The Most Beautiful Eyes Ch. 18

Muriel had to leave soon after her marriage's consummation, and she slept in her new bedroom. She woke up so early in the morning that she could barely see any sunlight. She washed herself with cool water. Then she used a metal comb dipped in just enough of a perfumed oil to give her hair a light sheen and a pleasant aroma. As her eyes lazily took in her reflection in a mirror with a gold plated frame, she wondered if Vidar slept well.

There was a confident moment where Muriel thought the sex might have eased his mind of his terrors, but her common sense returned to her. She couldn't easily treat such a problem, and certainly not with sex. Goodness, right before she learned of Vidar's condition first-hand, she had given into his erotic urges. He would likely have this problem for the rest of his life.

Muriel sighed and put her hair up into a braided bun, but she also let a few locks dangle so she could curl them.

Some maids would come soon to help her, but she didn't want to stress them out too much on their first day. She wasn't the princess' paid companion anymore. She was the Princess Consort of Norantha and Countess of Matas, bride of the castle's master. She had status and a certain amount of power now, and of course that meant she had the right to put out more demands.

And, obviously, money wasn't an issue anymore. She no longer served Princess Arya, and she received no more payments from her, but as Vidar's wife she was entitled to an allowance from him. Since he had a great amount of wealth, that meant her allowance would be very impressive.

Muriel didn't even feel bad about that. They were married, after all.

But she did promise to herself that she would never be extreme.

Eventually, the maids came. They helped her get dressed and put on her makeup. One maid even offered to help her put her stockings on. Muriel just told her to find her favorite blue garters as she put pointed her toes into a stocking.

In the family's favorite dining room, Muriel met her husband and mother-in-law. Breakfast was served. Savory pancakes with bits of bacon and cheese, sliced sausage, and toast with fruit.

It was a peaceful morning.

As for the late afternoon, she walked with Vidar around the keep, chatting with him about all sorts of things. Soon, she leaned into him and whispered something very wifely to him. Well, Vidar made a coughing noise and laced some of his fingers together with hers. Then he escorted her into the keep and up to his bedchamber.

They kissed and nuzzled, but just when Muriel felt her bodice being unpinned, she whispered to him, "Vidar? Weren't you supposed to put your seed inside me? You haven't done that yet."

The two hands on her body were suddenly tight and unmoving. Vidar's voice was almost cold against her cheek. "Muriel, I know that men want children, and men with wealth want them even more, but I'm deathly frightened of the thought."

"Why would you have such an intense fear of something so vital?" Muriel folded her arms and pouted, but she still kept close to Vidar.

"Darling ... you know much more than everyone else what I am. What if a child of mine is shaped the same way? How can you deliver a child with so many limbs?" His voice shrank. "You'd die. The child might also die."

Muriel's bosom chilled, but she ignored that feeling. "You not the only parent. I'm normal, am I not? What if a child of ours would be as perfect as any other average newborn?"

His warmth moved away.

Vidar ... actually stepped away from her!!

"It's a risk we can't afford," he said.

"But you must have a proper heir!" Muriel's good mood was slowly being poisoned, drip by drip. "When the people question us, what could we do without an heir?!"

Who was he to deny her anything? Who?

Vidar sat down in one of his armchairs near his fireplace. Both he and the seat's cushions sighed. His great head pointed down. "We could always hire a man to do what I'd rather not."

Her husband. That's who Vidar was. Her husband.

Muriel's head might as well have been a lit match. Her vision was blocked by so much fire and blood that she couldn't think to do much except stomp her feet, shake her fists, and scream, "What?! What!!"

Vidar bounced right back up out of his seat. One patchy hand reached out to her. "Muriel, calm yourself. I know this is upsetting, but there's no need to hurt our ears."

Muriel marched up to him and pointed at his big, ugly face, too furious to care about how unsettling he looked. "How dare you?! How can you even consider such a wretched thing for your wife?!"

She felt his breath shoot out like an impatient beast's. He pushed her hand away, but it the movement was quick enough to feel like a slap. "Here's another solution. I'll find a fair woman that's already expecting a child. We'll misrepresent you as pregnant and keep the true mother as a wet-nurse and eventually a nanny."

