A/N: Hello all! Thank you for opening this story! I know I'm working on another right now at the same time, but this one holds a very special part in my life right now. I am dedicating it to my grandmother, who used to tell me bedtime fairy tales and is the reason that I love them so much today. She is in the hospital right now and so I wanted to start a retelling of one of my favorite stories in her honour. As always I really really appreciate anyone taking the time to review! Thank you and I hope you enjoy the first chapter of King Thrushbeard!

C.V

Chapter One- King Thrushbeard

The throne room in my father's palace was dark and cold. It was built of a dark, grey stone many generations ago- without windows or any natural light. Even when the sun was at its highest point in the sky, the only light that breeched the thick walls was from the trail of torches that lined the room. A thin, red carpet stretched from the wide, intricately carved archway to the raised platform, whereupon sat a cushioned throne and a number of smaller chairs that were all made of the same, mahogany wood.

But perhaps the darkest part of the room was the man who sat in the throne himself. My father wasn't the large or domineering looking sort. He was only slightly taller than myself, and while his girth was impressive, on first glance he didn't seem to be as frightening and manipulative as I knew him to be. When I was growing up in the palace, my father's attitude towards my mother was a constant source of fear. While he never hurt her, he also never loved her- and the whole kingdom of Lustre, myself included, knew it. Their union had been arranged, a common enough occurrence for royalty of the day, but unlike most I'd seen or heard of, no admiration or even respect ever grew between them.

I spent most of my time with my mother growing up, and since I was their only child I was raised to be the future Queen of Lustre. I learned how to read and write, and became well versed in the history of Lustre and all the surrounding kingdoms. Although my father never permitted me to attend any politically driven meetings amongst the nearby kings and princes and land-barons, I learned about statecraft, budgets and how to be a fair and just ruler. My mother also began to teach me some of the more delicate tasks required of a woman and a wife- embroidery, sewing, leading a household. But that training was cut short when I was 9 and my mother grew ill.

The court of Lustre speculated at the cause of her illness. I would hear the nursemaids as they replaced cold compresses on her head, or applied fat, juicy leeches to her temples while I pretended to sleep by her side. She was heart-sore, they'd gossip. She was sad and lonely from being unloved by her husband and left alone to care for her child. Sometimes they would say worse- about how my father didn't go to her at night anymore and instead preferred the company of one lady or another. None of whom I knew of course- though at the time my child's mind dismissed the idea as being ridiculous, because I didn't yet understand that being a wife meant being more than being a mere decoration. Since in reality, that was what my mother was. She was a beautiful woman, with long, lustrous brown hair and the same iridescent blue eyes that I'd inherited, and was a perfect companion to a king, but no more important to him than his crown or a favourite horse.

When my mother died shortly after she became sick, my father remarried another lady of the court. Lady Donia was yet another decoration to adorn my father's crown, but there was one fundamental difference between Donia and my mother. She bore my father a son. Sawyer was born on a rainy day in the Bright-Month when I had seen 13 summers, and the king was overjoyed. I knew then that being my father's heir was virtually out of the question, although he couldn't simply change the rule of succession as he probably wished. Instead he spent much time thinking of the best way to get rid of me- short of assassination. My father was not the kindest man, but he wasn't the type to murder his own child, regardless of how much he may have wished to be rid of me.

And that was why, on the eve of my 21st birthday, my father sought me out in my rose garden. Normally I retreated there during particularly tedious state dinners that were full of long-winded speeches in ode to my father's magnanimity, and that night was one such a dinner. Compared to the castle it was like a haven. Even in the darkness, the roses shone in the moonlight, and their fragrance surrounded me like a pleasant cloud that reminded me of how my mother smelled. It was comforting and peaceful, at least until I heard my father clearing his throat beside me, his deep voice guttural and unmoving.

"I have arranged a feast to celebrate your birthday Alys," he said confidently. I wasn't surprised, since he and my step-mother would use any excuse to feast, as was evident from the growing size of their bellies.

"I thank you father, though I must admit it comes as no surprise," I replied, sarcasm dripping from my tone like wax from a candle.

"I would appreciate it if you would be a little more grateful child, after all, tomorrow will be a very special day for you," he continued while conveniently ignoring the tone of my response.

"Living with you and your wife makes every day special my royal father."

