Pulchritude Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Technical Details

  Note to the Reader

  Dedication

  Chapter 1 - Rosella

  Chapter 2 - Ezio

  Chapter 3 - Guerrino

  Chapter 4 - Bella

  Chapter 5 - Marchetta

  Chapter 6 - Cienzo

  Chapter 7 - Venizia

  Chapter 8 - Fiorita

  Chapter 9 - Bella

  Chapter 10 - Ezio

  Chapter 11 - Bella

  Chapter 12 - Fiorita

  Chapter 13 - Ezio

  Chapter 14 - Bella

  Chapter 15 - Ezio

  Chapter 16 - Guerrino

  Chapter 17 - Bella

  Chapter 18 - Ezio

  Chapter 19 - Marchetta

  Chapter 20 - Rosella

  Acknowledgments

  About the Artists

  Ana Mardoll

  Clarissa Filice

  Emily Vreeland

  Character Portraits

  Character Portrait: Rosella

  Character Portrait: Ezio

  Character Portrait: Guerrino

  Character Portrait: Bella

  Character Portrait: Cienzo

  Character Portrait: Venizia

  Character Portrait: Marchetta

  Character Portrait: Fiorita

  Character Portrait: Flavio

  Deconstruction

  La Belle et la Bete

  Feminist Fairy Tale

  Humility and Hubris

  Children as Collateral

  Submission and Refusal

  Stockholm Seduction

  Return and Rescue

  Social Security

  Changelings and Changes

  Modern Spins

  Endnotes

  Sources

  Other Links

  Trigger Warnings

  Back Cover

  Pulchritude 1

  ... an ugly tale of beauty

  by Ana Mardoll

  Copyright © 2011 Ana Mardoll

  This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivativeWorks License. To view a copy of this license, visit the Creative Commons website for the human-readable explanation a and full legal code b of the license, or send a letter to:

  Creative Commons

  559 Nathan Abbott Way

  Stanford, California 94305, USA

  This e-book file may be circulated freely for non-commercial use, with text unchanged, and the author must be identified and credited.

  Title: Pulchritude

  ISBN: 978-0-9849822-0-2

  Author: Ana Mardoll c

  Publisher: Acacia Moon Publishing d

  Lawyer: Brooke Mixon e

  Editor: Elaine Kennedy f

  Character Artist: Emily Vreeland g

  Cover Artist: Clarissa Filice h

  Cover Fonts: Black Jack i, Shonar Bangla j, Estrangelo Edessa k, Calibri l

  If you believe your copyrighted work has been infringed upon, please contact the author.

  Technical Details

  Length: 60,000 words / 200 pages

  Audience: This work is written primarily for an Adult and Young Adult audience.

  Triggers: This work contains potentially triggering content, a list of which is provided on the Trigger Warnings page. Please note that lists of triggers may be seen by some as "spoilers" for book content.

  Format: This e-book was created in ePUB format m via the Sigil program n, then converted to mobi format y via the Calibre program. z

  Distribution: This work is available through multiple distribution outlets. A list of these outlets and a sample of this work are available on the author's website. o

  Digital Rights Management: This e-book is DRM-free. If you believe the distribution outlet where you obtained the e-book has erroneously applied DRM, please contact the author for a replacement file.

  Derivative Commercial Works: This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivativeWorks License in an attempt to strike the best balance between consumer freedom to use-and-distribute and consumer protection. In other words, this means you're welcome to copy and share this book freely.

  The author is open to the possibility for derivative works (both non-commercial and commercial), including "fan fiction" works, and encourages anyone interested in such a project to contact the author for a license waiver. Thank you.

  Note to the Reader

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for opening this book and providing me with the chance to entertain you. I hope that you will find this novel as delightful to read as it was for me to write. Please feel free to contact me for any reason at [email protected] or on my website at www.AnaMardoll.com. If you enjoy this book and would like to donate to support my writing efforts, there is a donation link available on my website.

  The world you are about to enter is fictional and fantastical. Scattered pieces may be recognizable from our history, but a number of details -- including the racial makeup of the setting -- are entirely ahistorical. I have also attempted to give each narrator their own voice, and to allow them to present the truth as they see it. My hope is that you will enjoy reading their sometimes unreliable accounts and will arrive at a truth that has meaning for you.

  Thank you again,

  ~ Ana Mardoll

  Dedication

  To my dear Husband, who carries me when I cannot walk, holds me when I cannot sleep, and comforts me when I cannot smile. You are my hands, my heart, and the source of my deepest joy.

  Also, to my cats, who hiss at my dear Husband for being so unreasonably tall.

  Chapter 1 - Rosella

  Rosella eyed the darkening sky appreciatively as she walked the dirt-packed road. The sky had threatened rain all day, and she was thrilled to see thick thunderclouds rolling overhead as dusk approached. She hadn't planned on a downpour, and did not have the necessary skill with weather to create one even if she had, but a storm would add a nice touch to tonight's events.

