Chapter 3
White Princess Black Ambitions
From atop the tower of her castle, Eesha stared out towards the horizon, towards the land of the Goblin King, the man who had belittled and scorned her ten years prior, the man whom, while she could not love, she obsessed for. Every night she imagined the feel of leather clad hands upon her body, stroking her skin as one would their dearest love. The wind whipped her snow white locks and the chill bit into her cheeks, frosting them with the tiniest ice crystals, yet she felt nothing. Such was her curse. Her choice, her curse. Her beauty was renowned as legend in her own time, her full lips and ethereal lithe frame, all of it hid her cruelty, her heartless interior. She pulled her deep sapphire cloak tighter around her shoulders and smiled wistfully. He would be in mourning soon. In time, she would pay her respects when it was common knowledge that he was in mourning. Would he even remember her? So long ago had forsaken her family name, what was it now, three? Four years? To so many she was known only as the White Princess.
Her plan was taking shape. When it never came to common knowledge that he would be seeking a wife as his chosen one had passed away, she would send an emissary from the ice lands to seek his council and request a meeting. Ten long years she had tried to win his affections, gifts, promises, visits, nothing. Barely an audience. She had attended the galas and courts and dances – nothing. Nothing. Barely a look. And she had wondered why until her Lord had come into her life, had given her the reason the Goblin King had no interest in her. But now, now he would. She had been transformed, she was no longer that pitiful creature that had groveled at his feet and begged for his affection, had made her own dresses and been thrown out of the Fae Court, no longer was she the pathetic scullery girl gasping for a glimpse of him. She was the Lady Eesha, the White Princess, and she would take her rightful place beside her King.
It had taken her years to find the child of the Evensun, but found her she had, with the assistance of her Lord. And although Eesha, daughter of Lazaruss de'A'alth, could not cross over to the Above, she had been able to ensure the death of the daughter of the Evensun through a well purchased enchantment that had cost her much. The payment she would have to give waited for her even now in her bedroom. What was another small piece of herself now? What was another shred of her faeity when she was so close to her endgame? She stared out to the horizon, breathing deeply. Her King would be hers on the eve of the summer festival – she would fulfill the prophecy, and he would be hers, as would all of the Underground, and she would be free of her master's choke hold. It was that simple, she thought, fingering the jeweled collar that encircled her neck. She had given him so much of herself already, what could he take from her now? In the beginning it had been her heart…then the luster of her hair…the color of her skin….the kindness…love…there was still enough of her left though that was Fae, she was not without her blood, the Fae half of her soul. She had paid for what she was and what she wanted with the part of her that was befouled by humanity. She was not his yet, and never would be. She belonged in her mind to Jareth. She was still beautiful, still had her soul, her graces…though she was far from what she had been born.
Eesha had not been born of powerful magic. Truth be told her father had not been anything special. Her father was a lesser Fae, skilled only in the weakest of magic – for growing his pathetic herbs, a filthy street vendor -, her mother, a foul human slave, had carried her nine months, given birth, and left her at her farmer father's feet and summarily died. Served her right, served all humans right. Disgusting animals. Eesha had been raised by her father, a callous and cruel man. As soon as she was able, he had put her to work to replace the slave in her mother that he had lost. At ten years of age it was apparent that she would be lovely, being half human, she aged faster than a fae. At thirteen, he had sold her virtue to the highest bidder, and proceeded to ensure that his best clients received her services as well as his, until she had run. Skilled as she was in herbs and gardening, she had found work in the capital city as a healer to a lesser Fae family. And then, twelve years ago, her eyes had fallen on the Goblin King, and as it had happened time and again with women throughout the realms, she had fallen in love. When by chance he had stopped at the family's home to water his horse during one of the hunts, they had chatted briefly. Thanking her for her kindness, the Goblin King had kissed her hand and proclaimed her the most lovely creature for miles, winked, and was gone. But that kiss, that wink, had grown in Eesha's mind like a festering wound, taking her over completely.
Her desire for more than she had been given in life, coupled with the fantasy of the roguish Goblin King, drove her to abandon the family she had come to work for to visit the outlying lands – she had stayed there for weeks, begging entry outside of the Labyrinth which would not yield its doors to her. When finally he had come to her, he had dismissed her as a child, told her to go home to her father. But Eesha understood that something must have turned his heart from her, and she did not blame him. How could she? She would once more win his affections, would once more be the most lovely woman in his eyes, once more feel his lips upon her. Eesha would have done anything for the Goblin King, he only needed to see it himself. Her resolve strengthened.
As she wandered the outlying lands, Eesha prayed. She prayed to whomever listened, prayed for him, for them. Her answer had come to her in a strange and knarled dream, a dream that beckoned her to pay a visit Lord Daviaen. On her knees, her chocolate hair falling to the ground, she had promised all she was and all she could be to have Jareth as hers. The Lord of the Wraithe smiled down upon her, his twisting kindness encircling her as a snake and took her chin in his hand and gazed into her eyes. Anything…His had had snaked out to her breast, and as if her skin and bone were but water, he reached through and withdrew the essence of love. A small glowing ember. Her payment had been her heart. In its place, Lord Daviaen placed a crystal of ice, the source of her power, and granted her lands at the north of his realm, she was to be his Lady of the Ice, his White Princess, to serve him unconditionally and without question, then he would give her the path to all she desired. She had agreed, and her once rich hair drained of its color, her deep green eyes became ice blue and her capacity for love diminished to nothing. Only her obsession with the King of the Goblins remained. Her father did not recognize the White Princess, but fell to his knees in awe of her beauty and begged the woman to let him give her anything, his home, his lands, his love. Without a mote of compassion, feeling not even disgust at the man before her, she killed him, assumed her new and true title, and left for the Lands and Castle she had been promised.
True to his word, Lord Daviaen told her of the little known prophecy of the mortal child who would be queen, a prophecy one of his spies had discovered thirteen years past when a certain mortal child had run the infamous Labyrinth – a prophecy that promised all the riches of the Underground to its named heir, or so his honeyed words had been spun to the wild eyed and desperate Eesha.. It had been all she had needed. Through scrying, spying, deceit and trickery, she had found the girl and had arranged circumstances just so, a triggered charm was all it had taken. But it had not been easy and it had cost her much, but it would be worth the effort.
Turning once more away from the horizon, away from her destiny, Eesha de A'alth, daughter of Lazaruss de'A'alth, Lady of the Ice Lands, the White Princess of the North and future Queen of the Goblin Lands, began the long descent down the tower to deliver payment to Lord Daviaen. What was one more piece of her soul?