After School

2.30 William I

September 2, 1246

"You look much finer, my lady," Prince William commented as he smirked at the Witch. "More womanly."

She hesitantly nodded, as she stood with a poised grace. Her hands were clasped together and she wore a weary expression as if she was slightly uncertain about her new attire. William scoffed and traced his hands over the black linen gown that entangled her thin frame. Beautiful, he thought, rubbing the fresh white collar of her dress between his stubby thumbs. The Prince had ordered his maids and servants to dress the newcomer, in the spirit of her arrival to the castle. William did not regret it a bit, as the unsmeared Witch pleased his icy green eyes.

William slid his hands around her narrow waist and pulled her to his embellished chest, sniffing her fragrant hair. Her scent was intoxicating. The Prince had never met a witch, man or woman, so he assumed that they all smelled like grit from the cattle farm. However, this witch smelt entirely different. When he had met her the other day, she surprisingly consisted of a scent that represented fresh timber, like the aroma of a damp forest after the rain. Now that she was washed, her hair had an aroma similar to fresh-scented pine and honey.

"Do you enjoy this new attire?" he asked, as he brushed the wispy strands of hair that dangled above her sunken eyes. Her hair was not a chaotic nest anymore, rather, it was tied back in a slick bun. Her tied back hair revealed features of her face William had not noticed before. She had a nose that was big and crooked, like the menacing women in that fresco painting and hollow cheeks that symbolized her malnourishment and lack of wealth.

"Indeed. It is quite pleasant," she replied, discreetly squirming under his strong grip. "Thank you for dressing and bathing me, William Stevenson."

The Prince grinned as his palms travelled to her featureless chest and rested there. He scrutinized her porcelain skin that was ashen and soft, from having just taken a bath. Her recessed cheeks inflated ever so slightly with every breath and her purplish onyx eyes blazed brightly now that the dirt surrounding it had been washed off. His free hand traced the outline of her lips that were once leathery and chapped, were now pink and soft.

Just as his hands were sliding down her back and towards the bosom of her charcoal dress, the Witch unstrangled herself from the Prince's grip. "Thank you very much, William Stevenson. Where is Wilson Stevenson? Or would you rather we keep this second curse a secret?" she asked, as her pointed black boots staggered backwards.

William pursed his lips and glanced around the illuminated hallway of the castle, ensuring that not a soul could hear their conversation. "This shall remain a secret between the two of us. If I truly want to take over the throne, my brother cannot know. I shall lie to him and tell him that I was unsuccessful in finding you, which should keep him distracted for a couple of weeks. In the meantime, you shall remain hidden in one of the finest bedrooms of this castle," he explained, diligently crossing his gloved hands behind his back.

"What is the next step, William Stevenson?" she asked, blinked at him with eyes that were devoid of expression. Her lips formed a thin line on her face, and William imagined the beauty of her smile that he hoped to see one day. Although, he could not ignore the tugging feeling at his heart, telling him that the Witch had not smiled for centuries, and would not for eight centuries more.

"That is the exact question I have for you, my lady," he remarked eloquently. His jade eyes shone at her, with glints of eagerness. "Now that I have gifted you with my riches, tell me about this curse, and what I have to fulfill to receive an heir. I hope it will not take long, my lady."

The Witch nodded firmly, her coarse fingers intertwined. "I suggest we go somewhere discreet, for it would be treason if someone heard us," she solemnly stated.