Delusion (24)
Delusion (24)
The wedding to Estelle took place shortly after.
The ceremony was held at the largest church in Edelgard territory.
A respectable union on paper, yet the city felt oddly subdued.
The crowds were thin.
Given that demons, monsters, and the like were flooding in, it made sense.
Men were being dragged to the front lines, and plenty of others had fled elsewhere as refugees.
I couldn't quite grasp what it felt like for the world to be ending, but the sensation seeped in nonetheless—secondhand.
In any case, plenty of people loved and blessed the Saintess—regardless of what they thought of me—so the wedding itself proceeded without a hitch.
We exchanged vows, swapped rings, shared the ceremonial kiss.
Afterward, the exhausting ritual of meaningless small talk with the guests.
I'd just wiped the corners of my mouth with a napkin embossed with the family crest and was about to set down a glass of champagne.
Crash!
The church's massive doors burst open.
Armed figures strode inside.
Their clothes were neat enough, but their faces and hands were a web of battlefield scars.
Fatigue and desperation clung to them.
Kyle led them.
He shoved aside priests and knights who tried to block his path, treating them as barely worth a sneer, and approached Estelle and me.
Then, without hesitation, he dropped to one knee.
The crack of his knee against the marble floor echoed.
Kyle looked up at me.
His eyes were urgent, nearly desperate.
"Your Excellency, Duke Edelgard."
His voice had gone ragged, as though his vocal cords had been shredded since I'd last heard him.
"Demons will overrun this domain soon.
Please. Even if you cannot grant what I requested in the letter I sent—at least provide minimal supplies."
I knew nothing of any letter.
I had no memory of receiving one.
Most likely someone mentioned it, and I told them to handle it because I didn't care.
I didn't answer. I smiled instead.
Not to mock him.
I simply didn't know what expression to wear.
Kyle's face twisted the moment he saw that smile.
The tendons in his clenched fist bulged, but he did nothing.
He bit his lip and held still.
Still kneeling, he turned his gaze up toward Estelle.
His voice cracked with something close to hatred.
"Lady Saintess. It is time for you to do your duty alongside the Church."
Estelle looked down at him with cold eyes.
"Countless people are dying on the battlefield, without hope, without meaning.
They die praying for God's protection. And yet you—"
Estelle cut him off.
"I've decided to live as an ordinary woman now. Please leave."
Her voice was ice.
"You are still the Saintess! If you do not come, what of the soldiers on the front?
Who will stop the monsters and demons? Please—please do your duty!"
Kyle's cry came out raw, as if he were vomiting blood.
The faces of those standing behind him held the same desperation.
Faces I'd seen a few times at the Academy. Once, they had been full of life.
Now they stood like hollow dolls.
And behind them—Serepina.
A black eyepatch covered her left eye, and a long, terrible scar snaked out from beneath it.
When our eyes met, tears spilled down her cheek, and the corner of her mouth lifted just slightly.
Estelle walked slowly over to Kyle.
She leaned close to his ear and whispered, so quietly that only someone standing as near as I was could hear.
"Shut up. Don't ruin the mood. Get out."
Kyle stumbled a little as he got to his feet.
He looked back and forth between Estelle and me for a moment, then trudged out of the church.
The ones who'd followed him left in silence.
An awkward hush settled over the church again.
The festivities outside stumbled on in a strange atmosphere.
The music blared, but people's laughter sounded unnatural.
Everyone was pretending to be cheerful; their eyes betrayed anxiety and fear.
The street musician's lute sounded more mournful than merry.
Children ran around waving flags, but there weren't many of them, so even their laughter was faint.
Rather than drinking and dancing, it seemed most people were just guzzling booze to forget the day, sprawled out all over the streets.
But Estelle and I were not the sort to concern ourselves with any of that.
We simply stood at the center of the subtly collapsing celebration and gazed at one another.
So passed the lavish, exhausting daylight.
Night came. Our wedding night.
Estelle wore only a thin camisole beneath a single robe.
She flopped onto the huge bed in my chamber, sprawled out, staring at the ceiling.
"So noble lords do sleep in beds this big."
She pushed herself up and went to the small table beside the bed.
A bottle of wine, two clean glasses, and a modest plate of refreshments sat there.
