Author's Note: A vaguely described non-consensual encounter will occur in this chapter. I'll try to keep it brief because I personally don't like the scene. No worries, though. Nobody's going to be killed nor permanently injured in that scene. But there will be a non-sexual scene where someone's going to be permanently injured, to say the least. But I'll keep that brief too. I'm not fond of graphically describing gore.
*****
The peace couldn't last forever.
Muriel knew the peace was dead the moment Vidar received the most frightening letter of all.
It was from King Thorvaldo.
The king was ill. He'd been feeling odd for weeks, but now he was weak in bed. His muscles ached. He was vomiting quite often. What an unfortunate man!!
Vidar knew he couldn't leave the man alone. Glen Devin and his daughters would have to be left behind while Vidar, his wife, and his mother would have to make an early appearance at the Royal Court. What if the king was truly dying?!
On the next morning, at the Royal Palace, the trio didn't immediately go to the throne room. They went up to the king's private quarters, and even into his grand bedchamber. It was an opulent place that was dripping with gold, marble, and silk. Within this luxurious room, there were grim and tense people. Maids, guards, and two doctors kept close so they could protect the nearly gray looking man bundled in his huge bed. The king hardly even opened his eyes to look at his guests. In fact, after the blurred slits peeked through his eyelids, he closed them immediately.
But he did speak, weakly, but he spoke. General things. "Thank you for coming to see me. I'm glad you came. You're such a loyal son." Those sorts of things.
Muriel pitied the man.
And soon, the king's voice grew lighter and more difficult to hear. Then he seemed to fall asleep. One of the doctors checked his breathing and his pulse. Then he said, "He needs his rest. I'm terribly sorry."
As the trio left the bedchamber, Muriel happened to look up at Vidar's cloth covered head. She couldn't see whatever expression was there, but she imagined he didn't look any prettier than normal. His nostrils were probably quivering. His uneven teeth were likely grinding into each other.
Muriel didn't know very much about Vidar's relationship with his father, but she imagined he didn't hate the man.
Well ... that's only what she imagined.
Quiet and uncertain, they walked down hallways and stairs. It wasn't a good time in their lives. If the king died, Prince Emil would take the throne, which wouldn't normally be a problem ... but ...
They had hoped the issue with Muriel's safety would've been solved by then.
The trio had been wandering around for fifteen minutes, and they had gone into the hall of mirrors, when the sudden pounding of many feet echoed around. Aside from the trio, there had only been a few servants in the hall. So when the noise came everyone was startled.
Muriel's fingers went to her throat as her breath chilled, leaving her feeling stripped and bare.
Armed soldiers, so many of them!! Their faces were cold and uncompromising. Their long guns and sheathed swords were too intimidating.
Princess Arya barked out to them, "What's the meaning of this?!"
Vidar put a hand on Muriel's shoulder. "Is this a performance?"
"Not quite."
Damn it.
Muriel's legs trembled under her skirts. Her knees touched each other.
Crown Prince Emil walked around from behind the large group of soldiers. His hands were behind his back. His grin was so wide that it almost reminded Muriel of Vidar, which was terribly confusing. One of his hands moved around to his front, and he held an envelope with a broken wax seal.
"We have an accusation against Princess Consort Muriel," he said so easily and so smoothly, as if he was relaxing on a beach and smoking a pipe.
"What sort of accusation?" Vidar growled out.
"Muriel seems to have fooled you, Dear Brother. She's a fairy, and she's already cursed someone, putting a mark on their toe. We'll have to check her mark and see if she's planning on cursing her loyal husband, since she so easily married into the royal family."
As if she wanted to rush to Prince Emil, Princess Arya tilted her torso forward, but her feet were still. Her eyes were like boiling hot chocolate splashed onto bare skin, scalding all they touched. "You're going to take her away right now?! No hearing?"
Prince Emil's eyebrow flicked up, and then he said, "I have no choice. I'm the regent now that Father's ill. I have to uphold the law and protect each citizen to the best of my abilities." His free hand also moved from behind his back, and then he snapped his fingers. "Seize her, please."
Muriel was afraid.
Terribly afraid.
Yes, she was afraid of whatever disgusting thing Prince Emil had in mind for her.
