All eyes were on Myrielle, waiting for her to answer the million-coin question.

Did she love him?

Only minutes before, Fredrick's hopes had been shattered when he'd learned that the kingdom's only chance out of debt was to keep Myrielle in the contest. Now he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope, knowing that if Myrielle spoke from her heart she would no longer be able to continue this spectacle. The only thing he wasn't sure about was whether or not she would do it.

Recent memories flashed before Myrielle's eyes. They included every moment she'd spent with Fredrick since their first strange meeting in the academy. He'd always seen her for who she was, and not only had it always been enough, but it had also been fun, addictive...and lately quite romantic too.

And then there was the prince. The prince had only ever seen Myrielle as a source of mockery and trash, so why would she lie just to share a life with him? She instantly remembered what would happen for the kingdom if she didn't.

"We need an answer," said Gianni "Lovesick and a traitor?" He frowned. "Or a winner who saves the kingdom from its heavy financial burden?" His murderous clown-grin returned.

Myrielle took a calming breath before turning to face Fredrick. His pleading eyes were practically oozing out of his head. "Don't do it!" he whispered.

She clutched her stomach but the churning waves persisted. "Love?" she said softly.

With all the strength she could manage, she pulled her stare away from Fredrick's oozing eyes. And then, impossibly...she matched Gianni's clown-grin with a psycho smile of her own. "You're asking me if I'm in love with a servant?" She then proceeded to cackle, as the last bits of Fredrick heart were trampled on, set on fire and thrown off a cliff.

The prince was in no way convinced by her callous reaction. "Love, yes, that's exactly what we're asking you. And, if it isn't true, how do you explain what the beast-girl saw?" He gestured to Fredrick's hands. "And what's slathered all over his fingers?"

Myrielle's clown-grin never wavered, as she seemed to have a way of committing herself wholly to manipulative tactics when needed. "I never actually said we didn't kiss—and we did, for which I deeply apologize." She put the clown-grin on pause to clasp her hands together innocently. "But the reality is...I didn't have much of a choice."

The prince seemed confused. "So you're saying that...he forced himself upon you?" He stepped towards Fredrick like he was suddenly defending her honor, the honor of a woman he openly despised.

Myrielle stepped between them and waved her hands in the air. "I wasn't forced!" she cried. The prince put his supposed macho display on hold. "I wasn't forced but at the same time...I was compelled in a way that left me with very little choice."

Gianni ability to record every line of gossip was as dedicated as it was speedy. He flipped to the next page and underlined the words 'Peasant Conundrum'.

The prince's face was inches from Fredrick's now, an intended sign of intimidation that actually made it look like they might kiss. "Tell me what this monster did to you," he said.

"It wasn't what he did but rather who he is." Despite Fredrick's heartbreak he was suddenly intrigued. "Fredrick's been a servant now for what, ten years?"

The king nodded. "Ten years and nearly four thousand nightly baths," he said firmly.

"Ten years without the touch of a woman?" she said shaking her head. Fredrick's glimmer of hope turned to raw humiliation. "Who could live like that?" She shuddered. "I pitied him for a long time, and when I noticed that he was so captivated by me...could I really deny him the chance at some excitement?" She shook her head. "It just seemed cruel not to make his lowly life a little better."

The prince's face was still inches away from Fredrick's, but instead of a possible kiss he burst into laughter. "I almost forgot you never cozy up to girls!"

As the king and queen joined in with the laughter, it was a miracle that Fredrick avoided dissolving into a puddle and leaking through the floor one shame-drop at a time. It was also the second time that night someone had cackled in his face; perhaps he was learning to adapt to feeling nothing.

As the prince's laughter faded, a layer of rage from being played like a fool still remained. He locked his burning eyes on Myrielle. "It's not your job to make his life less sad; that's what brothels are for."

She bowed her head in shame. "It's true, your highness; I overstepped the bounds and it will never happen again."

The prince weighed her words in his narcissistic head, trying to determine if devotion lied beneath. "So what you're saying is...if you stay in this contest, you will dedicate your life to ensuring my satisfaction and happiness?"

Her reaction was subtle, but to anyone watching closely, it appeared as if she had swallowed an extremely unpleasant burp. Like a 'rotten hard-boiled egg' type of burp. "Mmmhmm," she said, struggling not to use the entire royal hall as her vomitorium. "I've learned my lesson," she affirmed, "and believe me I know where my bread is buttered."

