Lap Pillow
A single, rough-hewn carriage bore the white bear of the North carved into its outer panels.
For a vehicle meant to carry nobility, it was hardly ornate—yet it was large and solidly built. Northerners, with their blunt and practical natures, preferred this kind of sturdy design over trailing frills and excess, whether they were aristocrats or not.
Darin stepped into the carriage on Kael's arm. Once the coachman confirmed his master was aboard, they set off at once. Already drained from listening to Emma's chatter since morning, Darin managed only a few words with Kael before sleep claimed her.
Hmm?
What is that?
Something on my chest…?
"…What are you doing, Kael?"
How long had she been asleep? Still half-adrift between dream and waking, she opened her eyes to find Kael gently stroking near the soft swell of her chest. Near her chest—or more precisely, near the fabric covering it.
"Your clothes had fallen into rather severe disarray."
"Ah—was I talking in my sleep? Thank you, Kael."
"Think nothing of it."
So that was all. He had only been straightening his mother's untidy appearance. Darin reproached herself for the impure thought that had flickered through her mind a moment before.
"Has the fatigue eased a little?"
"For now? I suppose I couldn't sleep deeply—it's been so long since I went outside. I must have been tense."
"Whenever you wish to rest, you may lie down without hesitation. It will take a full day to arrive."
"Still, I'd feel guilty just sleeping and leaving you alone. Would you like to rest a little too, Kael?"
"I'm fine. At some point I became able to go three days and nights without sleep and remain perfectly well."
"Do you think I don't know what kind of man you are? Even so, this isn't a battlefield. This is your home."
She did not fully grasp the caliber of a Hero's party, but she knew at least that it was a gathering of the strongest talents in the mortal world. The martial power of her son, who had served as their vanguard, must have been formidable indeed.
Even before he left on the expedition, his monstrous strength had been anything but ordinary. By now, she suspected, he might well have surpassed his own father. Even so, she wanted her son to let his guard down—at least in his mother's arms.
"There are no enemies of yours here. When you want to lie down, lie down. When you want to eat, eat."
"…If Mother says so."
Kael's gaze drifted naturally to the girl's thighs. She understood the meaning perfectly well.
"Mother, the seat is far too hard."
Anyone else hearing that would have wondered what nonsense he was spouting. How could a chair meant for nobility possibly be hard? But to Darin it was a familiar bit of sulking. Just as he always had, he wanted the loan of his mother's lap.
"But Kael—wanting your mother's lap pillow at your age is a little much, don't you think?"
"What does age have to do with it? The fact that I am Mother's son will never change."
"Well… th-that's true, but…"
Every time he expressed affection so freely, so without reserve, she could not stop the tips of her ears from burning. What son in the world doted on a parent like this?
I haven't given him a lap pillow since he came of age, have I?
Had he simply been away so long that he missed his mother's embrace? Darin thought a boy soon to marry ought not to behave this way—and yet she was not entirely unwilling. She decided to allow it.
"Only until you take a wife. If anyone saw this, they'd wonder what on earth a mother and son were doing."
Her son answered with only a faint smile, saying nothing. Lately he had taken more and more to responding with expressions alone rather than words, and Darin was left with the private conviction that she understood her son's thoughts less and less.
It's not as if my thighs will wear out.
She shifted to the innermost part of the seat and patted her thigh. Lie here. Kael, looking pleased, immediately moved to rest his head against that pale white leg—
"Mother, would you lift your skirt for me?"
"…What?"
"When I was little, you always let me lie against your bare skin."
"…Ah."
She understood what he meant. When he was very small, they had even bathed together. There was nothing especially strange about a child resting his head on a parent's bare thigh. But Darin had last done such a thing when Kael was still a preschooler.
And even if she had been born a commoner—was it really proper for a noblewoman to bare her skin out in the open?
"Kael, I don't think that's appropriate."
"Is it not allowed…?"
His tone was thick with disappointment. But even if the two of them found nothing wrong with it, Darin had no wish to do anything that would look improper to others.