  She had been walking for weeks since she had awakened from her winter sleep, traveling through the country with no real destination in mind, until a night spent in a country village had planted in her mind an idea that promised to be amusing. The village itself had been disappointing: a small collection of straw-thatched houses inhabited by a handful of land-bound serfs and itinerant workers. The villagers had been deeply suspicious of her, but the gossip they had been willing to share was of the recent death of the local lord and the upcoming nuptials of his heir. From the shabby condition of the village, Rosella gathered that the elder lord had been an impoverished country prince. No doubt the lord's extensive debts would pass to his heir along with the usual prestigious titles and enviable blood-relationships to distant emperors.

  The politics of the situation had been breathtakingly dull, but Rosella's interest was piqued by the news that the young heir, now in his second or third decade of life (she had never been very good at remembering mortal ages), would soon be receiving guests to announce the news of his wedding. Opinions were varied on what this event would mean for the villagers, with speculation ranging over the prospect of holidays, stag hunts, and almsgiving. Yet for Rosella the possibilities of the event were perfectly clear. She set out from the village the next morning without causing even the slightest bit of mischief in the village, her feet almost dancing with anticipation.

  Now the sky was darkening with the coming of evening and the threat of rain, and she was certain that she would arrive just in time for the festivities. A dozen carriages had passed her on the road during the day -- frilly, gilded things with spoiled nobles on the inside and weary coachmen on the outside -- and she had whiled away
the walk with thoughts of which carriage she would follow out after her dramatic exit tonight. Of course, such thoughts were getting ahead of herself. Rosella glanced at the sky again and fervently hoped that the foul weather wouldn't cause her newest target to relent and offer her succor. If that happened, her fun would be thoroughly spoiled, but she could always stay in the area and try again in a few months if another opportunity arose. Time meant little to the fata 2, and good amusement was worth a little extra effort.

  The road crested a hill, and Rosella paused to take in the view of the valley below. The forest that had been closing in thickly on either side of the road stopped abruptly here. The land in the little valley had been diligently cleared away to make room for a small country castle and a few surrounding orchards and fields. The castle itself was unimposing, its squat towers built with stone blocks cut so roughly that heavy drafts and thick damps would be as familiar to the royal family as to the poorest of their serfs. From her vantage point, Rosella could see in the dim evening light servants milling about the castle courtyard and lighting torches in the newly-budding orchard.

  A brown hare, freshly awakened and caught in the grip of his spring frenzy, sprinted wildly across the meadow that spanned the short distance between castle and forest. Once within the shelter of the woods, he halted and his long ears twitched once in Rosella's direction. She stifled a laugh as his eyes warily scanned the area where she stood. After a short moment, his ears won out over his eyes and he sped off into the woods. Rosella smirked; she knew that if the animal had seen anything at all, it would have been only the slightest of shimmers in the air. She had a great deal of practice at fooling mortal eyes.

  As the thunder rumbled overhead in earnest and a chill wind started to blow, Rosella decided that it was time for the game to begin. The fairy woman stepped out from under the shelter of the trees, shedding her invisibility and shaping around herself a new form. Had anyone been there to watch, they would have seen a battered old woman dressed in the poorest of rags emerge slowly from the forest. Her ancient face was lined with the indelible marks of hard living; her back was humped and she walked bent at the waist. Her movements were painfully slow, as though years of heavy burdens had left her gait hobbled. As she picked her way along the side of the road, brambles ripped and tore at her tattered hem and at the stained rags tied over her feet.

  Rosella gritted her teeth and leaned into the gathering wind, struggling toward the castle courtyard. She could not feel the pain of the brambles, nor was she bothered by the bite of the wind, but she knew from experience that it was important that she look as though she suffered from such realities. Anything less than a flawless performance could alert the target to her true nature, and humans were always on their best behavior when they suspected a fata was in their midst.

  A smile curved over her lips, safely hidden from sight by the straggled hair plastered to her creased face. She couldn't help but be pleased with the perfection of her disguise. A good disguise was built from so much more than the magic that shaped it, and it was always the little details that made the piece complete. Rosella excelled at the details that many of her fellow fata did not bother to notice when they played among humans: the unmistakable odor of sweat, the papery skin of weathered hands, the tremulous shaking of a body gone too long without food and warmth. The key was to make the disguise as pathetic as possible without being so wretched that only the sadistic would turn her away. The goal was to maximize her righteous fury while minimizing the chance that a target might slip the net. She carefully leaned into another cold gust, relishing the enjoyment she always felt when on the hunt.

  No one could begrudge her for finding amusing ways to pass the centuries. It wasn't as if the humans didn't have free will in the matter; she never used her power to force them to turn her away. It was true that she allowed herself multiple tests to truly gauge their mettle, and indeed one young duke had proved a challenge that spanned nearly a decade, granting her succor eight times before failing her ninth test. However, if one possessed a pure heart, then a hundred tests would yield the same result, and she would leave them forever with her blessing. It wasn't her fault that eventually they all gave in to their pride and arrogance.