Never before could Muriel remember a time when she wanted to hit Prince Vidar so fiercely. She didn't do that, however. She only picked up her skirts, kicked his armchair, and loudly knocked it over. Vidar took a few clumsy steps away from her.

"I REFUSE TO TAKE ANOTHER'S CHILD!!" Muriel hollered.

"STOP IT!! YOU'RE ACTING LIKE A BRUTE OF A WOMAN!!"

Oh? So Vidar was capable of asserting himself? Too bad, though. Muriel didn't dwell on the new discovery. She just kept screaming at him.

Vidar went for her then. He didn't restrain himself. Not only did one hand cover mouth, but many more went to her body, on her arms, on her waist, even holding her legs together, as he carried her to the bed. Muriel tried to move, but she couldn't. Even though this sort of thing would normally disturb her to the point of blind panic, her anger overpowered her brain. All she could do was flinch and helplessly whine as her eyes fumed.

He pinned her down to the bed as he looked down at her, nearly snarling, but his small eyes still held their tenderness.

And for a moment, there was a little window for Muriel to stick her her head through, letting her breathe in a small amount of clarity instead of her smoky anger. There were thick curtains of arms all around her sight, long fleshy branches, with the source in the center, monstrous and ominous.

But before she had a chance to express any fear, Vidar put another hand over her eyes.

"There's no need to be so wild, Muriel. I'm not going to harm you. I'd never harm you."

The anger returned, although with a bit less violence. Muriel tried to utter something but his flesh blocked her. She smelled and tasted soap, skin, and a little sweat. Wanting to lash out, she trembled beneath the impervious bonds. Then, sadness blended in with the anger, and her own tears added to the flavors.

"Muriel ..."

The hand that had been on her mouth lifted. Then the backs of its fingers caressed her jaw and cheek.

"I'd never let anything harm you. Please ... don't forget that."

A familiar kiss ... yet it held a tart pain.

Muriel still whined, but as her husband's tongue filled her mouth and intruded upon her senses, her mood changed yet again. The muscles between her thighs pulsed. She wasn't even concerned about all the hands on her. If anything ...

If? Anything?

Touching her so sweetly ... yes ... these were all only ... parts of him ... extensions of his will ...

And he loved her ...

His licks were returned.

He wasn't covering her eyes anymore, but that didn't matter. Her eyes were shut.

Vidar wasn't quite holding her down, at least not with so many limbs. He was undressing her as carefully as one might a child. She felt the careful, gentle way his fingers moved. She heard the light fluttering of her clothing as it was taken away.

Then, when she felt air even on her most intimate parts ...

Overpowering, yes, but too loving to be frightening.

Legs, hips, thighs, waist, breasts, all were massaged and kneaded and overall coddled. It was so alien. There were moments where Muriel thought she might become afraid again, but then a certain muscle would be pressed in just the correct way, and she'd make a sound not unlike a protesting goat, and Vidar would mutter a husky and positive response. Her brain was realizing the potential she had never wanted to look into, and it was actually damn obvious. She should have understood this sooner, much sooner.

Both nipples were pinched as her back curved. Simultaneously, her pubic hair was covered with a palm, and the long fingers there stroked up and down her opening, rubbing against her clitoris. When her wrists were held down, Muriel resisted out of instinct, but she didn't tell Vidar to stop. She rather liked being unable to move during such racy moments. Everything felt so much nicer when she couldn't even stop it, and she almost had no choice but to feel everything.

"Muriel ... your body's so soft ..."

She purred as her hips swayed, rubbing her erect little nubbin into the hot flesh above. Faster and faster, and then Vidar let his fingertips press down, using tight, swirling movements to drive her to a state of spitting insanity. She howled out coarse words she would never use in polite company.

She was already dripping a little, and she outright demanded for a release.

Still playing around with her clitoris, Vidar almost forcefully held her legs straight up in the air. He penetrated her deeply, tightly, sharply. It was enough for her to scream and try escaping again, but she couldn't move much more than her head.

Despite Vidar's typically loving nature with her, this wasn't exactly lovemaking. This was fucking, rough and merciless fucking. If it was torture, she'd have wanted death, but it was the opposite. Her lower body was burning. Her clitoris was having its pleasure ripple into her belly and thighs while her tunnel was practically vibrating.

Damn, the head of his cock was even stroking that little spot inside that always produced a palpitating sort of delight.