"To lay you against my bare skin, I'd have to pull the skirt all the way up inside the dress…"
"This is a sealed chamber, Mother. It's soundproofed as well. The coachman won't know a thing about what we do."
It sounded like the kind of whisper lovers exchanged when stealing affection in a private room. In any case, the thought of baring the skin near her groin to her child after so many years clearly stirred a deep reluctance in her. Embarrassment flooded the lady's face.
"Well—your mother is still a noblewoman, after all…"
"Before you are a noblewoman, you are my mother, are you not?"
"…That's true, but you're being unusually persistent today. What's gotten into you?"
"Nothing of any great importance. I simply remembered how, when I had nightmares, feeling Mother's warmth would calm me."
"……"
The old memory stopped the woman's words cold in her throat. And still—wasn't this truly wrong? If she lifted the dress, the undergarments beneath the skirt would come into view. Was it right at all to grant her grown son access to that place?
"Hurry."
"W-wait. This is something that wouldn't look good to others…"
"Mother, let me say it once more. The carriage will not stop while we are underway, and no sound will escape."
"Even so…"
"And is it truly so important what strangers find indecent? From childhood I have known no one but Mother. Is it not the same for you? When we express our affection for each other, there is no need to concern ourselves with such trivial things."
"Even if no one can see, thinking about how others would take it still matters."
"It is the thinking of those who would look strangely upon this that is wrong. Mother has nothing to be ashamed of. So what does it matter?"
Helplessness was plain on Darin's face. Listening to her child, she almost believed that only the feelings of the two people sharing affection mattered—and then the thought returned that this was not morally right. And yet, after he had gone so far, how deeply would the boy be disappointed in her if she refused?
I don't want things to go sour with Kael when we've only just been reunited.
Ever since returning from the expedition, the boy had shown a fierce aversion to being refused. In the past he had merely looked hurt—but like the time he had slammed the door and stormed out, he now seemed to express genuine fury. Perhaps the war itself had roughened his temperament.
The viscountess did not want to face that side of her child again. More than anything in the world, Darin feared being hated by her children. Kael and Piel were the beings she loved above all others.
Softly, a flush of red began to rise across her youthful cheeks. The sight of her trembling hands carefully gathering up the dress was truly pitiful. At first Darin lifted the fabric slowly—then, deciding that hesitation itself was the more mortifying act, she pulled the dress up in one swift motion.
"I'll have to boast to Piel. My mother has the softest skin."
Those were the first words out of Kael's mouth as he pressed his head to her thigh. When her son's hair touched her bare skin, a faint shiver ran through the lady—but outwardly she pretended nothing was amiss.
"What good would boasting do? Piel is your own sister."
"I simply wanted to tell someone—anyone—about this joy."
"I'm grateful the words are pretty, but you must never tell Piel."
"Hahaha…"
Did Kael take it as a joke? The man's laughter filled the entire carriage. But she had been entirely serious.
"The same goes for your father. If he ever found out, he'd raise absolute hell."
"Well—does that matter anymore?"
Darin slowly stroked her son's snow-white hair, her expression puzzled. Was the boy truly asking because he didn't know? Even the servants were aware of how extreme his father was toward her. And what did he mean, it no longer mattered? Her husband would surely be returning soon.
"You know as well as I do that your father is a little… peculiar."
"Peculiar doesn't begin to cover it. Sometimes, whenever I look at my father…"
A portrait of his father took shape in the man's mind.
A beast who, the moment he returned, seized upon Mother like a ruffian at every opportunity.
A demon who had ruthlessly pierced the soft flesh of a young girl whose womanhood had not even fully ripened.
Kael nearly spat his condemnation of his father aloud—then checked himself. His mother was gazing at him with a look of sorrow. She knew he despised his father, but she hated it when he condemned the man outright.
Blood bound them by fate, she would say. Someday he too would come to accept his father.
But Kael met his mother's pity with a quiet sneer.
Just as he had said—there was no longer any need to hold back.