Chapter 99

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 99
Chapter Title: A Courtesy to Our Bodies
-----------------------------------------------------------------
It was about a third of the way from Taranto to San Carlo when Prince Alfonso discovered that the subject of the obituary sent by Cardinal de Mare was not Ariadne, but her younger sister, Arabella. At a monastery-affiliated post house, he met a friar who had formally received the notice of the funeral. “Miss Arabella de Mare, under the care of His Eminence Cardinal Simon de Mare, departed on her long journey under God’s guidance on the afternoon of February 1, 1123. We humbly inform you of her passing. Wake: Cardinal de Mare’s residence. Memorial Mass: Dawn, February 15, 1123, Benedict Hall, Basilica of San Ercole.”

‘Arabella, Arabella de Mare.’

Alfonso scanned the name of the deceased on the obituary two, three times, fearing he had misread it.

“Brother, is this an acquaintance of yours?”

The friar who had shown him the parchment notice asked cautiously when Prince Alfonso couldn't take his eyes off it for a long while. Clutching his trembling hand, Alfonso returned the notice to the friar.

“No, it is not.”

He didn't dare utter words like, ‘What a relief it’s someone else who died,’ but inwardly, Alfonso was offering thanks to God. And he chided himself for his own selfishness.

“We must hurry if we’re to pay our parish’s respects to the deceased at the wake before the memorial mass.”

The friar muttered worriedly, gazing up at the winter sky where snow and rain swirled. He was on his way from the southern parish of Salvitelle to offer condolences to the central parish of San Carlo on their behalf.

“And where are you headed, brother? Taranto?”

Now that he had confirmed the obituary was not Ariadne’s, the right thing for Prince Alfonso to do was return to Taranto.

“No. I’m going to San Carlo.”

Alfonso gripped the reins tightly.

* * *

“Alfonso…! How did you…!”

It had been almost a hundred days since she had last seen Alfonso’s face. Ariadne felt tears welling up. Seeing her haggard complexion and sorrow-filled face, Alfonso’s own eyes grew misty. He brushed his thumb across the corner of her eye, as if she were about to cry. Piercing through the winter chill, a profound warmth touched her skin. Feeling Alfonso’s cold fingers, Ariadne collected herself.

‘This is not the time.’

Barely managing to suppress the unseemly urge to burst into tears upon seeing him, she scanned their surroundings. Ariadne could easily guess why Alfonso de Carlo, the so-called ‘Golden Prince’ of the central continent, had cut off contact with her. It had to be because of the Kingdom of Gallico and its Grand Duchess. He was in no position to be here now. Ariadne glanced around before quickly leading Alfonso into a small hall beside the grand gallery. It was a room originally used as a family dining room, connected to the kitchen.

“Let’s go in here. There are too many eyes in the grand gallery.”

Alfonso obediently followed Ariadne inside. In the small space, where logs crackled in the fireplace, they were all alone.

“How did you get here!”

“I heard about your sister’s passing. My deepest condolences.”

Tears welled up in Ariadne’s eyes again. Arabella had been the one family member in this house to whom Ariadne had felt any real connection. Alfonso, who knew this well from their exchange of letters, made the sign of the cross. Though she had received countless mourners over the past eight days, this was the first time a condolence truly felt like it was for her. This time, Ariadne could no longer hold back, and she sobbed, offering a silent prayer for her sister. Seated on the dining room chairs, they remained silent for a long time. It was Alfonso who first broke the silence. It was always Alfonso who spoke first between them.

“How are you holding up?”

Ariadne answered with an empty laugh.

“An innocent child is dead.”

Ariadne clutched the sleeve of her mourning dress.

“A child who truly committed no sin. God takes not the sinner, but only the sinless. Good deeds go unrewarded, and evil acts go unpunished.”

She swallowed the rest of her thought: ‘And I will punish the evil acts that karma has not.’ The logs crackled in the fireplace. The sound of the winter blizzard could be heard outside the window. Even with Arabella dead, the sun still rose and set. The dead could leave no more footprints, and the living had failed to create change.

