Fifty Shades of Sleeping Beauty (5 page)

"Oh,
your Highness, why did you have to go and do that?" Her head sank into her hands.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"If our sister had remained," Serena said through gritted teeth, "we could perhaps have made her lift this curse she's placed on your granddaughter."

"Then we'll hunt throughout the land," said Magnus, his face pale with fury. "We'll leave no stone unturned till we find her."

Isis sighed. "It's no good," she said quietly. "Bellatrix was always the best at magic among us." (Serena bridled slightly at this, but did not wish to argue with her sister.) "Nonetheless, there are three witches, and I have yet to give my daughter a gift."

She held up Talia and gazed into the young child's face, which in turn regarded her with undiluted happiness.

"When first you experience that joy which I have felt so many times, and all the people of Nysa, you will not die - not in the way that my sister meant. It will be what the poet's call
la petite mort
, a little death of such pleasure that indeed you will barely be able to sustain it. I cannot revoke my sister's curse completely, but it will not be your death, complete and final. Rather you'll fall into a deep slumber, from which you'll only wake when a prince with a love for you as great as that as Magnus for me comes to find you."

After that, few of the guests had the stomach to continue the feat, and so ended the strangest naming ceremony that Nysa had ever witnessed.

For the next few weeks, there were hushed whispers around the court concerning the odd events of that day, although whenever any member of the royal family was seen all such gossip was quickly hushed up. Magnus, after an initial period of anger, recovered quickly from the insult that had been directed at his family, while the King and Queen dismissed it as little more than a breach of etiquette. Only Isis and Serena were troubled by the possible consequences of their sister’s words. As for Bellatrix, she was never seen again in the kingdom of Nysa from that day forth.

Without her presence, so also the curse she’d
lain on Talia was forgotten by most people over the next few years. As the young girl began to grow, however, it quickly became clear that Serena’s kinder blessing was coming true, although most people who were sceptical about magic put that down to common courtesy on the witch’s part which, serendipitously, had come to pass.

As a toddler, the princess was a bonny child with strong, healthy limbs and a pleasant, cheerful disposition that made everyone who saw her smile. Even at that early age she was inquisitive, climbing and exploring wherever her small legs and hands would take her, but as she grew older so her auburn hair, even more lustrous than that of her mother’s, began to shine and her piercing green eyes would hold everyone’s attention. She was constantly laughing and always playing, never disobedient to her mother but not the kind of timid creature who was scared to say boo to a goose. As she watched her daughter grow, Isis seemed to forget the doom that lay on her daughter and enjoyed her company every day.

Yet something in Nysa had changed. The land was nearly as fertile as it had once been and crops never failed, but they were not quite as abundant as they were before, a fact which the farmers blamed on the changing climate. The air was still balmy, and the country was a pleasant place to live, yet the rain fell more frequently and whereas there had never been anything other than the most pleasant fluffy white clouds in the sky before, sometimes the entire sky was overcast and dull. While Isis and Serena did their best to keep Nysa the same blessed kingdom it had always been, without their sister’s powerful magic the task was so much greater.

There was also another shadow that fell across the land. One day, tired with a life of inactivity, King Roland decided to try his hand at the hunt one last time. Unfortunately for him, he had become rather stout in the intervening years and after mounting his horse with great difficulty it protested at the weight and bolted, throwing him into a trough. Although he treated the incident with great
humour, he contracted a terrible chill which he couldn’t shake and the fall seemed to affect him more than it should have. Within a few days he was confined to his bed and, before the month was out, had passed away. Magnus and his mother were gravely saddened by the tragedy, but the person most upset was Talia, who had enjoyed to sit upon her grandfather’s knee and listen to his ribald jokes.

Despite this tragedy, the people of Nysa remained an easygoing sort, and even the weather became a source of
humour for them. Magnus became king and Isis his queen, and the kingdom continued on its own merry way.

It was only one day while watching her daughter play with a stable hand that Isis began to consider whether the kingdom was too merry, its subjects too easygoing. The stable lad, a boy of some fourteen years, was fooling around in the courtyard with Princess Talia who had just entered her twelfth year. The lad was tall and strong for his age, the kind of strapping fellow that, with a few more summers, would have very much appealed to Isis before her marriage. Talia herself was tall and willowy like her
mother, and the natural colour of her cheeks and her slender, lithe limbs were making her a great beauty at court. Isis, like most Nysans, had not been one to stand on ceremony, but when she saw the looks that were being exchanged between the two youths, and the laughter that each echoed from the other, she suddenly turned pale.

