The Most Beautiful Eyes Ch. 06

On some afternoons, Muriel had her blind chats with Prince Vidar. On other afternoons, Muriel would sit on that white couch and enjoy her time as the prince watched her. She always had a snack on those occasions, and she ate them with enthusiasm.

Sometimes, Muriel wore a pair of shoes that could be easily slipped on and off. Why? Because she had received a message from the prince about how he would like to see her relaxing with her shoes off. It was a much less formal experience than accompanying Princess Arya.

During one blind chat, Muriel asked the prince, "How would you describe your life before you were cursed?"

"Hmmm? I suppose I did what would be expected. I attended all the vital events, along with the most entertaining ones. I laughed and," here, his voice seemed to slowly roll down a hill and into something depressing, "and ... and I had friends ... friends and other varieties of people near me."

Muriel sighed and flexed her gloved fingers. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I shouldn't have asked such a bitter question.

"No, you're not in the wrong, Miss. You're only curious."

"You're too kind, Sir."

The following moment was quiet. Muriel waited and waited. Just when she was about to say something, however, the prince spoke, and he used a very gentle tone.

"I wish I could touch ... No ... I'm sorry. I meant that ...?"

Muriel's eyebrows lowered as she moved her head to one side. "Your Highness?"

"No. Never mind."

She wished she could have put a hand on her hips. "Unless you're planning to stab me while I'm so vulnerable, I don't see why you shouldn't be happy. Please tell me, Your Highness, of your wish."

Muriel heard the creaking of fabric and perhaps even the light popping of some joints. She thought she felt breath flutter on the top of her head.

"I ... I have ... a certain opinion." He almost sounded like he was trying to make a question. "You ... I think you're ... ah," his voice sped up in the end, "you're one of the most beautiful women in the world."

More quiet, but even though it was indeed quiet, Muriel wondered if she listened carefully enough could she hear his body strain under his own emotional weight. She wasn't angry or embarrassed. This was usually how men were. When they thought a woman was beautiful they wanted to tell her so.

"Your Highness, you might as well have told me that you like or dislike winter. This information hasn't harmed me, but it doesn't have much weight in it." That last bit was a lie. Muriel did like that he thought she was beautiful.

"I ... I'm sorry?"

"Lately, compliments towards my appearance have been as common as soil, and much easier to produce."

"Oh, I suppose you're right ... but what I mean is ... Miss ...?"

Muriel shook her head a little and said, "Oh Your Highness, I do love these conversations, but I wish you'd be swift and direct.

"I wish I could touch you!"

"Oh." Muriel's belly felt like it was curdling, but she thought she needed to pretend she wasn't affected. "I didn't know you were unable to touch me." She even faked a small chuckle. "You could slap me quite easily."

Sudden ... smooth warmth, it made Muriel gasp.

Above the ropes keeping her wrist in place, she felt a single fingertip. It seemed normal.

Muriel inhaled and swallowed her moment of astonishment. Then she smiled. "There, you've touched me."

His voice ... it was closer than normal. She thought goosebumps were forming on her throat. "Is this fine?"

"Oh no," Muriel flatly replied, "I'm being violated. How will I ever recover? When you're finished I'll have no recourse but to leap off the cliff."

She heard and almost felt the prince cough his laughter away. "You're a very tolerating sort of woman."

"And you're a very tolerating sort of man. I know I can be a burden."

The fingertip slid perhaps an inch up her arm. It was fairly pleasant. Muriel had to ignore a fluttering in her heart. "I don't know if you're humble or polite," said the prince. The fingertip rose and went off to the dark world Muriel couldn't perceive.

Something even more unexpected happened the next day.

As Prince Vidar stayed near her, discussing some innocent little topic that wasn't very important, a single hand went right over Muriel's gloved one, the right one. Then, Muriel felt something she didn't think would ever come.

Smooth and hot, like a gentle stamp, it went to her forehead.

And the prince moved back and said, "You're important to me, terribly so."

Muriel wanted to ask if he'd just kissed her, but she was afraid that he'd feel insulted. She only said, "My lord is far too kind."

