Silence hung heavy in the back of the library, as Myrielle tried to determine her next move.

Run? But where to? And in this dress? She'd never be able to out-run him. Or maybe the window was an option? Should she jump? But what about the thirty-foot fall? Broken bones were a guarantee, and she'd end up being captured all the same.

As for Fredrick, his brain was busy processing that the woman he'd seen in the crowd didn't merely have an odd sense of fashion; she was mentally ill. And what would he do about it now? He tried his best to size up the situation, while at the same time trying to avoid catching a look at her exposed lower half. The last time he'd seen that much skin was during a summer of love at age sixteen. The peach orchard...the cool grass...the feeling that the entire universe had been made just for them...He fought off the memory of the butcher's daughter, remembering that she was married now and had seven kids.

He could feel his temperature rising in the presence of the madwoman's legs, so he distracted himself by focusing on the sacks that were scattered around her feet. He was utterly baffled by the presence of these sacks and what could possibly be contained inside them. So he kicked one and a turkey leg rolled out.

And he finally understood.

His curiosity and arousal were replaced with a desire to defend the rules of the land. It was an urge that made him feel important and useful, something his daily tasks seldom offered.

"It is my duty to inform you of the consequence of this act," he declared, his words taking on a merciless tone.

"Consequence?" she whispered, her voice unusually meek.

"Yes, very serious..." He was once more distracted by the scandalous view. "Pull your skirt down," he said, forcing his eyes towards ceiling.

She obeyed his command and clasped her hands together tightly. "You can look now."

He studied her with a stern eye, remembering what needed to be done. "There's a specific protocol that must be followed," he said, "and it begins with the summoning of the knight's guard."

She dropped to the floor. "But I was only helping my family!"

As he watched her go from meek to desperate, he remembered how the king had administered a flour quota, all so he could continue hoarding resources for himself. Didn't the people deserve to take something back? Perhaps, if there wasn't this thing called the law of the land...

He crossed his arms in forced conviction. "Family isn't an excuse for what clearly amounts to treason." He'd seen the knights spend hours being trained on staring down criminals and he tried to do the same, but in his quest to be just as merciless he twitched.

She immediately noticed his split-second reflex and sighed. "Emilia will probably take it the hardest," she said sadly. "She's only six but I swear she goes on and on about cherry tarts; every morning it's the same, tarts, tarts, tarts!" She shook her head emphatically, hoping it would help. "And the cured meats!" She gasped. "My god the cured meats...they were exactly the protein father could've used to get his strength back." She noticed Fredrick's hint of curiosity and burrowed her way deeper into the crack. "He has chronic pain," she explained. "It used to just be an ache here or there, but now he spends most of his day in bed." She caressed the nearby turkey leg. "He couldn't even make it to the festival today, which is a big reason why I was tasked with bringing this food home..."

Fredrick studied her, wondering if it was a lie. Even if he wasn't sure, there was a clear intensity in her eyes as she spoke, and he found it impossible to ignore. "Why didn't you just go home then?" he said, the protocol for treason temporarily off the table. "Why are you here?"

She seemed a bit shocked by the question. "Why? How often does a peasant get the chance to become a royal? I had no choice but to sacrifice the food I have now with the food I could be sharing with the villagers once I'm royalty."

Fredrick smirked. "You mean once you marry the prince?"

She nodded. "It's the only way to get things done; royalty is power."

Her last three words sunk into Fredrick's veins, reminding him that he would never have power or live a life of any significance. It was all rather bleak until he remembered the chance at power that was in front of him. "I shall go and fetch the knight's guard now."

To his surprise she didn't plead with him. "My father took ill once we lost the family business," she stated. "As everyone became poorer, no one needed quality clothing or my mother's unique designs." Anger swirled in her eyes. "He analyzed the numbers in every way possible but it didn't change a thing." She rose to her feet. "And it wasn't just us; the same thing happened to everyone, and all because of the kingdom's economic mismanagement." If her earlier offence was treason, then this last part seemed like the final nail in the coffin. "If I'm a traitor for wanting my family not to worry about food for a few days...then I guess I'm a traitor." She took slow breaths as she awaited his verdict, strangely calm despite the dire accusation.

Fredrick's earlier urge to wield the power of the law had waned, but his obligation to the king weighed him down. "I should go and summon those knights now..."

She sensed his lack of conviction and knew there was an opening. "Before you drop the guillotine," she said, holding her breath in tightly, "I have one request."

He nodded. "Go on."

"May I...at least eat the turkey leg?" Her smiled oozed a genuine love for all things braised, replacing any concerning for her imminent arrest.

"You want to do what?" He was completely caught off guard by the strange request, as none of the knights he'd shadowed had ever dealt with such a situation.

"It's just...I was so busy helping my family acquire food... that I personally had no chance to enjoy the kingdom's offerings." Her audacity rendered him speechless so she carried on. "And it's not as if these turkey legs can be otherwise re-purposed! I mean look at them...meat juice smeared on the floor, the soggy skin hanging off...it's ghastly, really, but on another level...absolutely yum! " She watched him closely, trying to detect any semblance of a smile.

Fredrick's twitching mouth teased at a smile, and he couldn't help but think of that moment when the king had been trapped in the vat of flour; the first thing he'd asked for was a cherry tart, a tart that had been meant for a peasant. He'd stolen that tart right out of a peasant's mouth, so perhaps this request would balance the scales? He conducted a few more moral acrobatics, since she'd stolen this food from the peasants too and none of his logic made sense.

"You may proceed," he said. "But only because it's too late for the kingdom to consume it. Now hurry."

She wasted no time in devouring her prize, with bits of meat dangling out of her mouth while she noisily chomped away. He tried to face the window to avoid the crude display, but something about her presence was more fascinating than anything he'd encountered in the castle.

"Most people avoid the tendons," she said. "You know what those are...right? The chewy bits?"

He nodded reluctantly. "Yes, I am aware."

"Are you also aware that those chewy bits are chocked full of nutrients?" She chewed with consistent fervor. "Just thought you'd like to know."

"Fascinating nutritional insight," he said, trying his best to hide another smile. Just as his resolve was truly starting to weaken, he heard the creaking sound of the library door opening.

Footsteps shuffled around in confusion. "Fredrick?" said the prince with a hint of annoyance.

Fredrick's eyes expanded in fear. "Not now," he whispered. "Not now..."

"Fredrick where are you?! They're forcing me to meet these wretched girls and I don't want to!"

Myrielle stood there frozen, knowing it was far too late for him to save her now.

Fredrick took a step towards the sound of the prince's voice. And then spun back around towards Myrielle. And then back to the door.

For nearly ten years, Fredrick had been a loyal servant of the king's court, performing every duty without fail. After all of that...was he really about to risk his loyalty? And all for the sake of a peasant?

He had approximately two and a half seconds to decide...

[WRITER COMMENTARY: Worlds have truly collided now, and unexpectedly, the servant Fredrick is taking on a fairly important role. But can a servant be hero when his allegiance is to a prince? A prince who's embarking on a quest to find a wife that may include Myrielle? This is what I meant when I said my version of fairy tales are messy, haha...hope you enjoy the hot mess that's coming up! :-) ]