But she was also afraid for Vidar.
Vidar ... he was a strong, capable being with many hands ...
But all these soldiers could easily overpower him, even slice off his arms one by one if they put their minds to it.
Her heart felt like it had stopped. Time slowed down in her mind as she watched Vidar angrily throw his arms out and move as if he was about to attack everyone.
No.
No!
"Vidar!!" Muriel's fingernails bit at his cloak as she urged him back. The mask on his face flapped as he turned to look down at her. "If you're arrested, that will be one less ally for me outside. You won't be able to help me in a cell!!"
But Vidar still moved in front of her, his many limbs spreading out, casting a shadow onto her. It was grotesque, but her heart still bled. "You'll die in vain, Vidar!!" Muriel screamed as she rushed around him. "Don't betray me this way!!"
Submissive, afraid, but still angry, Muriel removed a bracelet of hers and put it in a pocket. Then she held her wrists out. "Arrest me if you must. I'm no fairy, and a true investigation will prove this." But, with Crown Prince Emil in charge, she doubted there would be a true investigation. He wasn't exactly a just man.
She heard Princess Arya say, "Come with me Vidar. Interfering here will only harm yourself and put your child in danger."
"Think of Artair," Muriel said. Then she said to the soldiers, "What's keeping you? Arrest me."
A soldier approached. He was holding a pair of dark manacles. Once those manacles were closed on her delicate wrists, Muriel felt their harsh weight.
She looked back at Vidar and put on what she hoped was her most beautiful smile. "Fret not, Dearest. This is only a misunderstanding. I'll be home soon."
Princess Arya pinched and clawed at Vidar's cloak. There was something highly determined in her face. "Come with me, Boy! Come with me right now! If you want her set free then you'd better come!"
"Go on, Vidar," Muriel said, hoping he'd give in. "This is in our best interests. Don't put yourself at the mercy of all these blades over this silly thing."
Only a chip of Muriel's fear melted away as she felt the loss of Vidar's presence.
***
Muriel had expected an official detective to appear and test her blood. She didn't know everything about fairies, but apparently if one kept a fairy's blood inside a wooden vessel with a wooden lid for at least ten minutes then when the lid was removed there would be a green fairy stone instead of red blood.
That didn't happen.
She was immediately taken out of the Royal Palace and into a stern carriage. The carriage took her to a brick building that had almost no windows. There were no gardens, no bright colors, nothing pleasant about the place to be seen. Inside, there was a busy, stuffy office where men in uniforms were looking over paperwork or taking other people in manacles up a set of stairs, and that's where Muriel was taken. Since her skirts were wide, and the stairs weren't very grand at all, the soldiers had to turn her sideways and help her walk up.
Muriel was put in a cell that had brick walls, a bench at one end of the room, and a wooden beam in the center. Soldiers put her back against that beam. Then they unlocked and removed her manacles. They put her wrists behind the beam and put the manacles back on. A similar pair of manacles were put around her ankles, but the chain between the cuffs was tightly kept around the beam. She could stand, but she couldn't move her feet more than an inch or so.
And, stupidly, she thought to herself, "With my skirts so close to the beam, the silhouette seems phallic."
A woman in jewels and silks, with a proud set of side hoops, and fine cosmetics on her face.
She was in this raw, hateful cell, clashing with everything.
The soldiers all left.
Muriel heard them lock the door.
But ...
Her toes squeezed together in her silk and wooden shoes. Her jaw tightened, her teeth meshing together, her gums aching from it.
Crown Prince Emil didn't leave with the soldiers.
Standard procedure was to have a detective interrogate her.
Muriel took a hard breath into her lungs and she closed her eyes. She didn't want to see his self-satisfied grin. She didn't want to see the malice in his eyes. She didn't want to see any part of him.
The floor was made of old wooden planks, and the prince's shoes clicked on that floor as he approached. Each little noise tapped against Muriel's heart and made her feel a small jerk of nausea.
And then she smelled his sugary cologne, felt his unwanted warmth. She knew he was standing before her.
"All of your problems could be solved very easily."
He sounded barely patient, as if he was trying to explain something to a tenacious child.