"Maybe that's true. I can't say, but I know I'm happy that you're here." Muriel heard him step away. "But I should leave you now."

She nodded. "Yes, Sir. Thank you."

***

An interesting and possibly shocking request was made of Muriel. Normally, she would have been very indignant towards such a request, but she wasn't. Perhaps she felt pity. Perhaps her heart was softening. She couldn't rightly give the reason if she had been asked about it.

In a secret little note locked way for only her eyes, Prince Vidar asked if she would be kind enough to sit in the bare room with bare feet exposed.

So, Muriel undressed and removed her stays. Stays were fairly tight and it was difficult to put on stockings and shoes while wearing them. She untied her stockings and peeled them away. Then she put her feet in simple shoes, put her stays back on, and donned a vivid gown. Muriel hoped that the doctor wouldn't notice.

Inside the room, she sat down on the couch and found a covered dish. On the low table before her there was the typical wine and reading materials. Muriel smiled and lifted the lid.

Oh my!!

A cake with a circumference similar to Muriel's palm. Two disks of pumpkin cake layered with crushed pralines and whipped cream. Lots of whipped cream!

She opened the bottle of wine. It looked oddly ... brown and thick ... and it smelled like ... chocolate? Was this wine mixed with chocolate? Chocolate wine? Goodness!

Muriel slid off her shoes and stretched her bare toes out towards the lit fireplace. A rug had been laid down so her skin wouldn't be chilled by the stone floor. She poured a glass of the chocolate wine and picked up a book to read.

Her toes flexed and wiggled. The spaces between each digit appreciated the heat. The wine was nice, rich and almost intimidating. The cake was spicy but in the most gratifying way. Muriel loved the whipped cream.

When her belly was full and half the wine was gone, Muriel curtsied and thanked her kind watcher for the dessert.

Later that night, as Muriel was slipping into bed, she wondered if Prince Vidar thought her feet were pretty. On pure impulse, she sat up and lit a few extra candles just so she could bend a leg and look at a foot.

It was small and finely shaped, clean and groomed. There wasn't anything offensive about it. Maybe he did like it.

She put her fingers between her toes. Then she pulled the fingers out and touched the ball of the foot. Soft and warm.

Wait.

Muriel's eyes narrowed as she examined something that happened to catch her attention.

A spot, a small dot, nearly a perfect circle, just under the fleshy pad of one of her smaller toes.

Was it a freckle or a mole? Muriel had almost none on her entire body, and she thought she knew her feet well. When did that spot show up?

Very gently, she pulled that toe back only a bit so she could look more closely.

Why ... was there ... a dark blue sheen?

That wasn't a normal mole.

Muriel's breath was squeezed out of her body. Her jaw dropped. Her eyes turned nearly mad. She trembled as she desperately rubbed the spot with her thumb, hoping it would come off.

No.

NO!!

A fairy had put a mark on her.

***

The distant piano music drifted along as Muriel fidgeted with a lock of her hair. She was supposed to be embroidering a basket of fruits into some tight fabric, but she couldn't focus well. Her mind had been battling with itself all morning and most of last night. She hadn't slept well.

Nothing about her seemed different, nothing at all, aside from the mark.

But something had clearly changed, otherwise the mark wouldn't be there.

So what was it? What did a fairy do to her? Who was the fairy? Why was this done?

"Muriel?"

"Hm?"

"Muriel!"

"Oh?! Your Highness?" Muriel looked up at the princess. "How may I serve you?"

Princess Arya's needle was in the air, a long string of a rich blue trailing down to her fabric. "You're quite unbalanced this morning. Would you fancy a cup of green tea?"

"That ... that would be very kind of you, Madam."

The women abandoned their frames for tea in a sitting room. The piano music stopped once the tea was ready for them. Muriel poured a cup for the princess and then she took a cup for herself. She still didn't like green tea, but she didn't mind drinking it. It was considered to be very healthy and calming.