Later that evening, she told what she had seen to Magnus.

“It’s nothing,” the king mumbled, wondering why his wife of all women should be concerned by a little tomfoolery.

“It may be nothing now, but it will be something soon. I saw the way that young lad looked at her. Our daughter will be the most beautiful young woman in all Nysa – and she’s turning more and more into a woman every day.”

“So? We should be glad of her blessings!”

“Yes, a blessing from Serena, which despite her best intentions will one day become a curse.”

“A curse? How on earth do you come to that conclusion?”

“By the gods, Magnus!
It’s clear I didn’t marry you for your brains. Think, man! How long is it before some young lad, even more handsome and strapping than the one I saw playing with Talia today, decides to try some other game? Her beauty will attract them like flies, and it won’t be long before my other sister’s curse becomes as true as Serena’s.”

A few days later, messengers travelled the length and breadth of Nysa, issuing proclamations and posting bills in every town and village. It was decreed by the order of King Magnus and Queen Isis that the long and (not especially venerable) traditions of the country were to change. Henceforth, the custom of wearing immodest garments and engaging in ribald talk would be punishable by imprisonment, and from that day on every subject was to live a life of sobriety.

As you can imagine, this new decree caused a great deal of grumbling, and yet by and large the people of Nysa did as they were ordered. The reason for simple: while no-one had named the witch Bellatrix for many years, the curse she had laid on Talia had become the stuff of legend. At the same time, Talia had indeed become the fairest woman in the entire kingdom, and there were plenty who reckoned that she would be the most beautiful that Nysa had ever known.

And so, over the next half decade Nysa changed even more.
It’s people who had been lively, loveable and given to laughter, transformed themselves into a sober and puritanical people. All mention of pleasures was forbidden, and though Magnus did not particularly pursue offenders very often the most heinous offences were indeed punished with imprisonment or exile. To protect the princess, every innuendo and smutty display was tracked down and stopped.

This caused a great deal of work, and not a little heartache for the King. The fertile produce of Nysa had become synonymous with their love of pleasure, and much of its famous produce was henceforth banned because it infected daily speech with puns that, once a source of innocent delight, could now prove fatal in their consequences. It was forbidden to grow bananas or cucumbers, melons, cherries or peaches, and even plums – one of the queen’s
favourite fruits which she would often wrap her lips around – were also dismissed, every plum tree in the country being ripped up and burnt. There was a whole conference among learned academics devoted to the subject of apples, which were considered risky by some: in the end the fruit was allowed to remain, but anyone caught referring to a bite of the apple was in danger of finding themselves locked up for the night.

A vast quantity of great artworks and literary books were sealed away in the vaults of the court (for Magnus could not bring himself to burn them). The ancient artists and authors of Nysa had been a naughty lot, but there grew up a generation of writers and painters who devoted themselves to extolling the virtues of algebra and painting geometric shapes that would test the most licentious-minded to discover anything inappropriate in them.

Within homes, kitchens adopted new practices so that chickens would be plucked under a cloth lest the women of the house be tempted by the sight of bare flesh, and the legs of chairs and tables were covered lest they remind viewers of a more human anatomy. The men and women of Nysa wore plain, dark clothes made of wool that covered every inch of their skin other than their hands and faces, despite the still warm weather, with hats or shawls to hide away the shimmering temptation that was hair.

None were sadder about these changes than King Magnus and Queen Isis, but they were glad that the people endured them with so little
complaint, such was the love that everyone bore their daughter. And yet the demands to lead by example placed a great strain on the marriage of this handsome man and his wife who, in the first years of their love had not been able to keep their hands off each other.

“Talia’s been asking me about where she came from again,” said Isis to her husband with a sigh.

“Why’s that a problem? I would have thought the answer was obvious: Nysa.”

“No! Not the
geographical
location. I think we might have to dismiss that new governess – she has far too much interest in the subject of biology.”

“Ah,” said Magnus, finally understanding.
“That kind of question.”

“Yes, that kind.” Isis began to wring her hands. Since she and Magnus had engaged in a life of abstinence, she was becoming increasingly irritable. “Do you know what I told her?
That a stork brought her to the palace. A
stork
! She was eighteen years old last month, and it shames me that a daughter of mine should be so... ignorant.”

At this she began to cry and Magnus came over to console her, placing a hand on her shoulder but she flinched away from him. “Please, don’t,” she said, although something about her pleading suggested that her desires were otherwise.