His breath was more hurried than hers. She felt it on her ankle. He yelled out something raw.

This was ugly.

This was exactly what she needed.

Her body's climax was slow, unbearably slow. She was bizarrely quiet, unable to scream anymore. Her legs tensed against Vidar's clothing. Her fingers jerked and popped. Her nose was wiggling.

Perfectly ugly.

Muriel had no more energy, lifeless.

But Vidar pulled himself out.

Muriel sighed as he gave himself his own satisfaction. Maybe looking down at her nude body, held so carefully, helped him with that.

Muriel's temper had been cooled. She wasn't going to argue. She wasn't going to scream. She wasn't going to kick or throw anything.

But this wasn't done. She believed she could convince him to at least make an attempt at impregnating her. One day, certainly, he'd understand.

***

Out of respect for Muriel's feelings, Vidar had promised to discuss the issue with his mother privately.

In a way, Princess Arya had saved Vidar from making a potentially dangerous mistake. But she didn't take Muriel's side either.

Princess Arya never spoke to Muriel about the "pregnancy problem," but Muriel had learned of her advice through Vidar.

What Vidar had failed to properly understand was his position in under his father's eyes.

Crown Prince Emil hadn't produced any heirs of his own. He had tried, of course. He had a brief marriage with a foreign princess once, but that only lasted six months. Without any permission from the king, that princess had fled to her home country without much of an explanation. The marriage was annulled. The relations between the two nations had been tense a while after that, but eventually that issue was mostly forgotten. Crown Prince Emil had once tried to court a duke's proud daughter, but that prince eventually decided she wasn't worth his time, and he broke the relationship.

The current heir to the throne didn't have any children of his own.

If Vidar, the second prince, suddenly had a pregnant wife, then King Thorvaldo would take a great interest in her. He'd even send his most favored physicians and midwives to tend to the new mother.

A false pregnancy would be impossible to maintain without the king learning of it.

But, Muriel must become pregnant soon. This is what Princess Arya told Vidar. If Muriel were confirmed to be pregnant, then she would reach a level of importance in the eyes of the king. If any harm came to her while she was pregnant, then all the distrust would be placed on the Crown Prince. After all, he didn't have any children. He'd be an obvious suspect.

As long as Muriel was pregnant, Prince Emil wouldn't even hire a maid to put itching powder in her clothes.

All of this information meant that Muriel needed to be pregnant, physically, literally, pregnant.

Which meant ...

Muriel had wanted to pitch another fit, but she calmed herself down before she ended up tearing everything in her bedroom apart. It would have been quite childish of her to do so, anyway.

And so, without Muriel's consent, Vidar discreetly had someone search the city and the countryside for a candidate. He'd need to be clean and willing to keep a secret. He'd either have to be fair enough to resemble Muriel or dark enough to resemble Vidar before the curse. Vidar would have this man kept in a small cottage, and when he was needed he'd be secretly summoned to the castle. When he was finished with is work, he'd be sent back to the cottage, and he'd wait to see if he'd be needed again.

Dread was a daily emotion for Muriel. She would always be waiting for Vidar to whisper in her ear, announcing the candidate's arrival. She had been so upset about this that she wouldn't even go to his bedchamber at night. During the day, she'd focus so much on whatever task she was doing that she would hardly speak to anyone. If Princess Arya was offended by this, she didn't let Muriel know about it. It was possible that she understood Muriel's frustration and pitied her. Vidar was likely embarrassed.

Day after day after day after day after day after ...

Every single night, Muriel wondered if she'd face a stranger in her bed. Sometimes she woke up with surprise in her heart, almost disbelieving of the fact that she was still a loyal wife, that she was still in the right, free of anything tainted.

And when this ... thing ... when this thing would happen, Muriel knew she'd feel tainted.

When her father and sisters came for a visit, Muriel tried to be cheerful and affectionate, but all three noticed something was wrong. Only when she showed them her new bedroom, her fine collections of jewelry and clothing, and all the maids ready to serve her, did her family's worries disappear. Muriel was more than cared for, she was pampered. She was known as Her Royal Highness, Princess Consort Muriel Petran. She had brought great glory to her little family and to herself. Everything was fine.

Everything ... was fine.

Completely fine. Perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong at all!!

