The Most Beautiful Eyes Ch. 01

Author's Notes: This story's universe shares some similarities with my Wish Granted series, but it is not the same universe. It's a completely separate universe. It's sort of an experiment. I'm not 100% sure how this story will end, but I felt like I needed to publish what I have. It's amusing me that much.

I should also note, in case some people would be confused, that a "lady's companion" was once an actual job for women in the United Kingdom at least. Their duties, precisely, might be different from the duties of a lady's companion in my universe, though. This story will involve voyeurism, bondage, and non-human encounters. It might take a while for sex to happen, but I'll get there. Slow burn and whatnot.

***

A pale and small hand, a worn out and dry hand, it gripped a pair of tongs and used it to seize a wire rack that held thick slices of bread. The wire rack was then taken to a spot close to an open flame so the bread could be toasted. The hand went up to a thinning apron so it could brush ash away.

A woman's voice a few feet away asked her, "Muriel, would you poach the eggs? I need to focus on the bacon." The sizzling noises were already beginning.

That woman was the only servant the family could afford to keep.

But Muriel Devin was working with her regardless.

"I'll be there when the bread's finished," Muriel said as her blue-gray, slightly upturned eyes scanned the crusts and crumb. Her accent was more refined than the servant's, but it wasn't any less gentle.

But suddenly, a ringing! Muriel looked up to a panel of small bells on a wall, attached to cords that were threaded through holes in that wall. One of the bells was being furiously rattled.

Evelyn.

The nostrils of Muriel's straight nose flared as she inhaled. As she exhaled, her eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to bother with her. She knows we're preparing breakfast."

"Maybe you should go," the other woman said as she poked the bacon with a fork. She had a cloth around her throat to protect it from popping grease. "We don't want her to throw a tantrum."

Muriel looked back to the bread so she could flip the wire rack. "If she does that, I'll clout her lips to a bleeding state." Her tone was a bit deeper than before.

"Oh, don't let your temper control you," the servant warned with a laugh.

But the bell was still ringing.

And ringing.

Still ringing.

And a ringing was forming in Muriel's head too. She hated those bells.

Damn, there had better been an emergency!

When Muriel was satisfied with the toast, she put the wire rack on a plate and left her tongs near that. Then she dug her short fingernails into her skirt, giving her old boots more room to move, and ran out of the kitchen. The sweat on her face slid away as she hurried. One of the pins in her light blonde topknot fell out and clinked on a stone floor.

Then she was stepping on a wooden floor, then wooden stairs.

Her smooth hair drooped a little, touching her nape, as she ran upstairs and went for Evelyn's bedroom door. She slammed that door open and sent her older sister an enraged look. "What in the world is it?!"

Evelyn was a brunette with sleepy eyes and a pouting mouth. She was still in bed, which was fine, but she looked Muriel right in her eyes and kept tugging on her cord, ringing the bell. She didn't stop until Muriel walked right to a spot beside her and laced her rough fingers before her abdomen.

"Ah, you certainly took a longer route," Evelyn said as she swiped some wrinkles out of her blanket. Her manicured fingernails glittered in the cold morning light. "I want oatmeal with fresh apricot wedges."

All the muscles in Muriel's face loosened. Then she nearly bit her tongue as she said, "You mean to say you want preserved apricots?"

Evelyn shook her head and sniffed. "Of course not! Last night, I heard a rumor that fresh apricots with oatmeal gives one fuller and softer lips. Why shouldn't I try it?"

Muriel pointed at the nearest window, which was foggy and cold, and she said, "Snow fell last night! You won't find a fresh apricot within the continent!"

Sad little lines forming in her normally smooth brow, Evelyn whined up to her with a childish voice, "You're being so nasty! There's no need to be that way!"

Muriel's foot stomped onto a soft rug that was there for Evelyn to step on whenever she got out of bed. "We're having poached eggs, bacon, toast, and jam. If you want anything different, come and make it yourself!"

Evelyn's face screwed into something like crumpled paper and she started using a high pitched, weeping kind of tone. "You're too nasty! You're always too nasty! Whenever I want something you act like a brute!"

