I Love You, My Cursed Prince

Even though it was cold when Muriel was in the Empty Room, sitting on a thoughtfully placed stool near the roaring fireplace, she got a wild idea.

She had temporarily avoided the covered tray of snacks on the table behind her. She was too focused on cuddling up to the fire. Still, the cold didn't stop her from thinking she could do something that could leave her partially exposed.

Muriel opened up her new pink cloak, but only enough to show off her clothed ċhėst and belly. She wasn't talking to herself as she normally would. She was thinking too much.

Prince Vidar was peeking at her, as usual. She knew. She didn't see him, didn't know where his peephole was, but he was somewhere around. What was he thinking now?

She had on a bodice closed in the center by pins, no stomacher, and there wasn't a robe. There was no overskirt. It would be quite simple to give the prince a new thing to look at.

Her fingers rose to the kerchief kept around her neckline, and she tugged the pins away. She put those pins in her cloak's fabric for safekeeping. Then she slid her kerchief away and folded it into a little square. She put that square in her ŀȧp.

Muriel's flesh was becoming rosier and rosier, and not only because of the chilly air.

She went for the pins in her bodice.

One. Two. Three. Four.

There! She put those pins in her cloak and opened the bodice up.

There wasn't anything under her clothes that would shock her, but she imagined that the prince was thrilled to see a woman's corset and chemise. Her supported and lifted bosom might also catch his interest.

It was cold ... but there was a fire, and Muriel was flaring up. Her breath rushed in and out as she wondered if the prince felt the same. Was he fevered? Was his ċhėst heaving?

Was he hoping for more?

But that would be too much.

Trembling a little, she reached into her cloak's hood and pulled out a thick lock of her hair. She combed this bit of hair with her fingers was she hummed a soft song.

Her heart was so light. She was the center of attention and it didn't feel dangerous at all.

Muriel suddenly remembered there were snacks. She smiled and picked up her kerchief. She tied it around her wrist. The folding had been a waste, too bad, but she wasn't upset. She rose and turned to get the tray. This day's snacks was a small pyramid of gingerbread squares.

Facing the fire again, Muriel took a bite of gingerbread and thought of happy memories, what few she had. Before her father had financial difficulties, gingerbread had been a regular yearly treat.

In time, Muriel was full. She closed and pinned her bodice. Then she put her kerchief back over her neckline and pinned that too. She curtsied and gave her thanks.