"I don't appreciate your lip Alys. Now listen, for I shall only say this once. Tomorrow at the celebration I have invited princes, dukes, earls and barons – all of whom I deem worthy of being your husband."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. The very notion of me marrying was absolutely ridiculous, and either my father was joking or completely insane. I had no intention of aligning myself with any man, since I hadn't the desire to face the same terrible fate as my mother. But living in a loveless marriage wasn't the only reason I had chosen to remain unattached. I felt it would do my mother a great injustice if I was not the Crown Princess that she had worked so hard to raise me to be. All her suffering would have been in vain and I could not allow for that to happen. Besides, I needed the company of no man. I wasn't a snivelling, primping court lady. I didn't need a great protector and I didn't want another man to have power over me.

As it stood, my father held me firmly enough under his elaborate boots- as was evident by my current predicament.

"You don't honestly believe that I will agree to such an arrangement father," I managed to stumble out between chuckles.

"I'm afraid you will not be given much of a choice Alys. If you do not pick yourself, I shall pick for you. And I guarantee that my choice will be the one that I think will be the most undesirable for you," he retorted gruffly, clearly not appreciating my laughing at him. Without another word he left.

The smile that had played across my face the whole time my father told me of his plans lasted for several moments until after he had left. I knew then that one way or another I would be wed on the morrow unless I came up with a cunning plan. Since not selecting a husband was clearly not a choice I would be able to make, I needed some sort of alternative- some way of ensuring that no husband would so much as want to look my way.

And then, sitting in the moonlight and inspired by the lingering scent of roses, an idea struck. Although generally I was bound by the courtesy and decorum expected from a princess, I would forsake such behaviour in favour of an attitude that would be wholly undesirable to any man of noble blood. I would be a rude and unkind shrew. Then, I thought, we would see who still wanted to marry me.

So now, sitting on one of the smaller mahogany chairs beside my father, I watched as what seemed like an endless array of men lined up in front of me as if I were in an auction for horses. Some were tall, short, dark haired, light haired, bearded, shaven, slender and fat. There had to be at least 3 dozen of them, all of them full and hearty after a delicious feast of wild game and elaborate desserts. But all of them I was certain, would have flaws- flaws that I would exploit. No man liked a blow to his pride.

My father stood then, dressed in his most regal robes and an elaborately decorated crown. My step-mother, taking his hand, and my half-brother did the same as was proper. But I remained seated, my arms crossed in front of my chest and a stern expression on my face. I would not wilfully look eager to attach myself to anyone because that would be giving the entirely wrong impression.

"Honoured guests, I thank you for coming from the bottom of my heart. We are gathered here this fine eve to pay tribute to my beloved daughter on her 21st birthday," He announced. I scoffed, not even feigning my annoyance with his words. I was hardly beloved. My step-mother tossed me an incredulous look that I chose to simply ignore. As step-mothers went, Donia was hardly the worst. I wasn't treated like the Little Ash Girl from my nursemaid's stories, forced to slave away for the sake of her and her legitimate children. Instead, Lady Donia generally chose to ignore me, as if I didn't exist at all. It never really bothered me, since it wasn't as if I wanted her as a mother. I had a mother and she could never compare or compete with her- a fact which I was certain that she knew.

Nevertheless, whenever I behaved in a manner that was distinctly un-princess-like she would glance at me from the side in that same way. Her enormous, honey coloured eyes became shadowed and narrow for so short an instant that if I didn't pay attention I never would have caught it.

There was an echo of polite clapping that reverberated back and forth across the stone walls and a series of polite bows while I looked at the menagerie of men standing before me. They were lined up according to their rank and standing. The lesser nobles, knights and barons were first, followed by the earls and the dukes. Then came the princes and kings of the neighbouring realms. I knew they were the ones my father was particularly interested in having me marry. An alliance with the ruler of a kingdom meant better trade, new goods and ensured peace. I was also certain that the man I married would also be lucky with such an arrangement, for no kingdom wanted my father as an enemy. As a nation, Lustre was small, but its army was powerful and very, very dangerous. I imagined that was why most of the nobles had gathered to try and win my hand, since I doubted all of them had come to bear witness to my great beauty.

But I was beautiful. It wasn't a ploy used by my father to attract suitors, and I could say so without being arrogant or condescending because it was true. I gained no pleasure in the knowledge, nor did I particularly care about my appearance one way or another. However my father seemed to think it would be a large selling point in bargaining me off to one of the snivelling nobles. My hair was coal black, and hung in long, inky tendrils down my back until it brushed against my waist. My bright blue eyes were rimmed with long, perfect lashes which complemented my fair skin like a painting. My lips were as red as the roses in the garden.