“Why must we go on living? Alfonso, why do people live?”

Her voice was laced with deep regret and exhaustion. Prince Alfonso, surprised by the desiccation that had seeped into her demeanor, looked at the green-eyed girl. Her cheeks, as dry as firewood, were hollow. When he had first met her last year, Ariadne had the pleasantly plump cheeks of a young girl. Now, her wrists, revealed beneath the thick, heavy black mourning dress, were so thin they looked as if they might break. Alfonso closed the distance between them, pulling his chair closer to Ariadne.

“Ari, you’re having a very hard time, aren’t you.”

Once the tears started, she couldn't control them. The tears she had been barely holding back now sprang forth like a fountain. Tears streamed endlessly from Ariadne’s eyes, like clear spring water. Except for the moment she learned of Arabella’s death, she hadn't cried once all week. She had been too overwhelmed with handling various affairs to have a moment to weep. But now, hearing Alfonso’s gentle voice, the sorrow that had built up inside her surged forth.

“It’s just…”

She whispered through her tears. Sighs, sobs, and words all mixed together.

“I just wish it would all end. I wish I could close my eyes and tomorrow would never come…”

Hearing Ariadne’s faint sobs, Prince Alfonso could no longer restrain himself and pulled her into his arms. The scent of the unfamiliar winter wind clinging to his hood and, in contrast, a sudden rush of warmth enveloped her. The sable-lined cloak covered Ariadne’s eyes. Intoxicated by the warmth and the bittersweet scent of him, she finally broke down and wailed. Every last shred of self-control vanished. Shielded by the fur cloak and Alfonso’s embrace, she cried her heart out until she could barely breathe, heedless of the sounds or the expression on her face. Alfonso simply held Ariadne in his arms and patted her back. His hand stroked her back in time with the rhythm of her sobs. Warmth, a comforting weight, the connection between two people. As Ariadne’s crying subsided, Alfonso shared his thoughts in a low voice.

“I sometimes have the same thought. Why we live.”

Even when someone dies, time flows on. And as time flows, people eventually die. The end is inevitable. What purpose is there in mechanically filling the time in between?

“In the end, people don't live forever; they die. Some claim to have a choice in death, but since the end comes even for those who don’t want it, death is ultimately unavoidable. The only choice is whether to bring the moment of death sooner.”

He was afraid she might become one of those who claim to have a choice in death.

“Since we were born, let’s live diligently, be grateful to be alive, and enjoy our time as happily as we can. Even if life doesn’t go as planned, let’s not despair, but save that energy to go somewhere, anywhere, and try to find the greatest happiness we can.”

After crying for a long time, Ariadne, her tears finally spent, pulled her head out from under the cloak, and Alfonso used its edge to wipe her tears away. Her front teeth, slightly visible between her full lips, looked like a rabbit’s. He knew he shouldn't. There are lines in this world that, once crossed, can never be uncrossed. But there are times when, even looking back from the distant future, you know you couldn't have acted any other way. A moment when all the world’s choices narrow to one. This was that moment. Alfonso could no longer resist. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to Ariadne’s parted ones.

“…!”

Soft lips met soft lips. An unfamiliar heat spread from the point of contact to her cheeks, from her cheeks to her neck, and from there throughout her entire body. Ariadne, startled, parted her lips, and Alfonso did not miss the opportunity. The first thing Alfonso sought was her cute rabbit teeth. Contrary to the impression that they might be cold, Ariadne’s white front teeth were as smooth and sweet as candy.

“Mmph…!”

The woman, short of breath, let out a low moan. The man pulled back slightly, giving her a moment to inhale, before immediately devouring her parted lips once more. The scent of her, deeply ingrained in his memory from the time he had entered her room, sweetly stimulated Alfonso’s senses. He drank in the fragrance he had craved but could not possess, inhaling it deeply again and again. The kiss of the man who had traversed half the country through snow just to see her was persistent and fierce. She did not pull away. Alfonso buried his hand deep in the hair at the nape of her neck, while Ariadne clung to his, accepting the man’s affectionate assault. The way he held her and she was held was the same as at the débutante ball when he had wiped her tears with his purple ceremonial cloak, but so much was different now. The heat was different, the desperation was different, and the futility of an unattainable love overflowed. Unlike Alfonso’s pristine cloak from that day, the one he wore today was marred with traces of melted ice and frozen bits of winter grass. After enough time had passed for a bowl of soup to grow cold in the chilly room, Alfonso slowly pulled his lips away.

