Shock and Horror
“Get a hold of yourself, my lady.”
“……I wish this was all just me losing my mind.”
Richard yanked the blanket over his head and thrashed in embarrassment.
“At least you know enough to feel ashamed. Though lying there like that only makes it worse, don’t you think?”
“Can’t you just leave me like this a little longer, Virginia?”
“I’d like nothing more. But Your Majesty?”
She only addressed him by his official title when something urgent demanded immediate attention.
“If you don’t rise now, things will become far more complicated later.”
“But……”
Tears welled in Richard’s eyes. He knew full well that the longer he stayed hidden, the worse the situation would grow, yet he couldn’t bring himself to move. He had no idea what to do, and even less desire to do anything about it.
“My lady, you must at least clean yourself. At this rate you’ll soil the bed, not just your clothes.”
“……I understand, so can’t you just leave me be for a moment?”
“Do you have any idea how many minutes have already passed? The entire bedchamber will be drenched in blood if this continues!”
“Haah…… That’s not why I’m doing this, Virginia.”
He truly could not endure it any longer. Another drop of menstrual blood trickled from between his legs. The sensation was grotesque, indescribably filthy. He recoiled in horror and bolted upright, his face twisted.
Seeing his expression, Virginia spoke.
“Really now, this isn’t even your first time. Stop making that face.”
Yet to Richard it might as well have been his first. He wore a miserable look and muttered,
“This…… This is too much…… Oh God!”
He buried his face in his hands. He had known women suffered monthly, and had vaguely expected the same fate would one day befall him—but why now, while his memories were still fractured? Why must he bleed between his legs just as he regained his senses?
Virginia, oblivious to his torment, pulled him firmly toward her.
“Up you get. And stop exaggerating when your cramps aren’t even that bad.”
She lifted his chemise without ceremony. A towel rested in her hand, already moving toward his thighs—an ordinary act for her, but utterly unacceptable to him.
“What are you doing!”
Richard shoved her away in fury.
“Kyaa!”
The sight of Virginia’s large frame being pushed aside by the smaller Richard was startling—not only physically, but ethically. Both of them froze, staring at each other in shock. Tears streamed down Virginia’s cheeks.
“M-My lady……?”
“I-I’m sorry, Virginia. I didn’t mean to…… It just happened……”
Richard’s shoulders trembled as he slowly backed away. He could not believe what had just occurred: that he had struck the woman who had raised him like a mother, that blood now ran down his thigh, that he had done something so shameful while his memories were lost. He wanted to flee reality itself. He kicked off the floor and ran.
But reality would not let him escape.
==========
Though it had only been a week, his lack of exercise was severe. Perhaps that was not the only reason. After all, this was his first menstruation—well, the first he remembered as Richard. If he borrowed Richelle’s memories, it would not be the first, but he had no desire to touch those recollections. Doing so might mean being devoured by them forever.
He had barely run any distance before his breath came in ragged gasps. Looking around, he found himself standing before the royal stables without realizing it. No one else was in sight. He steadied his breathing and thought, I need to take a horse and ride beyond the walls. Just one circuit around the castle.
It was a terrible idea, of course. Even the Queen’s command would not persuade anyone to saddle a horse for a woman wearing nothing but a chemise over her undergarments and open the gates at this hour. Yet he was desperate enough to seriously consider it.
If Marion had not stopped him, he might truly have marched straight into the stables.
“Your Majesty.”
“Hrk!”
“Hush.”
Marion covered his mouth.
“You intend to leave the castle dressed like that? At this hour?”
“Mmph……”
Richard finally realized his mistake. He tried to pry Marion’s hand away, but she shook her head.
“You must promise not to scream.”
“Mmph-mmph!”
Richard tried to protest that he was no child, but Marion remained firm.
“Promise you will not cause a scene.”
Richard slowly nodded. Marion smiled faintly and removed her hand.
Richard asked, “……How did you know I was here?”
“Whenever something angers Your Majesty, you always come to the stables, take a horse, and ride beyond the walls. When Philip informed me of trouble concerning you, I guessed you might come here.”
“But I don’t always run to the stables when I’m angry. I might have gone to train you instead.”
Marion gave a light laugh.
“You haven’t done so once in the past week. Besides, the sun is already setting, and you’ve just begun your monthly courses.”
“H-How did you know that!?”
“Hush!”
Marion bowed her head, her expression serious.
“If you keep this up, someone will find you.”
“How did you know? Did Virginia…… tell you?”
Marion smiled awkwardly.
“I remember my wife’s cycle quite well.”
Richard was stunned. He did not know how to feel about someone knowing such intimate details of his life. It was not pleasant to be so thoroughly observed, yet the certainty that she would catch him if he ran wild and soothe him afterward was oddly reassuring. He stared at Marion. She grinned.
“You remember all of that?”
“Well, that’s not the only thing……”
Marion looked away. Richard followed her gaze and blushed. Scattered drops of blood trailed across the floor. He clenched his fist and struck Marion’s abdomen with a short, sharp blow. Her stomach was braced.