Before she laid down to sleep one night, Muriel burst into tears and nearly smothered herself as she clung to a pillow.

One night, a few days after Muriel's family had left the castle, it happened.

Muriel had been gazing out into the night, sitting on a bench outside, when Vidar approached and whispered in her ear, "Please go to your bedchamber, and send any servants far away. Doctor Bergson will escort our assistant to you soon."

Assistant ...

Muriel cringed, but she nodded.

He had actually called the man their assistant!!

When Muriel was alone in her bedchamber, staring at an oil lamp and sitting on her bed, she told herself that if this man did anything inexcusable then she'd beat him with a fire iron.

A knock on the door.

The doctor's voice. "Your Highness?"

"Yes," Muriel coldly said, "enter."

The door was opened. Doctor Bergson urged a new man into the room. Then the door was closed.

He was blonde, and he seemed to have only just become an adult. He was fairly short too. He bowed to Muriel and tried to say something, but his words were broken by his apparent nervousness.

Muriel interrupted him. "What are you thinking? Lock the door or else risk the most unpleasant consequences."

"Ah! Yes, Madam!" Damn, he sounded young too.

He locked the door and stood before her, nervously fiddling with the buttons on his coat.

Muriel pointed towards a set of room dividers. There was a lit candle behind them, along with some pornographic etchings on a stool. "Go behind those partitions, and prepare yourself the best you can. Try to keep quiet. I don't want to hear anything from you. When you're ready to deliver the seed, come to me, and don't dare to touch anything you don't need to."

Another bow. "Yes, Madam! Right away!" He ran to the spot behind the room dividers.

Muriel laid down and pulled her skirts above her knees. Then she curled a pillow behind her head and over her ears just in case she happened to hear something uncomfortable.

Some moments later, the man's voice penetrated the feathers in her pillow. "Madam?"

She spread her legs and closed her eyes. "Go on."

Death seemed to be a wonderful goal in the next minute or so, but Muriel gritted her teeth and endured.

When it was done, when the man had left the room, Muriel had to vomit.

The following morning, Muriel woke up but she stayed in bed for a while, looking up at the canopy ceiling and thinking that she needed to bathe, but she couldn't bring herself to get up. Despite the fact that she was physically clean, she felt filthy and hopelessly wrong.

A sin ... she had committed an unforgivable sin. That's what she believed.

But did that make Vidar just as sinful?

Her body was dense. Her mind was filmy.

Could she get away with staying in bed? Would her husband and mother-in-law let her be? Muriel wasn't certain, but she thought she could test those little questions.

Muriel let a maid serve her breakfast in bed, but when the meal was done she sent the maid away. Muriel didn't want any company. She sat up in bed and did some light reading, but then she gave up and tried to find more sleep. She didn't need to sleep, but it was the most pleasant thing to do.

She woke up to a rapping on her door.

Doctor Bergson's voice. "Your Highness, are you ill?"

"No, Sir. I'm not ill."

"Then why won't you come out?"

"I have no desire to leave this room."

A pause.

Then the doctor said, "Is there anything you need?"

"No, Sir."

"Very well, then. I'll leave you alone."

She heard his footsteps echoing away.

Muriel nuzzled a pillow and yawned.

She stayed in bed for the rest of the day.

***

The next morning, before breakfast, someone knocked on Muriel's bedroom door.

"Muriel? It's Vidar. We should have a chat."

At first, Muriel thought to refuse him, but she recognized that he had respectfully left her alone yesterday. Why shouldn't she give in to him?

Her muscles whined and ached as she sat up and put her feet into a pair of slippers. Rubbing one of her shoulders and stretching her neck, Muriel went to the door and unlocked it. She let Vidar step inside. His leather shoes seemed to have been hastily tied up.

As she closed and locked the door, she heard him ask, "Are you feeling well?"

"I don't know."

Two discolored fingers swept under her eyes and flicked her attention towards her bed. "Would you please sit down with me?"

Muriel nodded and yawned into the back of her hand.

When they were on the bed, Vidar on her left, Muriel leaned against him and closed her eyes as if she was sleepy, but she wasn't exactly. She was only tired of hating herself.

"My mother's been highly concerned for you, but she didn't want to cause you any more discomfort."

"I should apologize to her." Her voice sounded like it was forcing its way through a few layers of gauze.