“Isis, Isis,” said the king. “My dear and beautiful wife. I hate to see you this way and... and, gods damn it! I hate it that I can’t touch you anymore.”

Isis took a step away from him, but the look of longing in her eyes was such that he followed
her a pace or two, becoming bolder with each step. Though she was dressed in a long gown that swept the floor when she walked, with the bodice laced tightly up to her neck and her arms covered in dark sleeves, her hair hidden beneath a black bonnet, her green eyes and pale lips were the most beautiful things he had ever seen and he wished to kiss her more than anything.

Now he was a few
inches  away from her, and he could see that she was trembling in his presence.

“We have a lovely daughter, who would be the pride and joy of any parents if only we could appreciate that joy.”

The queen nodded at this. “I know, I know,” she said weakly. Tentatively, Magnus placed a hand on her arm and this time she didn’t flinch.

“If only we could appreciate what we have, and share our love for each other like we once did. I don’t need to see you. We can have the windows darkened and I promise I won’t look but... I miss you! I need you! I want you!”

“I miss you,” Isis whispered, and her lips parted slightly.

“If only we could be as we once were,” he continued softly, drawing her close to him. “Everything would be alright. We would be happy and our daughter would live a long and happy life.”

It was the wrong thing to say and he cursed as he saw his wife’s expression, as cold as stone. Now she pulled away from him.

“But if we don’t lead by example,” she said stiffly, “our daughter won’t have a long life. If we succumb to temptation, how can we expect her to resist it? And I tell you, Magnus, I’m determined more than anything that our daughter will have a
very
long life.” With this, she drew up the train of her dress and left the room.

Magnus sighed. “Yes, she’ll probably have a long life, but I can’t see how it will be a happy one.”

The king needn’t have worried about the happiness of his daughter. Although Talia may have been missing out on what he (and his wife) would have once considered a fundamental pleasure of life, her lot was indeed a very pleasant one. After all, if you have never tasted the sweetest fruit, you won’t punish yourself with the memory of its flavour.

In any case, Talia led a charmed life. Not simply the considerable graces that were attendant upon being a princess, with no cares of the sort that affected normal mortals, but because she herself was so gay that she spread good cheer wherever she went. While Nysa had become in many ways a very dour place, the princess saw very little of this. Her presence in a room would turn everyone’s frowns to smiles and wherever she went laughter was sure to follow. For the sake of anyone else, the impositions placed upon the subjects of the kingdom would have been intolerable – but everyone tolerated them because they were for the sake of Talia.

Part of her charm lay in the fact that, as she transformed from a girl to a woman, she became even more beautiful if such a thing were possible. The blessings bestowed by Serena, which Isis had considered as much a curse, were not experienced as such by the young princess. Her hair was even redder than her mother’s, her eyes greener, and she lacked the careworn expression that often haunted Isis’s face. Her body was as slender as a sapling, filling out in ways that would have attracted the attentions of many a young (or not so young) man even more had she been allowed to dress in attire other than the stern, woollen garb her mother insisted upon.

Because none dared draw attention to her beauty, the princess was also utterly unconscious of it – which in turn added to her inner grace. Although she had been offered everything that a young woman could want in terms of material needs, she was
unspoilt, kind to everyone and loving in her own, innocent way.

And that innocence was great indeed. Talia lived in a world where newborn babies were delivered by storks, where a kiss was nothing more than a peck on a parent’s cheek upon going to bed, and breasts were soft pillows where a bird could nestle down. Many a man in Nysa would groan and curse at the thought that the fauna of the kingdom had more intimacy with the young princess than they would ever know, but none of them dared nor wished to break the king’s law. What’s more, Talia never had to deal with the burden that affected many young royals of a marriageable age, in that any potential suitor – most of whom would have been very unsuitable to a young, beautiful woman – were fended off by her mother and father.

During her teenage years, Queen Isis had insisted on what she considered a suitable governess to watch over her potentially wayward child. This governess, a woman probably younger than the queen herself though she looked and behaved as though she were her grandmother, had a prudish and pricklish aspect. A large, frumpy beldam, the sight of her alone was enough to drive away anyone who would have been tempted to try they luck with the princess, and if her looks were not repulsive enough her nagging tongue and unpleasant personality were sufficient to complete the task.

