The Most Beautiful Eyes

The pretty standing mirror reflected a not so pretty image. Muriel Devin was pressing her fingertips to her face, examining her scratch marks with worry tightening her eyelids. Face powders and paints weren't going to do much for this. If she tried, the scratches would only stand out even more. Makeup might also worsen the injuries.

She looked down at her hands. All over their backs and palms, there were more irritated, red lines. Lie after lie rose in her thoughts as she tried to find a suitable one to give Doctor Bergson and Princess Arya. She wouldn't say that an animal attacked her. They'd look for the thing. She wouldn't say a servant or guard attacked her. An innocent person would be punished.

Eventually, Muriel decided she'd claim the marks were self-inflicted. She had powerful itches, and she scratched so forcefully, so deeply, that she bled. There. That was simple.

The truth wasn't worth the potential hassle. Besides, she wouldn't dare to embarrass Vidar.

Muriel rinsed her skin with water. It was the best treatment she could think of. She had no more of the salve the doctor had given her long ago.

When a maid came to check on Muriel, she touched her own mouth and wheezed out a shocked noise. "Oh, Miss! What happened to you?"

"It's nothing too disquieting," Muriel said as she leveled her voice. "I had unimaginable itches on my face and hands, and I was too austere."

"I'll find the doctor as soon as I can," the maid said as she hurried away. Muriel heard her mutter something about how, "They'll be so shaken up."

Muriel sighed and waited. She didn't wait very long. There was soon a knock on the door, and the doctor's voice called out to her.

"Come in," Muriel said.

Doctor Bergson entered with a bag of supplies in his hand. His eyes were flaring and his nostrils were thin. "What happened to you?"

Muriel put her hands together and gave him a soft expression. "I've scratched myself, Doctor. I'm terribly sorry to bother you over something so trivial."

He put his bag on her bed and opened it with a click. As his hand dipped inside the thing, he said, "Your explanation's difficult to believe."

"Dear, Good Doctor, there's no reason to be cynical."

He pulled out a new jar. "I'll ask this as delicately as I can. Were you anywhere near Prince Vidar as he slept?"

Muriel's belly seemed to disappear as her mind scanned itself for a reply. She stepped back and gripped the edge of a small table.

"This has been a problem for years, although infrequently so," Doctor Bergson said as he turned around and approached her. His face was much calmer. "I suggest that you leave His Highness' side when he falls asleep, even after you're married." His plain but still fashionable shoes were quick on the floor. When he was close, he put the jar in Muriel's hand. "He probably doesn't remember the attack last night. At most, he might have a vague memory of an emotion or a piece of a dream."

Muriel's body immediately felt lighter and free when she was told this. Even her shoulders relaxed. She hadn't offended her betrothed in any way.

But, there was a new cark in her mind. Poor Vidar! He had a disorder!

Barely aware of her own grip on the jar, Muriel looked up at the doctor's green eyes and asked, "Is this a medical issue?"

"I don't believe that's the proper phrase, exactly," he said as he crossed her arms. "I believe he's physically healthy, but this problem might be more closely related to the mind. When you face everyone, please cling to your excuse, no matter how flimsy. This is a personal topic for His Highness, and he wouldn't appreciate everyone in the world knowing about it."

"Does the princess know?"

He nodded. "Yes. She's known ever since it first began. In the tamest way, I'll explain your injuries to her. Perhaps His Highness took a nap on a bench and you were beside him. How's that?" After Muriel's nod, the doctor said, "I'll tell her that. As for the prince, he'll likely unlock the puzzle soon, but you could always tell him in private."

"Yes ... thank you, Doctor." Muriel curiously took the lid off of the jar in her hand. The salve inside smelled a bit stronger than the last batch. "I must say, I'm quite alleviated. I wondered if I had angered His Highness in some way."

He walked back to his bag. "Do you have any other injuries?"

"No, Sir."

He snapped the bag closed. "That's fine. Apply the salve once every morning and once before bed, and make sure you wash yourself before each application."

"Thank you, Sir."