Rolling her eyes, Muriel turned around and started walking away. She ignored Evelyn's voice as she went into the hallway ... but then she had to pause because someone else's voice was calling out to her.

Sarana.

Muriel knew she had to at least make sure her eldest sister was alright.

She went across the hall to Sarana's room. Sarana was in her bed, just as the other sister had been. Sarana was a pretty blonde with blue sapphire colored eyes, but she didn't look pretty on this morning. She was greasy and bitter, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. "I need my pills, but they aren't on my nightstand. Do you know where they are?" They were literally made of sugar, pepper, and mint. They were for refreshing the mind in the morning.

"No," Muriel softly told her, "I'm afraid not."

"Would you look for me?"

Muriel sighed. "Where did you last see them?"

Sarana gave a dull shrug. "I don't know." Her tone suggested that she thought Muriel's question was pointless.

Muriel folded her arms. Her elbow length, fitted sleeves were a little coarse under her fingers. "I'm not going to look for them right now. I have to finish with breakfast, and then eat breakfast. After that I have some sweeping, dusting," here, she tapped her boot's toe against the floor as she counted each task, "and then I'll have to wash up the dishes, then more dusting, and I need to go shopping."

Sarana became almost as whiny as Evelyn had been. "But how can I get out of bed if I don't have my pills?"

Why those sugary, spicy things weren't in their box on Sarana's nightstand wasn't a concern for Muriel at that moment. She chose to leave the room without another word.

When breakfast was ready, Muriel helped to serve the food to her older sisters and her father. Then she took her serving and sat down with everyone while the servant left to do a few other chores. Muriel was very proud of the toast.

Her father was thinner than he had been last year. His jaw was tight and his eyes were normally deep and worried. However, when he turned to look at Muriel, most of the tension in his body faded and he smiled. "Are you feeling well, Little Ferret?"

Muriel nodded. "I'm fine Papa. Thank you."

"Have your sisters been giving you trouble?"

"I haven't been given anything I can't handle."

Her father's voice sharpened. "Oh? So they have been giving you trouble." Muriel cringed at his next words. They were bitter and directed right at her beautifully dressed sisters. "Your little sister has been slaving herself ragged so you two won't have to give up your dowries! Why would you trouble her?!" He slapped the table so hard that everyone's dishes bounced and jingled. Some food and beverages dotted that table as they partially lurched out of their places.

Both of Muriel's older sisters looked down and accepted the scolding.

Their father's name was Glen Devin, and he was a stressed, somewhat miserable man. He was a merchant who dealt with many overseas goods. Thanks to some very bad luck, he was struggling under great financial burdens. He had to fire all but one of his servants, but he was determined to have his eldest daughters marry well. That meant they had to go to all the flashy parties, wear their most appealing clothing, and meet all the right people.

And they had to keep their dowries safe. While many luxurious things had been sold off, those dowries wouldn't be touched, because a woman needed a dowry to find the best possible marriage. Muriel had only recently become an adult, and she hadn't been given a dowry yet, not that her father could afford a grand one at this time. But dear, sweet Glen had sworn on his life that when he was able he would get a dowry for the youngest daughter, perhaps one even finer than her sisters'. Muriel believed him too.

This was a difficult time, but at least they weren't starving.

***

Muriel had a fur lined cloak over her figure, thick boots on her feet, warm gloves on her hands, and a basket of purchases on her arm, when she heard someone cry out on the street, "You're a fairy! A damned fairy! Cure me or I'll bash your brains onto the road!!" It sounded like a large man.

Fighting against the powdery snow, most of which had been shoveled away, Muriel hurried to the commotion. There were was an enraged man outside of a book store. He was screaming at a young woman who was beside an older, more lavishly dressed woman. Both of those females seemed quite frightened, and understandably so.

Hm? That man's skin was green, a bright and shiny green. Did he fall into a vat of dye?

Muriel watched as a passer-by, a young man with long curly hair, got between the green man and the women. "Have you no dignity?! Are you a man?! How dare you treat a woman so disgracefully?!"

Pointing one of his green fingers at the young woman, the upset man claimed, "That's a fairy! She cursed me! I know she did! Last night she refused my calling card and now I'm green! She cursed me!!"