Talia loved Griselda, for that was the governess’s name – but then the princess loved everyone without distinction as to age, status or beauty. Nonetheless, the endless hours of grammar, music and sewing to which she was subjected to by Griselda frequently proved too much for the young woman and she took plenty of opportunities to escape the watchful eye of her chaperon.

So it was that Talia found herself one day in a quiet corner of the palace gardens. She was meant to be learning about the ancient kings and queens of Nysa from carefully prepared text books which had been censored by the king himself to remove all reference to the frequent amorous liaisons conducted by those merry monarchs. The result was that Talia’s history books were a great deal shorter than would be found in any library in Nysa, and she had formed an impression that for most past rulers their reign was summarised as being without incident for a generation or two – with much more information provided on those very few monarchs who had been forced by whatever circumstance to go to war. As such, her ideals of Nysan diplomacy were very much at odds with reality: in practice, those kings and queens had much preferred a marriage (or less legitimate union) to solve quarrels with their neighbours.

She had been left in her study by Griselda who had fallen asleep by the door, but the day was so beautiful – with a bright, clear sky and magnificent sun that was more like the Nysa of olden times – that she could not bear to be with her books any more. Climbing out of the window, she had slipped past the guards and found herself alone in a part of the gardens that were not visited much. Aside from a gardener, a young, stoutly built peasant who doffed his invisible cap to the princess and blushed as she went by, she was alone.

The garden itself was an exquisite testimony to the craft of the Nysans, who enjoyed gardening almost as much as they had previously enjoyed all sensuous pleasures. If anything, the reign of King Magnus and Queen Isis had seen a renaissance of the art as frustrated subjects turned their hands to pruning, weeding and cultivation with a zeal that demonstrated what one wise old scholar had once dubbed “ye return of ye repressed”.

The shrubs and hedges were masterpieces of topiary, their living forms carved into birds and castles and geometric shapes (the previous predilection for busty and well-hung forms having been forbidden), and the beds of the garden were laid out with the most delicious flowers – whose form would have been considered lascivious had the
Nysans applied their newfound Puritanism to horticulture as well. In the centre of the garden was a wide pool, not especially deep but brimming with crystal clear water, on top of which floated an array of lilies.

Sitting down by the pool, Talia dipped her fingers into the water, enjoying the way it felt on her hand. Looking up at the sun, she was acutely aware of the heat blazing out onto her head and body, which was causing her neck to itch irritably. It was simply far too hot for all these
clothes! she told herself and, after a few moments considering her situation decided that a dip in the pool was exactly what she needed to cool down.

She could hear the gardener behind her, clipping away at one of the shrubs which
was in the shape of a tall tower rising up from the green, luscious grass. Turning to smile at him, she acknowledged his awkward nod and then returned her attention to the water which was far too tempting.

So intent was she on the water’s allure that she did not even hear the sound of the gardener’s shears cease as she unbuttoned her bodice, opening the front of her dark grey dress to reveal the swelling orbs of her breasts, her nipples pink and her skin as white as milk because it was never caressed by the sun’s rays. Instead, her ears were filled with birdsong as she peeled the thick fabric from her slender limbs and, bending over, slipped her skirts from her delightful rump and long, slender thighs.

Naked at last, she stood in silence for a moment, regarding the silver mirror of the pool. In that reflection she could see her long, auburn hair and her slight arms lifted up above her head, her breasts bouncing slightly as she moved. Her torso narrowed to a pretty little waist before widening to girlish hips, her pudenda crowned with a lovely tuft of red hair, trim and sweet.

She thought she heard a grown behind her but,
turning, could no longer see the gardener. With a shrug, she stepped towards the pool, following the shallow steps into the water. It was cool, much cooler than she had expected and, as she descended even further first her calves and then her thighs began to prickle. When the water reached between her legs, it made her gasp in a very pleasurable way. She had often wondered why nature’s answer to expelling her own water often made her feel this way when something touched it, but the one time she had tried to play with herself to see whether she could stimulate such feelings more vigorously she had been caught by Griselda. The chastisement she had received, as well as the weeping reprimand from her mother who had been informed instantly, made Talia resolve never to try it again. If a simple pleasure could bring so much pain to others, she decided that it was not worth the woe.

As she pushed deeper into the water, its embrace made her nipples become hard and stiff, beads of water dripping from her shoulders as she pushed herself down and then rose up again. This was the life!
she told herself. No longer restricted by her stupid clothes, she could enjoy the innocent pleasures of a swim undisturbed.

