possible when it was a bastard of a servant, but she would be in trouble if anyone learned she deliberately miscarried a royal heir. Julian would be cruel….his friends likely crueler. Yet she couldn't bring someone related to Julian into the world. She feared they would be cruel like him. She put a hand on her stomach.
If he knew, she would never leave the palace again. He would tell everyone, keep her under lock and key. Everyone would make sure she carried it to term, her one purpose being fulfilled. Her face hardened.
She could not live like that anymore. Her father was buried, she had no interest in her house anymore. The money was no longer a concern.
Sooner or later, she would have to make a run for it.
°°°
Agnes longed to bring her handmaidens, and despite her better judgment, informed them of her plan. To her surprise, they were supportive and did everything they could to help. Anne packed everything useful, including things she figured could fetch a price. Viktoria distracted the guards she would encounter and got a horse for her. Jadwiga, despite the risk, decided to go with her, as she knew Polski was where most people went to leave Swedlandia for one reason or another, and would know the language.
She hugged them all. “I will miss you, but I can't live this life anymore!”
“We can help you leave tonight, but otherwise you'll be on your own. The second he learns you're gone, it'll be a manhunt,” Viktoria warned. “He's a man who won't stop until he gets what he wants,”
“I know.”
Agnes disguised herself, wearing a dress similar to her old servant gown, stitched together from various cheap scraps of cloth, men's working boots, a long warm coat, and her hair contained in a loose bonnet. Jadwiga had nice clothing due to her position, but packed simple clothing and chose to escape in a riding habit with breeches underneath. They slipped onto horses and rode off into the night, Agnes never looking back once.
°°°
The first few towns they rode through were nondescript. They didn't want to stop unless absolutely necessary, knowing everyone was looking for Agnes. Agnes feared the prince himself was looking for her, so she regularly kept her head down. The only time they felt brave enough to stop and genuinely rest was in a very tiny village near the border, with little there but an inn. Jadwiga took the horses out while Agnes went inside to try to ask for a room, using her charm.
“It'll just be one night, sir, please. We've been traveling all night,” her eyes fluttered.
“Cinderella?”
Agnes whipped her head around at the familiar nickname and saw Alma standing in a doorway, looking different from when they last met. She wore a mix of male and female clothing, a heavy coat, and her hair was either cut short or completely hidden under her hat.
“Where's the prince?”
She tried to shush Alma, the bartender staring at them. She shoved Alma into the nearest room.
“Please, I know you hate me. But don't give me away! I can never return to Prince Julian,” she placed a hand on her stomach.
“I was never the one who disliked you,” Alma motioned to a figure on the bed, and Agnes gasped at the sight.
Elvira had a crooked nose, broken teeth, hair completely untied that draped over her shoulders, and two stubs where her feet used to be. By her side were some silver poles.
“I thought you wanted to marry him, have a fairytale ending,” Elvira accused. “Everything I went through was for that. I loved him. All of this,” she gestured to her body, “was for that. And now you're going to run back into our lives and ask to be friends?”
“I'm not asking for friendship.” Agnes held her head up high. “You have reasons to hate me, envy me, despise me. You are the only people I know in this whole kingdom.”
“Answer me, why are you running?”
“I don't love him. He's a cruel and selfish man. I only loved one, and it was never him,”
“You are shallow and vain, you seem perfect!”
“Elvira!” Alma scolded.
Agnes looked away.
“We don't know where we're going. Just that we need to cross the border,”
“He's looking for you, you know,” Elvira shifted on the bed. “Why should we help you instead of turning you in?”
Any answer Agnes had was forgotten as Jadwiga burst into the room and Agnes vomited on the floor.
°°°
“How do we find a man like that? Our mother chased him away in anger. He could be anywhere.” Alma asked later that night, as Agnes lay in a corner with Jadwiga soothing her. “He's not even literate, so we can't give him any of our whereabouts.”
“I remember the name of his village,” Agnes spoke softly. “He would've returned there. I just don't know how far it is,” Her throat ached and her voice was barely a whisper. She held her stomach.
“We have to travel slowly. Your sister is disabled and you're pregnant-” Jadwiga cut herself off.
“You're pregnant?!” Elvira asked in disbelief. “Is sex with him at least enjoyable?”
Agnes could only shake her head and buried it in Jadwiga’s lap.
°°°
The village was named after their hydropower, using huge wheels to spin water and use it to work farm tools instead of always relying on cattle. Jadwiga was unfamiliar with the place, but remembered another servant mentioning it once, saying it was near the center of the country.
“We'll have to travel very close to the palace though,” she finished.
“We're in disguise. That shouldn't be an issue,” Alma said.