Estelle twisted the cork out bare-handed and poured wine into a glass.
"Here."
I took the glass she offered.
The red liquid swayed quietly.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
"Feel about what?"
Estelle returned the question.
"Duty. And all that."
"I don't care."
She said it firmly.
She took a sip of wine and put the glass down.
"What difference does it make if I get sick here with no one to heal me, starve to death in a back alley, or get torn apart by demons."
When our eyes met, she looked down at the floor and muttered.
"I know I'm twisted."
She stepped closer and stroked my cheek gently.
"And besides, if I went, I couldn't stay with you. Though if you went, I'd follow."
She gave my lips a light kiss.
"Let's stop this unpleasant talk.
More importantly, you said you'd do anything for me.
Anything, except having a child."
Estelle looked me straight in the eye.
"Tell me you love me."
"...I love you."
Her irises glowed red in the candlelight.
"You've met plenty of girls like me.
You must have handled them however you liked and thrown them away like trash.
So you know exactly what to do at times like this, don't you?"
She shrugged off the robe as she spoke.
Her body showed plainly through the thin camisole.
Estelle wrapped her arms around me and pulled me onto the bed.
"W-wait. I haven't even washed up yet.""I don't care."
Estelle whispered in my ear.
A faint note of laughter threaded through her voice.
Slowly, she climbed on top of me, gripping me tight.
The heat of her skin seeped through the thin fabric of the camisole.
Then she found my mouth roughly, as if handling a toy.
I tried to push her away.
She was far stronger than I expected.
Instead of her moving, I was the one pushed back into the center of the bed.
Estelle stared down at me with a flushed smile.
Something about it was off, though.
Only her lips moved, awkward and unnatural.
The moment I slid my tongue inside, her whole body went rigid.
I eased her shoulders back and cupped her breasts in my hands.
"Hnng...!"
Estelle's body jolted. Her eyes grew hazy, as though she couldn't catch her breath.
I kneaded her breasts gently, rubbing the nipples with my fingers.
Ragged breaths spilled from her lips.
Estelle broke the kiss and tried to climb off, but I held her shoulders.
"Haa, ah... wait, wait... Ravin..."
She tried to resist, but the strength seemed to have left her body.
I pushed her camisole up and buried my face against her chest.
The soft feel of her skin and her sweet scent teased my senses.
I licked her nipple, then bit down lightly.
Estelle twisted her hips and let out a moan.
"Ah, no... Ravin..."
I laid her down on the bed and slid between her legs.
I pulled the camisole off the rest of the way and traced my fingers over her soaked underwear.
"Hnngh! Th-there, that's...!"
She tried to close her legs, but I held her thighs firmly.
I pushed her underwear aside and brought my fingers to the slick, wet place between them.
A hot, soft sensation met my fingertips.
With my other hand, I wrapped her hair once around my fist, keeping her from curling up.
"Ah... aah..."
I moved my fingers slowly.
Estelle trembled, but with her hair caught she couldn't pull away.
Watching her reactions, I sped up the motion of my fingers.
The wet, messy sound filled the room.
When her body began to quiver, I pulled my fingers out.
Then, without hesitation, I pushed myself inside her.
"Nnghk, hnn—!"
Estelle moaned.
I held her waist and began to move slowly.
Gentle at first, then rougher.
The creaking of the bed, the sound of breathing, the slap of skin—all of it filled the room.
I don't know how much time passed.
Estelle's body spasmed hard.
She tried to push me away.
I kissed her again, for minutes on end.
Not letting her breathe.
Some time later, when Estelle started trembling again, I pulled out of her.
White fluid splattered across her back.
I grabbed a cloth and wiped it off her skin.
Our eyes met, but she seemed to have no strength left.
She just stared at me blankly.
I got up from the bed and drank what remained of the wine.
Then I threw on some clothes and packed the pipe full of tobacco.
I sprinkled a heavy layer of white powder—stuff I hadn't touched in a while—over the tobacco.
These days I could summon a small flame without a magic stone, so I lit the pipe with my fingertip and inhaled deeply.
I breathed the smoke in and out for a long moment, staring blankly at Estelle as she lay curled up on the bed.