Muriel thought about the situation for a few seconds.

Then she intervened; it wouldn't be good if more people got involved.

Her clothing fluttered in the cold air as she ran up to the group and asked in a fairly loud voice, "Where's your mark?"

The green man turned to look at Muriel with a confused expression. "Huh? What?"

Muriel drummed her fingertips on her arm as she said, "Come now, show us your mark. When a fairy puts a spell on a target, both the fairy and the target receive a mark, the same mark on the same body part. What mark formed when you became green?"

"Oh!" The green man pulled his right arm out from under his coat. Then he tugged his shirt's sleeves up. On his forearm, there was a dark blue mark, like a tattoo. It was tiny and shaped almost like a tentacle of sorts.

Muriel shrugged and looked at the young woman. "Miss, would you mind showing us your right arm?"

The woman's lips were trembling. Her pretty brown eyes were glittering with tears. Her round cheeks were pink. Her fingers nearly tore her sleeve as she revealed her forearm.

There were no marks there, not even a mole or a freckle. To be certain, Muriel removed a glove, reached for the woman's arm, and rubbed her fingers against the pale flesh. She couldn't feel any powder or paint. Looking up to the green man, Muriel announced, "She's not the one who cursed you! You'd better let her be, or else someone might accuse you of harassment!"

The green man's eyes were still quite violent as he looked at the young woman, but he backed away. The young woman thanked her with the lightest, most delicate voice. She even kissed Muriel's hand.

"What's your name, Miss?" the young woman asked.

"Muriel Devin."

The smile the young woman gave her was far too delightful.

As the two women hurried away, Muriel watched as the curly-haired man from before gave the green man a list of insults. The green man made an uninterested gesture and went off in an apparently random direction.

Muriel shrugged and checked on her purchases to make sure nothing had fallen away or had been stolen. Then she rushed away so she could return to her home's warmth.

***

A letter arrived the following morning. It was addressed to Glen Devin. The red wax seal on the envelope had the shape of a circle with a sleeping bear inside. That bear wore a crown of roses.

It was the seal of their lord's mother, Princess Arya Shirma, formerly a queen, the woman who dared to divorce the king.

The nation was called Norantha. The Devins lived in a province called Matas. Previously, the Earl of Matas was a man with two sons. And sadly, that man was murdered. His first son died of illness. His second son was convicted of shameful crimes. The next possible heir had an accident with a hunting rifle and died. The king threw his hands up, or Muriel liked to imagine he did, and then he gave all the land, the castle, and the title to his second son, Prince Vidar Petran. This meant that the current lord of that land, the Earl of Matas, wasn't only entitled to rent from his tenants. He also received an allowance from the king.

As for the prince's mother, she was a princess from Junjaia, a country full of lush jungles and crisp mountains, or so Muriel had heard. One day, for reasons that were never made truly clear to the public, she divorced the king. She gave up the right to be the Queen Consort, and she was returned to her title as a foreign princess.

Why did the princess send a letter to Glen Devin? Muriel thought she had an idea. It wasn't a secret. Everyone knew about it.

Princess Arya had been throwing her paid companions out like foot bath water. One after the other, completely unsatisfied.

A paid companion, also called a lady's companion, was an occupation that involved giving their company, conversation, and general assistance. Muriel had thought the young woman she had saved from the green man might have been a companion.

Some might call the job a false friendship one pays for. Others might call the job a way to become someone's pet. It depended on the companion's employer, really. When the employer was a royal person living in the palace, then the companion was called a lady-in-waiting. A lady-in-waiting was usually of a very high class and was paid a higher allowance than a commoner.

Princess Arya didn't live in the palace anymore. She lived in a castle with her younger son. She didn't have any ladies-in-waiting. As for companions, she was apparently being fastidious. She was dismissing each companion within a month of her service.

Now, there was a letter to Glen Devin from this princess, which likely meant that she was asking if he had any daughters he'd be willing to spare.

There were two cultured and beautiful women in the Devin family ready to be seen with royalty. Muriel knew that if one of them went off to accompany the princess, then there would be one less person to feed at home, and one less expensive lifestyle to support.