***

Muriel's feet were slow as she walked down the hallways and stairs. Her fingers idly drew on the fur lining of a capelet on her shoulders. She was already thinking of her family. Even her sisters would soon beg her to leave this place once they saw her. The fact that her betrothed was already so intimidating looking would only make him appear that much more guilty.

The moment she stepped into the dining room, she had to remind herself not to react to the wide eyes and slackened lips of her family members ... and Vidar, who might not have been realized the truth at the time. Princess Arya rose from her chair at the table and gave a dramatic sigh. "Oh, poor dear Muriel."

Muriel's father got up too, but he was much louder. His chair loudly scraped against the floor as he slapped the table with both hands and cried out, "What in blazes happened to you?!"

Princess Arya gave Muriel's father a strained but forcefully good-humored expression. Her smile was crooked but in a subtle way. Her fingers laced together very tightly, as if she wanted to make wide gestures. "Mr. Devin, I understand your concern, to see your child in this state, how disturbing it is! But please calm yourself. Doctor Bergson has examined her. She's scratched herself too brutally, but she'll heal well. He doesn't believe there will be any scars."

Glen Devin's eyes narrowed, and his nose wrinkled, as he looked at the princess. His next words were crisp and disbelieving. "Oh, is that so, Your Highness?"

But the whole exchanged was interrupted by the pounding feet of Muriel's beloved. He was a blur at first, but he was soon over her, putting two hands on her cheeks and staring down at her face. Those small, quivering eyes, so horribly sunken, they darted all over her. The blade-like nose trembled almost like a tuning fork. The thin lips moved, and Muriel was once again trying to count his teeth, as he quietly spoke to her. "How could you do that? I don't believe it. You lied to the doctor. You must have."

Her eyelids twitched, and then they closed over her eyes, as Muriel said, "Everyone has their moments of foolishness, Dearest. Even you, even the king himself. As for me, I'm willing to bear all the censure in the world."

Gently, she tapped his overly long chin with the top of her head. Then she smiled and pulled his hands away.

Her eyes opened. She walked to the table. Everyone was still watching her, no doubt imagining the pain she must have felt. It was nice to have so many people care for her. There were people in the world with nobody to rely on, people who were often lonely or desperate, and Muriel was grateful to not be one of them. She smiled at her thoughts as she took her seat.

No matter what the little fairy's mark on her toe was for, Muriel knew she was blessed.

***

The three women's boots clacked on the pathway in the garden. Their scarfs were fluffy and soft around their mouths and noses. Their hands were in fur muffs with decorative bow-knots. Muriel was listening to Evelyn tell an anecdote about her own betrothed and his prissy mother. Yet, after a time, Sarana changed the mood by asking, "Muriel, have you assumed we've lost our sense of reality?"

Muriel stopped in her tracks. Her sisters stopped too. She turned a bit and put her eyes right at Sarana's scarf. "Why would you ask such a thing?" she asked her sister.

An eyebrow quirking up, Sarana said, "We're all aware. Your dear prince has abused you. All one needs to do is look at him to know what a monster he is. Come home with us. We'll help you find a better man."

Muriel literally turned her covered nose up like a snooty elite. "If I was being abused, I'd have ran away long ago."

"Muriel?"

The sisters hopped in place and gave the source of the noise wary looks.

Underneath her scarf, Muriel's lips formed a happy grin. Vidar's uneven form was standing near an entrance to the keep. He had a wool cap and his own scarf. When he stretched out an arm towards her, Muriel saw that he had homemade fingerless gloves, unusually long and comfy.

She walked over to him. Then one of her hands left her muff so she could put her palm on his. She was looking down at his nearly kaleidoscopic fingers as she said, "I'm so glad you called me. I was hoping to hear your voice soon."

"Is that so?" Another hand emerged and slid up and down her arm. So warm, so protective. Muriel couldn't connect them to the incident from last night, even though she should have.

"Certainly, my dear favorite." She lifted his hand to her cheek and pressed it close. "I love my sisters, but they can be exhausting. I needed your pacifying voice."

Vidar bent down and whispered to her, "Tonight, would you mind coming to my room? We must have a private discussion."