  She was halfway between the forest and the castle when the downpour started in earnest. Staccato bursts of rain whipped at her frail form as she hobbled along the road. The sharply pelting drops churned the dirt road into sticky black mud that clung to her clothes with thick tenacity. A carriage, late for the engagement party, drove by too quickly on the slick road and sprayed a coating of mud over her. Peering out through the patina of slime that now covered her face and tangled hair, Rosella carefully memorized the shape and color of the offending carriage. "Well, that answers the question of who to visit next," she thought triumphantly. Everything hinged on getting tonight as perfect as possible.

  Through the thickening rain, Rosella could see the gilded carriages dotted around the castle courtyard as the latecomer took one of the few remaining places near the castle doors. The sight of the carriages lifted her spirits higher, for the engagement party was why she had chosen tonight, and why she knew her trap was perfect. The game was always so much more fun when it was played for an audience, and her targets were always especially ill-mannered when other humans were present.

  By the warm light cast by the open castle doors, she saw servants scurrying between the carriages, handling luggage, and tending to weary animals. Other figures milled more slowly about the sheltered courtyard. "Beggars, like myself," Rosella absently guessed. A wry smile crossed her lips a moment later at the thought that these humans might have anything in common with herself. Perhaps she'd played this game a little too long if she'd begun to think such ridiculous thoughts. Maybe it was time for a long rest, but it was so hard to give up the game when it was such wonderful fun.

  Rosella watched the figures in the courtyard, noting with considerable interest that none of the humans ever crossed the threshold of the imposing castle doors. As the servants labored with luggage and the beggars milled about seeking employment, both groups studiously avoided the light spilling from the main doors. Instead, they slipped into the dark shadows on either side of the castle. Rosella decided that some back kitchen door or stable entrance was what the commoners were expected to use, and she was certain that breaking this protocol would be a perfect start to the evening. She allowed herself a very small giggle as she lowered her head and trudged on toward the beckoning doors.

  Her favorite game was about to begin.

  Chapter 2 - Ezio

  Ezio sighed with pleasure as a gust of cool air burst through the open castle doors and swirled around the stuffy hall. The older matrons glared fruitlessly at the disturbance and shuffled closer to the fireplace, clutching protectively at their elaborate hairstyles. His own hair fluttered pleasantly with the wind and he felt relief at having the sweat lifted from his brow. There had been a few unhappy mutters about leaving the doors open as the latecomers to the party were welcomed and the servants finished their preparations in the dining hall, but no one had been brazen enough to complain directly to the prince. Ezio almost wished that someone would complain; a full day of receiving distant relatives had put his nerves severely on edge, and he could use a good excuse to vent his frustration.

  Standing close enough to the main doors to be the first to welcome any latecomers to his engagement party, Ezio crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed his guests with resentment. The muggy weather had caused many of the velvet tunics and brocade gowns of the party to be stained with sweat and the stench made Ezio gag. Idly he imagined hurling this fact as a choicely-worded insult at the clump of ladies gossiping by the hall hearth, and wondered how they would react. Ezio turned back toward the cool breeze and tried to banish his irritation so that he could be appropriately pleasant for the dinner announcement. "You're just tired," he coached himself. "Get through tonight and everything will be fine."

  "Quite the crowd," a voice murmur
ed appreciatively at his side. Ezio glanced to his left to see his younger brother, Flavio, standing quietly by with a full wine glass in each hand. "The castle hasn't seen so many guests since the funeral."

  "Quite the expense," Ezio retorted grumpily, taking the proffered wine glass gratefully. "At least when Father died, a week of seven-course meals wasn't expected." He wanted to bite his words back as soon as he'd said them. It wasn't appropriate to his station to speak of such crass matters, but his anxiety had made him more candid than he should be. He drained the wine glass in a single gulp and reminded himself to maintain decorum.

  "Nothing but the best for Cousin Adelina," Flavio countered mischievously, breaking into a wide grin. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Her dowry will more than make up for the initial investment. I should consider myself lucky to wed even the handmaiden of such a distinguished lady," he reminded Ezio with a teasing pout.

  Ezio shot a disapproving look at his younger half-brother, but then smiled in spite of himself. Flavio had been born on the wrong side of the blanket, and with his bastard blood he would never rise higher in the world than his current position of captain of the castle guard. His position was cold comfort, since the castle guard consisted of no more than a dozen young men tasked to ensure that the servants didn't walk off with the kitchen silver and expected to join Ezio for his morning hunts in the forest. But Flavio's self-effacing charm made him impossible to dislike, and if Flavio harbored any bitterness at being eclipsed by his half-brother, he never showed it outside of the occasional good-natured gibe.