“Are we really doing this? We're completely backtracking.” Elvira asked.
“You don't have to help me, but that's where I'm going,” Agnes said. “Make your choice.”
Elvira looked at her, and the two girls met each other's eyes.
“We're not so different.” Agnes finally said, as Alma helped Elvira onto her horse and Jadwiga and Agnes watched. “Forced into roles we didn't want and lost the men we truly loved,”
“I'm nothing like you,” Elvira snapped as they rode off. “If I were beautiful like you, I wouldn't be grotesque now,”
“You were never ugly.” Agnes said honestly. “I always found you rather charming and cute.”
“That means nothing coming from a beautiful girl like you. You could've had literally anything.”
“You're right,” Agnes slowed her horse slightly to ride beside her.
“Hearing you're beautiful from an actual beauty is worthless. Anyone can say that about anyone. Being ugly is hard, being beautiful is easy.”
“Do you think I'm happy?”
Elvira didn't say anything for the rest of the ride, and Agnes partook in the silence. Alma and Jadwiga were the ones who filled it, riding next to each other at a faster pace and laughing with each other, enjoying the other's company.
Agnes assumed traveling would be difficult, but found it was more tedious. Elvira and Alma proved to be resourceful, getting supplies when they ran low and knowing good inns to hide in. She supposed it was because they had come that way before and knew everything. The hardest was her. She still vomited when the sun touched her, which slowed them down. She was itchy and hot to the touch a lot, and was starting to grow sore.
The biggest challenge came when they had to cross the lands of the palace. Agnes knew the prince was searching for her and feared her luck would run out soon. He wouldn't let his prize get away so easily, and bit her lip as they tried to quietly ride through the forest.
“Julian, you've already patrolled this area. If she's truly gone, you need to search farther,”
Her heart stopped at the voice.
Alma and Jadwiga looked at each other in alarm and hurriedly tried to hide the two girls with their bodies and horses the best they could. Agnes kept her head down as they walked, and Alma laughed in a deep voice.
“Sir!” One of Julian's friends spotted her and stopped her. “I'm so sorry to intrude on your party.”
“I'm not, look at these nice peasant women! He gets them all to himself, eh?” The other friend laughed as he walked over. Agnes subtly stared and saw them in full military dress, guns and knives at their sides. Her stomach turned over and she swallowed.
“They're family. We want no trouble. Just a way to pass through this forest.” Alma continued.
“Well, we have to inspect anyone who comes this way. Didn't you hear? Princess Agnes is missing!” The one with straight hair said.
Alma gasped.
“So I hope you understand me, we just need to check your women. If they're good, we'll let you leave,” The one with curly hair was already eyeing Agnes, and she swallowed again. Alma looked at them helplessly.
“Check her.” Elvira said quietly, pointing to Agnes. “She's the best-looking. If she meets your standards, you'll let the rest of us go,” She said nothing else, and wasn't even looking at them.
Agnes tightly gripped the reins of her horse. Julian's friends nodded without a word and helped her down, instantly taking her to some side bushes in the garden. The curly-haired one looked at her face for a maddeningly long time, and she stared back, tensing her body.
“Should we fuck her?” The straight-haired one asked. “She's just someone's servant, she's just property,”
“I'm his wife,” Agnes said. “You'd sleep with another man's wife?”
“Julian shares his women with us, and we never feel guilty over it!”
“Yeah, his wedding night, we shared Agnes. That was fun,”’
The two continued to talk, but were undressing. Agnes watched, unsure of what they even planned to do. Surely if they wanted to rape her, they would've done so already.
“But I have to admit, I am unfortunately not feeling up to a round,”
“Me neither.”
“So you'll let me go,” Agnes said.
“Well, you're definitely not the princess.”
“Yeah, the princess is way hotter than you,”
The two were completely naked and their cocks were out, average things lying soft between their legs. Agnes stared beside herself. Even in that area, they couldn't compare to Isak. Small, yet he made the absolute most of it. Julian was also average, but couldn't use it for a man who was proud of his status and sexual organ.
“Show us the goods,” The one with curly hair commented. “Get naked. No sex, just casual nudity.”
That, Agnes could do. She recalled Jadwiga's story, and so she pulled up her dress with little thought, also pulling up her shift. She wore no drawers or similar undergarments in her disguise, so everything was on full display. The men laughed and cheered.
“Servant cunt is the best, don't you think?”
“Servants in general are the best! You can make them do anything,”
Agnes' view was obscured, but she heard familiar slaps and claps for the next minute, only stopping when they both groaned and she threw her skirt back down.
“I hate you both,” she spat as she got back on her horse. “You are a disease worse than what the prince has,”
The four rode off and took no breaks until they were very far away from the castle, mulling over what just happened.