Muriel's intuition was proven correct soon. Her father explained the situation to all his daughters. Then he suggest that Sarana, the eldest daughter, should be offered to the princess as a paid companion. A few weeks later, and Sarana had all of her things packed up. She left the house with a flourishing red grin.

And she returned a week or so after that, wearing a dry glower.

"She's irrational, absolutely irrational!" Sarana told her sisters.

"But how was the prince?" Evelyn asked.

"I can't say. He's ill in bed. If you want to go to the princess, then please do. But don't start crying to me after she beats you with a cane!"

Muriel was alarmed to hear that, but Evelyn didn't seem to take the warning seriously. "I'm always the most charming guest at any party," she said. "One conversation and I'll bewitch the princess."

Evelyn certainly did volunteer her services and she went off to be the princess' next companion.

And she came back even quicker than Sarana had done, weeping and shaking. "She's a monster!" Evelyn insisted. "Completely unreasonable!"

At this point, Muriel wasn't sure what the truth was. Her sisters had their tempers and they could exaggerate anything. Perhaps this princess was horrible. Or perhaps Muriel's sisters had tried the princess' patience, which had earned a nice load of wrath. One way or the other, Muriel couldn't decide.

But her father urged her to make a very important decision.

"The princess has asked for you to go to her, Ferret." He held her hands as he begged. "Please go, please! You're the most sensible girl here, and I know you'll please Her Highness."

Muriel sighed and told him, "Nobody will be here to care for the house while I'm gone."

Her father shook his head. "We'll manage. Don't worry. Go on to Her Highness and serve her well. You can send a portion of your allowance to us, and a woman of her status would pay you very well. You'll also meet all the finest people in the country. This is the best thing for you."

By the finest people, what her father meant was, "people who had some level of power in this country, usually wealthy." Muriel wasn't naive enough to assume these people were automatically fine, and she didn't have much interest in them.

But she knew that if she were able to serve this princess then her family would benefit from the money she'd earn. She'd also be able to save up for a very nice dowry for herself in time.

Muriel agreed to her father's wish. She wasn't leaping with joy, but she was willing to go to their lord's castle.

***

If you were to see a well dressed lady who paid attention to the most recent magazines and fashion dolls walking down a street during, for example, a warm spring day, you'd see a colorful and bold silhouette. The shape of this woman's skirt would be extended at the sides while the front and back would be flat, a result provided by a set of panniers or side hoops. The more formal the occasion, or the richer the woman, the wider the skirt was. Yet for practicality's sake, a wealthy woman walking down a street would have reasonably smaller panniers.

This woman would be wearing a chemise and a set of stays, also called a corset, underneath her colorful gown. Stockings with garters were also a requirement. A poorer woman would still have these things, but they would often be of cheaper materials and they would need more repairs over time.

It wasn't spring, however. It was winter, and Muriel wasn't very colorful as she sat inside the carriage being pulled down a long road. She had perhaps two bright and nice dresses packed among her more worn clothing, and they were for important events in general. Their skirts were made for decently wide panniers, and Muriel had one special set tucked away, but the panniers she wore inside the carriage was much narrower.

As for the complete gown, it was a beaver brown with no embroidery or painted patterns, ordinary and simple. She had a cloak, a fur muff for her hands, and a blank face.

After a good time, Muriel was taken up to the Vantrim Castle, the building that had been claimed by the second son of the king.

First, up through a forest of ice coated trees. Second, through fields of snow. Third, up a cliff overlooking the sea, where the castle waited. There was a thick and high curtain wall around the keep, forming a square, with a portcullis that reminded Muriel of imprisonment. That portcullis was lifted for the carriage, and as the vehicle was pulled through the wall, Muriel was able to see more of the castle through a window.

As white as the snow that surrounded it, the main keep and the other buildings around it were intimidating and dizzying. There were so many doors, windows, balconies, and bridges that Muriel didn't know where to let her eyes rest.

She was going to live in this place!!

She'd become lost every day. That was guaranteed.

When the carriage stopped, a man opened the door and helped Muriel out. More men went to get all her luggage. She was told they were going to put her things in her new room. She tried to tell them that she could carry her luggage all on her own, but they all refused her.