In a strict tone, Princess Arya suddenly told Muriel, "You might have had too much sugar lately. I'll ask the cooks to reduce the amount of sugar in the desserts for the next month."

Muriel nodded but she also sighed. "Yes, Madam."

"And that includes all the opportunities you have for desserts." She didn't sound angry, but she was emphatic.

"Thank you for your concern."

A sip of tea, a nod, and then the princess said, "You aren't forbidden from all the sweet things, mind you. Only the amount of cane and beet sugars will be decreased. There will be no limit placed on fruit and honey."

Muriel inhaled her tea's sharp fragrance and tried to think of the most relaxing things in the world.

Later, when she was alone in the room in the prince's quarters with the empty bookcase, she found a pot of tea with a single cup. It wasn't green tea, though. It was something dark and floral. A plate of warm scones were also waiting on her. An experimental bite told her that they were sweetened with honey and bits of dried plums.

Muriel's belly was warmed and almost soothed as she drank the tea and looked around the bare room. She had called it the "Empty Room" in her mind because aside from whatever was needed for her comfort and enjoyment there wasn't much around.

She was trying not to think about the mark.

It wasn't a noticeable mark. Muriel could easily keep that a secret, but she was heavily concerned with what spell was placed on her. What changed? She wasn't experiencing a permanent illness, or a change in her flesh's color, or anything particularly obvious.

She was quiet.

And she realized she was thinking about the mark even though she had been trying not to.

Muriel winced and tried to think of something else, but she couldn't.

Even when she was finished eating she still hadn't said anything aloud.

***

On the next afternoon, when Muriel was blindfolded and kept in the now very familiar chair, waiting as Prince Vidar locked the door and stepped to his favored spot before her, she was still worrying over herself. When he spoke to her, she didn't hear him at first.

"Miss? Miss!"

"Hm? Oh, please forgive me, Your Highness. I didn't mean to be so rude to you."

She heard his clothing rustle, and she felt his body heat as he apparently moved closer. "You've been burdened by something. Mother was so worried that she altered your diet, but is it possible that this isn't related to your diet?"

Muriel would have drooped and fallen over if she hadn't been physically restrained. "I ... I suppose I've been concerned for my future."

"Oh? That's a normal thing to fret over." There was a mild cheerfulness in his voice. "But please don't let your worries damage your health. Too much stress can exhaust your body."

"Thank you for your concern, Your Highness," Muriel said automatically.

But she still wasn't in much of a talkative mood. Prince Vidar was doing most of the talking, but after a few minutes, Muriel heard him snort ... or some other brand of exhalation ... and then he said with a tired voice, "Please, please cheer up. There's plenty of good in this world. You can find happiness."

"Sir, how ... how can you say such a thing? Were you not cursed by a fairy? People can be so vicious. The world is dangerous and cruel."

His fingers went right above her wrist, touching the space between the ropes and her sleeves. She was used to that by now. "Yet kind people remain," he said, "and they should be treasured." Muriel shivered when his breath touched her cheek and nose. He didn't stink. He smelled normal and clean. "And I believe you're a kind person."

Muriel shook her head a little. "You're teasing me."

"Perhaps I am." His fingers moved down, past the ropes and to her glove. One of those fingers dipped under the glove. "I wish I could hold your hand."

If Muriel's face was pink, she wouldn't have been surprised. She felt as if she had put her face near a roaring oven. "I don't know what to say."

He was touching the back of her hand.

Prince Vidar's breath quickened. His voice lowered into something that reminded Muriel of hot syrup drizzled onto a thick cake. "I could ... but maybe I could try something else."

Muriel was unable to speak.

Because something warm and smooth and careful was against her lips.

No ... was he ...?

Her chest rose and fell very smoothly and happily. Her body felt heavy but relaxed. Her mouth tingled.

She heard his light groan.

Felt something new.

Something thick and slippery and ...

Why exactly Muriel opened her mouth and let that thing inside, she couldn't have answered, and for more reasons than only one.

