I Love You, My Cursed Prince

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 hɨps. "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.