“…Hah…”

“Mm…”

The contact had been dreamlike, and now that it was over, nothing remained. Only a thin strand of saliva, swollen red lips, and a soaring body temperature testified to what had just happened. He gazed into her deep, forest-green eyes. He hoped that from the despair settled within them, hope would bloom.

“Don’t you even think about dying.”

Alfonso raised a hand and brushed back Ariadne’s disheveled hair. It was similar to how Ariadne had once tucked his hair behind his ear at the fountain in the Queen’s Palace, but his touch was stronger, deeper. The girl’s loosely tied black hair cascaded down like a waterfall.

“It’s a courtesy to life. A courtesy to your heart, your blood, and the living, breathing body you inhabit.”

And an effort for me, for the man who loves you. Alfonso whispered only in his mind. Don’t die. I realize it now. I can’t live in a world without you.

“If you stay alive, good days will surely come.”

Alfonso himself, despite the hardship of traveling 280 miglios through snowy roads and biting winter winds, was now finding solace in Ariadne’s scent. Even if the Kingdom of Gallico threatened conflict, even if he was on the verge of being sold off to a woman he didn’t love, there would surely be good parts to life. He paused for a moment before adding more words.

“I was so scared I would lose you.”

Ariadne could only nod helplessly. Alfonso gazed down at Ariadne, then tightened his arms around her, pulling her into a firm embrace.

“I thought you were dead.”

Alfonso recounted the emotions he had felt while riding through the snow from Taranto. The first thing that came was regret.

‘Why couldn’t I even bring myself to tell her I loved her?’

There were countless reasons. For the nation, for the people, for the preservation of the throne. But in the end, when he thought Ariadne was gone, what he felt was a terribly heavy sense of loss. He was not okay without her. Alfonso had been raised to believe he must sacrifice himself for his country and his people. But as he worshipped her lips, he realized. Without this girl, he would be nothing but an empty shell. He was not the kind of person who could abandon his responsibilities and duties. Even now, he would not take her hand and run away into the fields. Instead, he possessed the characteristic optimism and fighting spirit of youth, believing he could accomplish anything. Alfonso lowered his head and nuzzled his nose against the cheek of the girl he still held tightly in his embrace.

“I’ll solve everything and come back.”

His actions were improper in more than ten ways for the betrothed of Grand Duchess Lariesa. The Kingdom of Etruscan’s regular army was in a state of shambles, but they had abundant gold, a prosperous land, and a teeming populace. They would be fine even without Gallico’s help. He would make it so. Prince Alfonso, the young future king, silently vowed to his future queen before him.

“Just wait a little while, Ari.”

Alfonso pressed a kiss to Ariadne’s cheek. Ariadne understood immediately what the prince was saying. She knew what would happen next. Could he truly handle all of it? Ariadne wanted to reveal the future to Alfonso, but it was impossible. For a moment, the memory of Giada’s hands burning to ash made Ariadne shudder. For now, she didn't want to think about anything. She just wanted to believe Alfonso’s assurance, that impossibly sweet promise. She looked up at Alfonso and nodded, and he kissed her lips once more. There was no hesitation in their second kiss. The two youths, breathing heavily, shared their heat once again, and Alfonso’s hand, holding Ariadne, gradually moved upward like a salmon swimming against the current, reaching the front of her dress.

“Alfonso!”

No one knew if his touch was accidental or intentional. But the first thing that flashed through Ariadne’s mind were the actions of her former fiancé. Without even considering the possibility that it might be a mistake, she reacted instinctively, startled, and straightened her posture.