°°°
After ages of travel, they finally reached the village. Agnes jumped off her horse and started asking around, desperate to know if anyone had any knowledge of Isak. Most ignored her or stared at her appearance, but finally, finally, she received an answer. He was living in the main stable in town, a place he also worked.
“Isak!” She ran into his arms in the stable and completely collapsed. “My one true love!”
“Agnes!” He pulled her close, hugging her and rubbing her back. “I thought you forgot me!”
“Never, I could never forget you!” Against her better judgment, she burst into tears, loud, hard sobs that shook her body and forced her to bury her face in his chest. He helped her up the ladder into his small room, which was just a cot and a lantern, but it felt like home to her. “The whole time, I dreamed of you. I could never….” She cried more.
“But Prince Julian, is he after you?”
Agnes took a deep breath and pulled away slightly. “I don't know. His friends don't seem interested in finding me. Honestly, I feel he might give up after a while too. I was just a pretty face.”
Isak cupped her cheeks in his hands. “No, you're so much more than that. You are an amazing woman.”
She smiled and leaned into his touch. “But I'm…I'm…”
“Sssh. Let's talk more tomorrow.”
She lay next to him in his cot, falling asleep easily, smiling in his arms.
°°°
When she checked on her family in the inn, Elvira and Alma were gone, while Jadwiga remained. Agnes wanted to ask, to figure out if she had some kind of letter or anything, but she never found the strength. She knew why they left and felt she shouldn't pry anymore into their lives.
Elvira had made her choice, and so did Agnes.
There were still a few things left to sell, and she wanted to look her best, so she used that small amount of money to buy a nice seafoam dress with silver buttons. She braided her hair and placed the dress on, wiping the mud and sweat from her face using the old scrapped gown. Then, she went to see Isak, who lived by himself in the stable as he studied his chosen trade of blacksmithing. She smiled at him and waved as he was coming down the ladder, a hand on her stomach.
“Agnes!”
“Isak!”
They hugged.
“Do you still have work?”
“No, I just finished. Want to walk in the park with me?”
She nodded. She could think of nothing better.
The park in this village turned out to be a dirt trail next to the river and shaded by a few trees, with large rocks scattered around. No benches or lampposts or anything even remotely worth looking at. Yet Agnes was entertained anyway as she watched Isak. “I love you, but you must know.” They walked through the park together. “As Julian's wife, I had to perform his expected duties. I am…not clean. And…I carry his child.”
Isak hummed and stopped beside the river. She let go of his hand.
“You gave your virginity to me.”
“And I don't regret that. But he had a disease and I carry it now too. I'm itchy down there and am feverish sometimes.”
“Then you need a tonic.”
Was it really that simple? Isak didn't say anything else, just wandered along the length of the river.
“And my child? Do you want it gone?”
“That's not for me to decide.” He bent over and threw a rock into the river, making a huge splash. “Do you want it?”
She shrugged. “I don't know. I fear his child will be cruel like him. And I am not motherly material.”
Isak threw another stone.
“But because he made me sick, we might struggle with kids. So….if you need an heir…”
“Then keep it. That was easy.” He kissed her and she kissed him back. A quickening formed in her stomach and she gasped at the movement.
“Oh, I need to make water.” Agnes said as they held hands and continued walking. The baby wasn't very big yet, but it weighed like a stone down there.
“Keep talking, I'll look out for you.” Isak squeezed her hand and they crossed a simple wooden bridge.
“I made amends with my stepsisters. They left after they brought me here though.”
“Does that make you sad?”
Agnes pondered that question. She wasn't sure. While she was happy they weren't leaving in hatred, she wished they could have come to a much better understanding. She had good memories of bonding with Elvira, caring for her even as she sickened. She never hated her, no matter what outward appearances made it seem like. She eventually just shook her head in an unsure way.
“I should look to the future.”
“You have a good one.” Isak reminded her with a kiss. They headed deep into the forest and without a word, Agnes lifted her dress up and squatted, her back to a tree. She peed a thick and heavy stream for a while, wetting the dirt with a bubbly puddle. She bit her lip. Isak was keeping watch for her, though eventually had to quip: “It's loud. You drank that much?!”
And despite her better judgment, Agnes burst into laughter.
°°°
Prince Julian apparently was still looking for her, though he refused to get off his ass about it and instead set up posters all over the kingdom with a large reward and drawing of her. The drawing was quite detailed, showing a dreamy girl with blonde hair and a blue dress staring off into the distance. Agnes assumed perhaps she looked like that at one point, but the pregnancy and the hard trip changed her. She always wore her hair braided, and sewed and mended a striped green and cream dress with old lace on the sleeves and a thick apron that was her main dress in town. Her face was steady, her eyes hard. Every so often, someone would look at the picture, look at her, then walk away, as if the coincidence was too unlikely.