All of a sudden the king was on full alert. "Butter? Did someone say butter?"

Gianni clapped his hands to get his majesty's mind off lard. "Then it's settled! You will remain in the contest and adhere to the results, but no matter what...you will not share the outcome with anyone in advance."

She nodded obediently. "My lips are sealed."

"Technically they're as loose as a prostitute's," he said, snapping his beloved book shut. "But we'll leave that detail out of the re-enactment."

The king hopped off his throne. "Alright then Fredrick, time for my bath!" He had a sudden realization. "Only you can't give me my bath, as you're a traitor to our entire kingdom..."

The prince stood next to his father to form a wall of intimidation, but really it was more of a 'rotund grease ball and man-boy tag-team' situation.

The prince clucked his tongue in disappointment. "He was a traitor, he truly was...and, as his penance, tonight he will begin his next assignment called 'cleaning out the dungeons until you die.'"

The king slapped the prince's shoulder proudly. "That's a catchy title!"

The prince grinned broadly like a proud little boy. "Why thank you, father!" A second later he noticed Fredrick bowing his head in submission. "And you'll no longer earn your discretionary coin," the prince added. "In case that wasn't clear."

Fredrick's lowered head shot up into the air. "But your highness!"

"But what?" he said casually. "Betray the kingdom, betray the family who needed you most."

As the prince spoke those soulless words, Myrielle clutched her stomach in revolting guilt, only now realizing how much hurt was at the other end of saving the kingdom from its debt.

Gianni gestured to Fairy Godmother. "Please escort the rogue one back to the tower; I have a feeling she might need some back-up from those vengeful little peasants."

Fairy Godmother nodded and led her away.

The prince followed suit by gesturing to the guards. "Send the traitor to the dungeons immediately."

With those final instructions, Myrielle and Fredrick left the royal hall side-by-side, faced with the very real prospect of never crossing paths again...

***

The damp stony walls of the dungeon were the place Fredrick now called home. A guard shoved him into one of the empty cells but left it open. "Welcome to your room," he said flatly. By 'room' he was referring to the wood-slatted cot and tiny window caged by iron bars.

Fredrick was in too much shock to process his new surroundings, so when the guard brought over a mop and bucket he was relieved to have a labor-rich distraction.

He began by cleaning his own cell first, but he quickly learned that no matter how thoroughly he scrubbed down the bumpy stone floors, trickles of dirty water kept finding their way through the cracks. He crouched down and tried to wipe each stone with a rag, but before he could make any progress a moonlit shadow inched towards him.

"Was it worth it?" said the voice.

It was the last thing Fredrick needed right now, but there was really no escaping it so he rose to face the shadow.

The prince stood there sneering as he awaited his response. "I never had the chance to apologize," Fredrick said. "I made a terrible mistake and I'm incredibly sorry."

The prince absorbed the apology with a bitter laugh. "Ten years...for ten years I believed you were a trusted ally."

"And I was!" Fredrick insisted.

"A trusted ally who goes behind my back?" He snorted. "Save the tall tales for your prisoner friends."

"If you're going to hit me I completely understand," said Fredrick. "I just hope you'll do it quickly as a sign of mercy."

The prince was taken aback by the aggression put upon him. Hit him? He'd never hit someone in his life, nor held a sword, nor defended the land...but perhaps a solid blow would be a sign of manliness? He balled his hand into a fist. "Alright then traitor, prepare for what's coming..."

Fredrick glanced at the prince's fist and shook his head. "You need to keep your thumb outside of the fist, otherwise it could break."

"I know that!" he said defensively. He adjusted his fist and slowly pulled it back, readying for the blow of maximum impact. His strange preparation involved closing his eyes in nervousness, while Fredrick stood patiently waiting for the punch.

After a few seconds the prince opened his eyes and took a breath. "I will spare you...for now, and you're very fortunate for that."

Fredrick nodded solemnly. "I am grateful, your highness."

The prince sauntered off like he was large and in charge. "You better be grateful, traitor, you're lucky to be alive!"

Fredrick crouched down and returned to his task of wiping down the water from each stone. If he was lucky to be alive then fate was as cruel as ever, with all his hopes and dreams now shattered in a single night...

[WRITER COMMENTARY: Poor Fredrick, what more can I say, and is it strange that he now finds himself slaving away like Cinderella? Hmm... ;-). And if you're mad at Myrielle for what she did, new chapters coming soon okay? Thanks for reading!]