“Urgh!”
He growled low at her.
“Be grateful I stopped there, Lady Marion!”
Marion forced a smile, clutched her stomach, and sank to the ground at Richard’s feet, her face flushed crimson. Even prepared, enduring Richard’s punch was no easy feat. She squeezed out what strength she had left.
“I-I am deeply grateful, Your Majesty…… Now…… you must…… clean up……”
==========
Having fled the bedchamber after shoving Virginia aside, Richard refused to return to his own room. He also rejected Marion’s suggestion that he go to hers. Even if he went there, summoning a maid with water and towels would eventually reveal everything.
In the end, he chose the only other place in the high castle where hot water and towels were always prepared and secrecy could still be maintained: the Queen’s private bathhouse, the Martyr’s Crimson Heart.
Inside, he told Marion, “I can do it myself.”
“You cannot. From what I see, Your Majesty does not even know where or how to clean.”
“S-Still……”
Richard’s face burned. Marion spoke sternly.
“You are doing well. Now lift your chemise and spread your legs.”
“I can manage……”
“Quickly.”
“Haah.”
Richard flushed, yanked his chemise up, and squeezed his eyes shut. He could not see her, yet he felt the expression Marion wore. He drew a deep breath and spread his legs wide.
“Well done. I will clean you now, Richelle.”
Her—Marion’s—low voice echoed off the bathhouse walls. Then her hand touched him. The warm, damp towel wiped between his bloodied thighs, and some of the rigid tension in his body eased. Yet Marion’s touch, gentle though it was, unmistakably belonged to a man. It was enough to recall the events of the day after the coronation. Unconsciously, Richard pushed Marion’s shoulder away. Startled by his own action, he opened his eyes. She looked briefly surprised, then smiled softly and soaked a fresh towel in warm water.
“……You’re not angry?” he asked. “I nearly knocked you over.”
“How could I be? You are my beloved wife.”
This time Richard truly shoved her. Marion slipped on the wet floor and landed hard, soaking her backside.
“Who are you calling that?”
“You are my beloved wife, Richelle.”
He kicked her in the chest with his foot. She had braced this time, so her head did not strike the floor, and Richard had not truly meant to harm her. Still, the blow was not harmless. He planted his foot on her chest and demanded,
“What…… No, forget the wife part. Just explain it as ‘spouse.’ Who? What did they do? To whom? You hated me before the wedding because you loved me? Tell me.”
“Kuh…… Your Majesty…… your foot……”
At Marion’s pained plea, Richard eased the pressure slightly.
“It was the same on coronation day. And on the wedding day.”
“That was a misunderstanding, Your Majesty.”
“What misunderstanding? I never thought you could be this shameless.”
“At the time…… it may sound like an excuse, but Your Majesty, on that day I was not Prince Marion of Zylan, but Countess Marion of Zad. I am not the same person I was then.”
“Hah. You certainly talk well. Very well, then.”
Yet Richard still had one more opening.
“Then how do you explain what happened the day after the coronation?”
Marion asked him to remove his foot. She straightened, then knelt on one knee before him.
“That day was the first. My two selves had not yet merged properly. I have no excuse for what occurred, and I beg your forgiveness for speaking so boldly. Will you allow me to explain?”
Marion lifted her head and met Richard’s gaze with fierce intensity. The choice of the word “self” rather than “memory” bothered him, but he nodded, curious.
“Very well.”
Marion lowered her head again and continued.
“Before the wedding, I truly despised Prince Richard. He was violent, discourteous, unfaithful to his fiancée, and frequented brothels—an unbelieving noble. As Countess of Zad, I could not like him. I always avoided his company, and when I could not, I never hid my discomfort. Whenever possible, I mocked him without restraint.”
“You needn’t tell me that. So? Do you want me to punish you for it now?”
“That is not what I ask. Please, hear me a little longer.”
Marion looked up at Richard with gentle eyes, and he found he had no answer but the one she expected.
“……Go on.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. But I must say this: the Prince Consort of Zylan, the Count of Zad—Marion—loves his wife and sovereign, Queen Richelle of Zylan, more than anyone.”
Richard felt the hairs on his body stand on end. It was not so different from the feeling he had experienced the day after the coronation. To hear such words while nearly naked in the steamy warmth of the bathhouse at night, and from the mouth of someone like Prince Marion! He nearly kicked her chin again to silence the ridiculous statement. What stopped him was the light, stabbing cramp low in his belly—and the single sentence Marion had spoken that the pain had brought to mind.
He looked at her, puzzled.
“Merged? Your selves?”
“What do you mean?”
Richard’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“I am either Richard or Richelle. When I am Richard, I am not Richelle, and vice versa. Yet you speak as though you are both Count and Countess of Zad at once.”
Marion answered, her gaze no less troubled than his.
“Does Your Majesty claim otherwise? Are your two selves completely divided, as though by a wall?”