"Anything, Darling," Muriel said. "I'll do anything you ask."

"I'll assume you don't meant that in a strictly literal sense," Vidar said as he put a kiss just below her hairline. "Yet, I imagine your declaration is safe. I'm won't ask you to ... oh I don't know ... hop on one foot and recite the contents of a needlessly thick book."

And later that night, Muriel did just as Vidar asked.

She put on one of her easier outfits with jumps and went to his private quarters. One hand had a lamp and the other knocked on Vidar's bedroom door. "Vidar?"

"Yes? The door isn't locked. Come in."

Muriel went inside and smiled at the sight of Vidar sitting in an armchair near a glowing fireplace. A second armchair was beside him, seeming to wait on her. There was a little table between them. Muriel happily went to the empty armchair, sat down, and put her lamp on the table.

As she held her hands up in the heat, Vidar told her, "When I woke up this morning, I noticed something odd with some of my fingernails. There were small amounts of blood and even flesh under my nails. I thought I had scratched myself in my sleep."

Her voice chipper, Muriel said, "You understand now, don't you? I was beside you as you slept, but you had a terror of some kind, and you attacked me."

She heard his feet shuffle on the floor, and he said with a strained voice, "You didn't tell anyone?"

"Doctor Bergson figured it out. I was frightened until he explained the problem to me. I'm very content now." Muriel put her now warm hands in her lap and sighed as she watched the flames before her lick the night's air.

"Then, you've already forgiven me?"

"How can one forgive when there is nothing to forgive?" Muriel frowned as a crumb of gloom rolled around in her belly. "I wish I knew why you must suffer with this condition. It's so cruel."

Vidar rose; his armchair creaked from the loss of weight. He stepped in front of her, becoming a dark figure with a lit outline. Muriel watched him slide down to his knees. She wasn't looking up at his long face. She was looking at the unusually pointed tip of his chin.

"Regardless, I'm ashamed," he said.

Muriel let her fingertips caress his chin, then a bit higher and out of her vision. "Do you have these terrors because of your curse?"

She felt his jaw move as he replied. "No, I don't believe so, but I can't tell you what the true reason is. I don't know, exactly, but ... well ... well, I don't have proper credentials for this." Vidar put a hand on her wrist. As Muriel took her fingers away from his face, his grip tightened but not painfully so. "But that's not important. I've harmed you." His voice was very serious and deep. "I've sinned against you and myself."

Muriel closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and said, "If I claim a kiss serves as proper recompense, would you believe me?"

"No, but for the sake of my sanity I'll pretend to accept it."

***

Even though Muriel swore on her life that she didn't feel threatened by her betrothed, Glen Devin didn't buy it. Eventually, Vidar gave in and secretly told him the truth. Vidar occasionally had night terrors, and he wouldn't normally remember any of them. Keeping more intimate details locked away, Vidar used Doctor Bergson's bench nap story to explain why Muriel was near him as he slept. Then Vidar apologized and asked for Glen's forgiveness for daring to hurt his child. Some moments after that exchange, Doctor Bergson approached Glen and confirmed that the whole attack was unintentional, and Muriel was much better prepared to marry him with this knowledge at her feet.

Once Glen had a true understanding of the situation, he bowed before Prince Vidar and promised to keep this matter a secret. Then he told his older daughters, who didn't know the truth, to never speak of it again. Muriel embraced him for a long time when all this was done, loving how he petted her head and told her he was so proud of her.

When it was time for Muriel's family to leave, she gave them affectionate goodbyes and hoped snow wouldn't come as they traveled.

When the snow did come, Muriel was pleased to show that her scratches were fading very quickly. Sometimes, Vidar would trace the hateful lines with his fingertips and make a terrible face, not that his face wasn't terrible before. His horribly deeply set eyes would look wooden. His lips would nearly disappear as they thinned out from self-hatred. His nostrils would shake. During these moments, Muriel would try to remind him that she wasn't upset with him, and now she knew better than to put herself in danger. This wouldn't happen again.

