I Love You, My Cursed Prince

One of Vidar's many hands clasped her right shoulder. Her bȧrė flesh greedily soaked up his warmth. "Muriel, are you cold? I'd offer my cloak, but I don't think you'd react well to what's underneath."

She forced out a hollow version of a giggle. "I'll do whatever you think is best." Even if it made her want to close her eyes.

His hand left her. "You may rest on my bed, if it wouldn't bother you."

Ah, a blanket? That would be nice. Muriel nodded and went to climb into the bed while Vidar lit another oil lamp on a nightstand. It was an impressively big bed. She imagined that three copies of Vidar could rest well in it.

Muriel lifted up a portion of a silk lined blanket and snuggled underneath it. Then she pushed herself into a kneeling position with the blanket shrouding her from behind. And then she turned her body around, letting her front be covered and her back and buŧŧȯċks be revealed.

"There's a bit of swelling on my back and my side, on my right," she said as she held the blanket closer to her brėȧsts, wishing she could wrap all of herself up.

The mattress constricted and whɨnėd as Vidar's great weight sunk down near her. Muriel closed her eyes as she waited.

Cold!!

Then warm.

His hands applied the salve so gently at first, but then he used a little more pressure. It was a blazing, fuzzy feeling. It made Muriel's toes press into her buŧŧȯċks and her voice wildly gurgle out.

"Have I harmed you?" There was pure concern in that question.

"Oh no!! It was heavenly!!" One of her hands clawed at the blanket's lining.

"But ... perhaps it's not good to massage this tender area. I once heard the doctor mention that one should wait three days to massage blunt trauma." He removed his hand. "Show me another injury."

Muriel actually pouted and lowered her head. She turned her body so that her right side faced the prince. She covered most of her body, but she held out her right arm. "Can you see the swelling there?"

"Yes, a moment please."

"Are there any more?" Vidar asked when he was finished.

Muriel tensed a little as she took her arm back under the blanket. "Yes, on my ... on my leg and thɨġh."

"Oh!!" That was a fairly alarmed syllable.

Was he feeling shy too?

Well ... he didn't look sweet but he certainly had sweetness in him, the great, gentle thing!!

Muriel gathered up a bit more of the blanket. Then she lied down on her belly and stretched her legs out. From her buŧŧȯċks to her shoulders, she was covered. Her legs were out in the open. Her brėȧsts were pressing into the mattress, and that was uncomfortable, but she was able to make it easier by folding her arms ahead of her face.

"My right leg and thɨġh," she informed, "particularly in the back."

"Ye ... yes."

His large hand could have spanned near all of her thɨġh, but he only used his fingertips to slather the ointment onto her body. Her toes and feet curled as her muscles were easily thawed. She hummed, whɨnėd, and licked her teeth.

"Are you in any more pain?"

Muriel nearly purred as she said, "No, I'm fine."

The jar's lid was clicked into place. Then Muriel heard the jar's bottom being lightly tapped onto the nightstand. Yet his hand remained, gently sliding up and down the length of the limb. She didn't mind.