This ... this was a kiss ... a kiss of passion, of romance, and of lust. It was a swirling, pulsing, life giving kiss, even though Muriel felt weak. Her thighs squeezed together. Her womanhood fluttered. Her fingers tightened. Her limbs pulled on the carefully tied rope.

He pulled back, making a wet noise, but he grumbled out, "Please forgive me."

"No," Muriel murmured. "No, I mean, please. Again. Again!"

His hand curled over hers.

And he kissed her again.

Yes.

She whined into him.

It lasted a good while, but they eventually parted. Muriel's lips were wet.

He didn't say anything particularly romantic, but he did say her name, softly, tenderly, as if the name was part of a lullaby. Then he asked, "Tomorrow, would you mind showing me more of you?"

"Hm? More?"

"Yes ... a calf ... or an elbow ... something new."

She gave into her emotions. She laughed, but it wasn't a cruel laugh. "I don't mind."

"Tha ... thank you." His hand slipped away and his heat did the same. "I'll unlock the door and ring for the doctor. You need a rest."

Muriel thought he probably needed a rest too.

***

She wasn't wearing a tight corset. She had on quilted jumps and a loose shirt over that. She felt terribly under dressed as Doctor Bergson walked her to Prince Vidar's quarters. If he took any offense over her attire, however, then he didn't show it.

Inside the Empty Room, Muriel sat down on the couch and enjoyed the glowing fireplace. Her snack consisted of crispy curled wafers filled with fruit. Her beverage was water lightly flavored by flower petals.

She bent down and slowly, revealing only an inch at a time, pulled her skirts up to her knees. Then she pushed her expensive little shoes away from her feet. She crossed her legs rather flamboyantly, and she untied one of her garters. At first, as she rolled the stocking away, her leg was cooled by the air, but the fire lulled the flesh. When that was was bare, she crossed her legs in the opposite manner and repeated her steps with the other limb.

With her legs indecently displayed, Muriel picked up a magazine and started chatting to nobody, even though she knew she was a source of amusement. She put a wafer to her nose and relished its fresh aroma.

Did the prince enjoy this sight? What was he doing behind the walls?

Muriel had to be careful with her legs. She was starting to feel loose and happy, almost like she had been drinking too much wine. If she wasn't careful, she might accidentally show off something too ... too ...

Well ... women didn't normally wear drawers as men did.

Discipline would be very excellent here. If he saw that part of her ...

He might ...

See how she was pulsing and quivering and beginning to secrete certain fluids.

She would have wiped at herself, but she was being watched.

And damn ... Muriel wanted to dig under her jumps and chemise to find one of her breasts so she could do something about how her nipples were aching.

Well ... if she was being honest with herself, she would have thought that the prince would only be delighted if she began touching certain parts of her own body.

But all she did was talk and talk about absolutely nothing engaging while she ate, drank, and read.

When she was out of food, Muriel pushed her legs back into her stockings and tied them up. Then she put on her shoes and curtsied. "Thank you so much for your time, Your Highness."

***

Winter arrived with raw winds and, seemingly, a desire to take the life out of most things.

But Muriel still felt quite lively. Whatever fears she had before were forgotten, and easily so. Her world was full of treats, music, literature, and strange excitement. She smiled at nearly everyone.

Just after breakfast one morning, the butler went into the dining room with a fairly big box. "His Highness has sent men to the city to purchase a gift for Miss Devin."

Princess Arya smiled as she held her stole closer around her body. "How generous of my dear boy." She waved her fingers at Muriel. "Open it. Go on."

Muriel tried to keep her expression humble as she took the box and opened it. Inside, there was a pastel pink cloak with white fur lining. "It's so beautiful, almost too beautiful!"

"It will certainly keep you warm, won't it?" Princess Arya said very kindly. "It will serve you well when you're older. With age comes thinner skin, I'm afraid."

Age ...

Muriel's eyes saddened as her hands swept over the pretty cloak.

One day, she'd have to marry, and then she'd leave this place.

One day, she wouldn't be having as much fun as she was in the Vantrim Castle.

One day, she wouldn't be able to feel the prince's breath on her face.

***