But all the beauty in the world was irrelevant when it came to love. My mother was beautiful too and an arranged marriage didn't lead her to happily wedded bliss, so I didn't put too much faith in such a system.

The first man who approached the dais was easy to pick apart. For a few moments I hesitated. I wasn't the sort of person who would wilfully hurt the feelings of another – most especially a noble because the repercussions could have been disastrous. Right now however, was not the time to feel guilty about what I had to do.

He was enormous, his girth probably about 3 times larger than it should have been. His clothing was tight and his grey hair was balding in patches around his head.

I laughed cruelly and instantly regretted it. But there was no turning back.

"You can't possibly expect me to marry a man who would crush me on our wedding night! He's the size of a wine cask!" I objected, and watched the man's face fall. Then, after a moment he turned bright red with fury. Well that was it. It was like pulling a hair out. It hurt at first, but after a moment the pain was gone.

"I have never been treated so rudely in all of my life! You'll be lucky to find a match for your harpy of a daughter Oswick!" He harrumphed to my father, and stormed away. One down, 35 more to go. The more nobles I insulted, the easier it became. One was too skinny, one had hair as red as a roosters comb, one had a hunched back. I had insults for all of them, my tongue as poisonous as a snake's venom, striking down each man one by one until I thought I had personally demoralized every single man in the entire kingdom. I could feel how tense my father was becoming the more the suitors he'd chosen stormed out of his hall, clearly determined to get as far away from me as they could without me having to directly refuse them. But he didn't dare chastise me and make himself look like the fool that he was. It was completely unfair for him to have done this to me- to take away my birthright and force me to marry a man who I would never love. Now he would pay the price.

It seemed as though I'd been rejecting men for hours until I finally reached the last man in line. This was the reason father hadn't gotten more angry with me. This last man was the richest and also the most handsome. How convenient for him. It was a pity I wouldn't spare him from my newfound cruelty.

Although he was standing several lengths away from me I felt my heart clench in my chest. This man was one of the few who seemed to be about my age. He was tall, uncannily so, his hair was the colour of gold, and although I couldn't make out the colour of his eyes, they appeared to be narrowed at me in amusement. His mouth was curled in a strange expression, as if he couldn't tell whether to smile or not since only half of it was grinning. My problem at the moment, was that for all I examined him I could not pick out one discernable flaw to mock. My face flushed and my heart began to beat anxiously. If I could not think of one, simple insult towards this man, then I would be forced to marry him by default. Instead I needed to buy myself time, and so of insulting his appearance I'd need to try and dissuade him from marrying me another way.

"Have you nothing to say to me with your viper's tongue Princess? Or am I simply too handsome for you to insult?" he asked, his voice dripping with unabashed cynicism.

"You seem to be a glutton for punishment sir. Tell me, what is your name?"

"I am the King of Silverlake Princess Alys." That struck a bell with me, and I knew my father would have desired this match more than any other. Silverlake was the neighbouring country to the east. It was a great deal larger than Lustre, and though I'd never been there myself I'd heard from ambassadors and other nobles that it was a rich land, with fertile soil and bordering the sea. I'd always wanted to go there and swim, since Lustre was completely landlocked with no ocean in sight. But I wouldn't agree to go as the wife of a King. If I did, I doubted I'd still ever get the chance since I'd be a prisoner inside the castle- just the same as my mother and I were here. And no matter how handsome this stranger was, I'd be expected to give him an heir to the throne, and if I couldn't he'd cast me aside the same as my father had done.

"Am I to assume then, that you've come here to convince me to be your bride? And why should I?" I asked, attempting to smirk as he had earlier without as much success.

"I didn't come to convince you of anything Princess, only to see whether or not the rumours of your beauty and gentility were accurate. I am pleased that I didn't make the trip in vain, since they were at least half true. You are indeed lovely, though the gentility I heard of seems to be noticeably absent," he laughed as if he were sharing a good joke amongst friends. If I hadn't decided to make him hate me I might actually have cared about his opinion.

"Well if you don't desire to marry me then it seems as if you're wasting my time. Besides, I couldn't marry someone like you," I shot back, my brows knitting together.

"Is that so? I'm curious to know of your reason."

I flushed red again. He knew he was virtually flawless. If he were closer perhaps I could have picked out a mole, or some sort of ungainly imperfection. But as it stood I had nothing, and he knew it. His grin, wide now and full of mirth, only served to frustrate me more and more until I called out the first thing I could think of.

"You're beard is as thin and pointed as a thrush's beak! I would be in constant worry that you'd fly away from me King Thrushbeard!"