She got a job at the local village school and immediately fell in love with it. The children would bounce happily in their seats and all rush to hug her big skirt, and they called her Madame Forloraddotter. With her meager salary and the money Isak got from stable and blacksmithing jobs, they moved to a shabby part of town, but they loved it nonetheless because they were together.
Jadwiga stayed behind too, working in a tea shop for immigrants from nearby Polski, her language helping her instead of being a fancy thing she knew how to do.
Agnes lay with Isak every night, a tender and soft romance continuing between the two of them. He wasn't afraid of her sickness, and she did drink a tonic and stopped itching, so perhaps it was alright, but she was still unsure. Every night when they made love, Agnes would sigh from joy and lie still, holding him close.
Sex with him was a drink of water after wandering a hot desert all her life. His semen was a jewel she eagerly collected.
One day, he asked to be taught to read, knowing she was capable of it because she taught the children. She smiled and instantly started helping him to read and write. After their lessons, she took the risk and wrote to Anne and Viktoria, and was delighted to receive letters back from them.
“But what about Julian?” Jadwiga asked when she heard the news.
“They say he puts on the mourning widower in public, convinced I went mad and drowned, but in private, he's started a relationship with a princess from Aragon.” Agnes stated. “He doesn't even screw them. Anne is thinking of marrying her coachman, and Viktoria is content with dating all the other servant girls,”
“Aren't you afraid he'll find you?” Isak asked later, playing with her hair.
“I told you, he doesn't care about me. Especially if he has a new girl,”
“But men like that will never be satisfied.”
Agnes rolled over to face him, her nudity in all its glory. “He was convinced I was the prettiest girl in the whole kingdom. Yet he barely remembers my name. Men like that think they'll never be satisfied. Until they are.”
“I'm just worried about you.”
“Don't be.” Julian never occupied her thoughts anymore. She got what she needed and that was the end of it. Let him get what was coming to him.
°°°
Childbirth was a pain Agnes never wanted to experience, even though Isak and Jadwiga were there to help her through. She squeezed Isak’s hands so hard she thought he would pop, and then fainted once the ordeal was done, not getting to hold her baby until later. When she did, she saw a blonde darling with Julian's face but her own father's eyes, and cried.
°°°
“Elvira!” Agnes scolded her daughter as they wandered through the park by the river. Isak was busy at work as usual; the blacksmith always kept her dear husband away from her most nights. Jadwiga wasn't maternal the way Agnes was, so it always fell on her to make sure her daughter, now nearing five, was staying safe. She wore a burgundy short dress and a lacy shirt, bows up in her curly pigtails. “Elvira!” Agnes scolded again as Elvira wanted to jump on the rocks.
“But Mama!” Elvira cried. “What's wrong with wading? You always let me walk in the water!”
“Well, today you have your new shoes on. I don't want them to get ruined!” Agnes held out her hand. “Walk with me,”
Elvira pouted but obeyed, holding her mother's hand tightly. They found a shaded tree to sit under with large rocks around the base, and she instantly started climbing on one while Agnes sat on the ground and watched. “Look Mama! I'm a fairy!” She stood on the rock and held her arms out.
“You are!” Agnes smiled.
“I wish I could be a fairy,” Elvira sat down and swung her legs around. “But I don't have wings. And I'm not pretty.”
Agnes paused at that, wrinkling her brow.
“Fairies are beautiful, aren't they?”
“Yes, but you're also pretty! Who told you that you aren't?” she demanded, looking her daughter in the eye.
“You're beautiful, Mama! But kids in town say I'm not as pretty as you,”
“You stop that right now!” Agnes scolded and helped her daughter off the rock. “Every girl is beautiful.”
Elvira stared at her, unconvinced.
“You can be a fairy because every girl is her own kind of fairy. It's hurtful to be told you're not beautiful, but never let that hurt win. You are beautiful.”
She huffed and ran ahead.
“I'm serious! I named you after someone pretty I knew! She was strong,”
Still, Elvira didn't listen, and Agnes sighed after she went to bed after dinner. “Maybe you should've named her.”
“Nonsense.” Isak held her close. “She's still very young. She'll understand it when the time is right.”
°°°
Years later, Elvira asked the question once again, when she was dressing for her wedding.
“Am I truly beautiful, Mama?” she asked as her bridesmaids draped the veil around her and topped her head with flowers.
“The most beautiful girl I know,” Agnes held her daughter tightly.