The Unfilial Daughter
"We've finished all preparations for departure, my lady."
"Good. Well done."
Piel answered the coachman's report with a light reply. As she set out, the white hair that fell past her waist drifted softly in the air, and a small escort of elite guards fell in behind her.
She had committed an impropriety no child should ever inflict upon a mother. Three months had passed since then, and Piel had reached a firm conclusion: remaining at her mother's side would do neither of them any good.
It was a truth she had recognized again and again. That wretched girl—herself—had wounded her mother so deeply, yet still showed not the slightest sign of reform. Whenever she spent time alone with her, or caught the citrus scent that tickled her nose, her reason still clouded over.
At this rate, she might truly end up raping her mother. A woman who had already wept rivers of tears over nothing more than her daughter's cruel prank—what would become of her if she were forced by her own flesh and blood? The Viscountess, for whom her children were everything, might well hang herself.
Leaving her beloved parents' side tormented Piel to the point of madness. But no other choice existed.
"I hope she stays healthy..."
"You could always send the occasional letter of greeting, couldn't you?"
"That's true."
Piel was bound for the Callisto Marquisate, the house of her betrothed. The young master of Callisto was a match her mother Darin had arranged, and they had been childhood friends as well. Piel did not particularly regard him as a romantic interest, but the young master was thoroughly smitten with her. Her treatment there would only be good—never bad.
In fact, compared to the Bayorn Viscounty, she was likely to receive even more lavish hospitality. Of course, even while away, she must not forget that she was the Bayorn family's living weapon. Should crisis ever befall the house, she intended to return.
Perhaps I've already delayed too long.
She had long since reached marriageable age; it would not have been strange if she had been living at the Marquisate already. If only she had left sooner, she never would have wounded her mother—and the regret of it cut deep. The three months she had spent hesitating, unable to go, had also been born of lingering attachment to her mother, which only multiplied such thoughts.
At the back gate of the Bayorn estate stood a carriage that was not ornate, but rough and sturdy in appearance. To reach the Marquisate, they would have to ride without rest for a full week.
In truth, Piel—who stood at the pinnacle of mages—had no real need for a carriage. A single cast of warp magic would deliver her to the Marquisate in an instant.
She merely wanted time to settle her feelings toward her mother. She wanted to look once more around her hometown of Bayorn, and to savor her memories with her mother so that no regrets would remain.
The weather is rather fine today.
The blizzards that had held such sway until recently seemed to have lost their force; the wind against her skin was quite warm. Piel passed the orange orchard where she had spent time with her mother and headed for the back gate.
Come to think of it, what is that idiot who used to pick oranges with me up to?
She had no idea what he was doing out on campaign, but she could only hope her brother would come to his senses and strike out on his own. If he ever failed to restrain his filthy desires and tried to violate their mother, brother or not, she would not let him off.
I'm sorry, Mother.
Looking at the oranges that had grown so perfectly ripe, she recalled the figure of the woman who had scattered tears in the bath. She was an unfilial daughter who, despite receiving devoted care, had only wounded her mother and was now walking away. Even as Piel moved toward the carriage, she could not bring herself to lift her head.
She had twisted her nipples and kissed her, claiming it was twisted jealousy toward their father—making every excuse she could. That she had acted out because she was hurt that her mother's affection for her had cooled.
Fortunately, her mother had taken it as a daughter's tantrum and understood. But the moment she had been helplessly dragged about by her own flesh and blood had clearly left a wound.
What am I to do...
Today of all days, tears threatened to fall like some little girl's. Whether man or woman, a Bayorn barbarian should never show such weakness—yet recalling a mother who feared her own daughter made it nearly impossible to endure.
Though she never showed it outwardly, every time their bodies touched her mother would gasp and flinch, and in the amber eyes that looked upon her daughter, tremors would often arise. It was a clear distance that had not existed before. It pained Piel that the vermilion-haired girl had been wounded, but it tormented her even more that the space between mother and daughter had grown.
Fucking bitch...
Piel ground curses against herself between her teeth and shut her mouth. She did not even have the right to shed tears. She must not turn away from this anguish and despair either.