When Vidar was in a more playful mood, he'd take Muriel away from Princess Arya's eyes and hand feed her treats. This was one of his favorite activities for some reason. He also liked to lick at any remains of food on her face and whisper something very, very carnal. Muriel felt almost as important as a goddess during these times, and she loved these moments.

One morning, Muriel helped Vidar build a snowman outside. Or rather, she packed snow with no idea of what to do while Vidar, with his many hands, completed the thing in a very short amount of time. Then Vidar sat beside her in the snow as they sipped hot chocolate and admired the results. Princess Arya approached then and handed them a dish of cookies, smiling all the while.

It was a wonderful time.

And after the snow melted away, when it was warmer, Vidar took Muriel's hand and led her away. He showed her a wall with a hidden vertical crack, and he pulled the wall aside. The passageway was snug, but they managed, and after a long walk, after careful movements down slopes and stairs, they reached a door that looked like a boulder. Vidar pushed it open, and Muriel heard the frothy waves beating against the shore. Then she saw the pale sand, the rushing water, and the cloudy sky.

It smelled like a holiday.

She grinned as her boots crunched and even sank in the sand. "Oh Vidar, it's so refreshing! I believe the air is cleansing our lungs!"

"Isn't it wonderful?" Vidar said in a reverent tone. "I can't remember the last time I stood here in the daylight. I forgot how blue the water is."

They spent some time crouched down, letting their fingers graze the water as it approached and retreated in a steady rhythm. Then they walked around, occasionally picking up seashells. When the clouds parted and the sunlight became too harsh for Muriel's delicate skin, Vidar took her hand again and led her back to the tunnel so they could return to the castle's keep.

The secrets were dwindling away. Muriel didn't think there were any mysteries left in this place.

Except ...

Muriel wasn't a doctor. She didn't know much. She did assume, however, that it wasn't normal for adults to have night terrors very often. She also assumed that something was wrong with Vidar, something other than his curse. This was apparently something that had gone on for years and years. If that was true, then Muriel thought it wasn't stress nor diet that caused the problem. Those things were almost never truly constant.

Muriel believed there was a trauma Vidar's past, something he didn't want to discuss. Maybe one day he'd change his mind and tell her about it. She hoped so. It might be good for him.

***

The Capital Season was blooming again.

The pale yellow townhouse in Padulan was opened up for its master, his mother, and his betrothed. Vidar was shy again, quietly wandering around the house's interior as if he'd never been inside before, but Muriel was certain that was false.

This year, they weren't invited to many engagements. It seemed that most people didn't want to have the infamously ugly Vidar ruin their moods with his appearance. It was actually depressing, but Princess Arya was determined to keep her little family happy.

"There's still fun to be had," she said as she adjusted a new aigrette on Muriel's head. Beforehand, Vidar had sent someone out shopping to replace the broken one from the incident with the falling suit of armor. "So keep your chin high, and don't despair."

Later on, Muriel decided it was almost a blessing to know that Vidar wouldn't be attending many balls. He had said that he'd refuse to dance. He'd much rather sit down and watch everyone else have a good time. Muriel thought the concept put her mind off in a compartment of tight frustration. Perhaps it wouldn't be so awful in practice, but ever since she was a child she had always dreamed of dancing with a love interest.

When Princess Arya suggested that they should have a walk in a shopping district, Vidar balked and pulled his cloak over his nose.

"What's the matter?" the princess asked as her arms crossed and her fingers touched her elbows. "Don't you want to see all the people on the streets and in the shops?"

"I ... yes. I do want to go out." Vidar looked down at one of his large knees. "But I don't know if ... if I'm ready for that."

"Don't leave us all alone," the princess said with a single tap of her shoe's toe against the hardwood floor. "Yes, you're hideous, but there isn't much to do about it. You're a prince, and if anyone dares to cause any trouble for you, then we'll have that foolish rascal dealt with."

Muriel put her hand on Vidar's shoulder then. Her other hand lightly swept over Vidar's bald head as if she was removing a bit of dust. "These people can't be more frightening than the Royal Court, can they?"

Vidar grumbled a little, but he soon said, "You're right. Both of you are right."

Muriel would have kissed him if Princess Arya wasn't watching.

***