Her pleasure was not to last, however. A few moments later she heard a terrible cry from the far end of the garden which was followed almost instantly by the sight of her governess striding across the grass, dragging the gardener by his ear. The young man’s face was bright red and he seemed to be struggling to do up his trousers, which made Talia frown: there were plenty of latrines in the castle and she had never heard of anyone relieving themselves in public. That thought, however, did rouse her curiosity as to what lay in those trousers: she wondered whether he was smooth as she, with a pair of lips beneath a tuft of hair that sometimes seemed to open of their own accord.

“Princess Talia!” Griselda bellowed. “What, by the gods, are you doing?”

For one of the only times in her life, Talia felt annoyed by her mistress.
Standing up so that the water streamed from her pert breasts and her narrow shoulders, she replied tartly: “Isn’t it obvious? I’m swimming?”

“What?
Naked? In public?” The governess’s voice was thick with outrage.

“Of course,” Talia said. “You could hardly expect me to swim with my clothes on, could you? I’d surely drown beneath the weight, unless that was your intention.”

“Princess Talia!” Griselda’s face was so hurt that Talia immediately regretted her choice of words. “I would never desire such a thing, and well you know it – but please, cover yourself!”

With a sigh, Talia reached out with one delicate hand and lifted up a large lily pad which she placed before herself. While the leaf was sizable, it was nowhere near enough to cover her nudity and in fact the effect was to make her appear even more desirable, drawing attention to those parts that it barely concealed. Though she was not to know it, the pose she held had been a
favourite of Nysan artists in reference to a local deity who was somewhat naughtier than most of the gods – which was no mean feat in itself.

Unable to look at her ward any more, Griselda turned her attention to the young gardener who was whimpering due to the pressure on his ear. “And you, young man! I’ll see that you’re thoroughly whipped for this! How dare you pollute yourself in such a filthy, disgusting
manner!”

“Oh!” Talia cried. “Don’t hurt him. He wasn’t doing anything wrong!” Then she frowned. “How was he polluting himself?” She grimaced slightly at the thought. There really were private latrines if he found himself short, but perhaps he was one of those unfortunate individuals who
was incontinent. Feeling pity for him, she moved to the edge of the water, forgetting her lily pad so that her entire torso was displayed once more.

Griselda looked as though she was turning purple. “Please! Princess!” she hissed through gritted teeth. Talia was so confused that she looked away, yanking the young man around and pushing him away from the pair of them.
“You! Get out of here, now! And send the head gardener. I can see what a mess you were making of that topiary!”

As the young man stumbled away, sneakily looking over his shoulder as he did so, Griselda fussed and bustled around Talia’s clothes, picking them up. “You must get dressed, princess!” she muttered. “Come back in now to your studies.”

Talia began to pout at this, looking down at her breasts. A dragonfly had settled above one of her nipples, lying for a moment among the droplets that trickled down the smooth, soft flesh. For a moment she forgot her ire but then recalled what she was being ordered – she! A princess! – to do.

“Shan’t!” she said sulkily.

At this, the governess’s willpower seemed to crumble and she half sank, half sat on the paving stones next to the pool. Her lip trembled as she struggled with herself not to cry.

“It’s no use, no use,” Talia heard her whimper. “What’s bred in the blood comes out in the bone. She doesn’t even
realise what she’s doing, and how can I stop her?”

All thoughts of petulance were now dismissed and Talia rushed from the pool, throwing her wet arms around the ugly old woman’s shoulders and kissing her sweetly on the hair. “What’s wrong, dearest Griselda? What have I done wrong?”

The look of pity and sadness on her governess’s face almost broke Talia’s heart. “You... why my dear, you’ve done nothing wrong. I don’t think I’ve ever heard an unkind word from those lips of yours, but...” At this, Griselda finally began to cry, shielding her face from the concerned princess’s gaze.

Eventually, with consolation from Talia, the governess ceased to weep. She attempted to make her face stern once more, but Talia could see that it was an act. However, to keep the peace and not hurt Griselda again she somewhat reluctantly agreed to wear her clothes once more.

“Yes, let’s just sit out here for a while,” Griselda said more calmly now. She looked up at the sun which shone down on her creased face. “Why, I can’t remember the last time I sat like this. It’s because of these clothes we have to wear all the time.” Talia heard the head gardener, a spindly man in his seventies with wiry limbs and white, grizzled hair, taking up the spot where she had last seen the young man tending the shrubbery. Griselda, however, appeared not to notice, lost in her own recollections. In the silence, Talia could hear the clatter of shears as the old man went about his business.