Was it not she herself—and no one else—who had defiled the sincere love directed at her daughter? Far from repaying it by becoming a filial child, she had only brought wounds and disgrace. A rotten girl like her was right to leave the nest.
From this day forward, she would content herself with living under the same sky, and in the same time, as her mother. And if they could occasionally exchange letters, that would be enough. If she worked at not thinking of her mother, she might be able to drive out the devil that had sprouted in her heart.
Lingering before the orange trees would only increase her longing and attachment. Like someone being chased, Piel broke into a quick stride, burst through the back gate, and headed for the carriage.
"Let's go."
The servants cleared the path for their lady. The small elite guard opened the carriage door. And just as Piel was about to climb the steps—
"...Piel."
Mixed into the now-gentle wind came a woman's voice.
"Mother?"
Why was this woman here? She had known today was the day for an outing with Father. She had even confirmed it before departing...
"How on earth did you get here?"
"Arvin told me."
Arvin was an elderly coachman of the Bayorn household—and the very man who would drive the carriage Piel was about to board. She had asked him to keep it secret, but in the end, even he could not abandon his loyalty to her mother.
"Piel."
The voice calling her daughter was softer and gentler than ever before. Yet because it was so low as to be barely audible, it also sounded pitiful.
Piel turned and looked down at her mother. Beneath the neatly tied vermilion hair, a pure white flower ornament swayed. Having rushed over upon learning her daughter was leaving, a redder flush than usual had risen across her white cheeks.
"...Mother."
Seeing that she had dressed up for the first time in a while, it seemed she had already known her daughter was leaving.
"Where are you going? This is your home..."
At the warm body heat caressing her cheek, hot emotion surged up. Piel felt something clogging in her chest and could not casually continue speaking.
Yes. The Bayorn household where her mother lived was her home and her nest. She had not even married yet—there was no need to leave right away.
"I—I did wrong by you, Mom..."
It was a soft, warm body. Nestling against it, the tears she had just put to sleep threatened to burst forth again. Her mother slowly listened to her daughter's tearful voice mixed into the wind.
"Whenever I was struggling or in pain, you always comforted me and cherished me... You were the only person I could rely on..."
Darin felt her dress growing wet with tears, yet did not release the arms holding her daughter. Before long, dew was slowly welling in the mother's amber eyes as well.
"I treated you so roughly..."
"It's all right."
"Hic...! I treated you like some strange woman—hngh!"
"It's all right. It's all right, Piel."
"You say it's all right, but you kept your distance from me too—!"
"I'm sorry. Mom is sorry..."
Tightly embracing each other, mother and daughter poured out their affection and grievances beneath the winter sunlight. Though they had always been flesh and blood who stayed together, only now—after a long and painful detour—did they finally reconcile.
"I tried to do better too, but I just couldn't..."
Darin felt guilt, thinking that her own fragile heart had instead inflicted a great wound on her daughter. That what had driven her child away was not the daughter's own sin, but the foolish actions of a mother who had put distance between them. She was a mother kind to the point of foolishness.
"I won't do that anymore, so... can't you stay...?"
From the Viscountess's trembling lips, a vague fear of her daughter leaving could be felt. The rough way Piel had treated her body had been a wound, but it was something that would surely improve with time.
But somehow, she felt that a daughter who left Bayorn Territory would never return.
Ah, Mother...
Yet even as Piel felt comfort in her mother's embrace, she could not bend her resolve.
Because that damned girl that was herself—if she rubbed flesh against this woman a few more times—would black out even this pure mother's forgiveness and love, and become nothing more than a beast.
Piel shed tears even as she faced her mother with a broad smile. She wanted to show a happy face, at least for the road ahead.
Then the girl bestowed a kiss of gratitude upon the woman who had given birth to her. Not upon the lips, but upon the forehead.
And so the unfilial daughter left, maintaining her silence, leaving behind the mother who clung to her. Piel, Piel. She forced herself to ignore the woman's pitiful calls of her name.
Better that than becoming a beast who violated the natural order of kinship.