49. Because it's pretty
Madam Fitz was taken aback for a moment, but soon regained her composure.
A messy bed, pajamas strewn across the floor. An empty glass on the nightstand. The Grand Duchess vanished in an instant. And a sheet hem caught between the cracks in the bathroom door. Putting it all together, a rough picture emerged.
“Everyone, please stand back and wait.”
Mada. Fitz, turning around with a calm expression, gave a stern command. The maids, who had been peering around the bedroom with curious eyes, flinched and lowered their heads.
"Hurry."
Even with just a few quick words of urging, the maids hurried out of the bedroom. Lisa, who had held onto her lingering attachment until the very end, was eventually forced to turn back.
After making sure the bedroom door was closed, Madam Fitz quietly approached the bathroom where the Grand Duchess was hiding.
“Your Highness, all the other maids have been out.”
“...Yes. I’m sorry, Madam Fitz.”
A thin, trembling voice flowed out through the crack in the closed door.
“No. Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, it’s okay. Just a little...”
Erna couldn't speak at once. Madame Fitz waited patiently, then carefully examined the Grand Duchess's bedroom once more.
This morning, Bjorn woke up in his bedroom and began his day, looking no different than any other day.
From the moment he washed, ate, and left, Bjorn never mentioned his wife once. It was as if he had completely forgotten about her, even though he had just brought her home after their wedding the previous day.
She had a bad feeling about this, so she risked being rude, and it was as expected.
She couldn't dare speculate about the couple's relationship, but she knew this wasn't a typical morning scene for a newlywed. The groom, who had been living his life with aplomb since his first wedding morning, was no different.
“If you are uncomfortable with the bathing water, I will not bring a maid.”
Madam Fitz said the words Erna could not bring herself to say.
"I'll just tidy up the bedroom and then I'll be gone. Just ring the bell when you're ready."
"Thank you."
"Not at all. I'm just doing what I have to do. But Your Highness."
Madam Fitz cleared her throat and continued speaking awkwardly.
“Could you please... give me back that sheet?”
It was not hard to guess why Erna was desperately trying to hide it, but it was also something she couldn't just leave alone.
The sound of the door slowly opening drifted into the silence that had been lingering for a while. Madam Fitz calmly took a step back and waited. But the moment she spotted Erna standing on the other side of the threshold, she swallowed without realizing it.
The Grand Duchess, her body sloppily covered in an oversized bathrobe, held out the sheet, unable to meet her eyes. She looked so haggard, it was hard to believe she was the newlywed she'd so beautifully dressed the night before. Puffy eyes, disheveled hair, and the marks on her neck and chest were etched into her eyes.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Madam Fitz quickly composed herself, greeted her as if nothing had happened, and closed the bathroom door. "Prince!" She felt like she would have unconsciously let out a similar cry if Bjorn had been right in front of her.
She wondered if it was love, since he had chosen such an unlikely bride. But if it were love, if he loved her enough to risk the world's condemnation in marriage, he wouldn't have left her to face such a miserable morning alone.
Madam Fitz sighed deeply, wiping away the worries the mysterious Prince had left her, and left the bedroom, clutching the neatly tucked sheets, which had been carefully tucked away to hide any traces of blood.
It was the Grand Duchess's first morning, and she was somewhat worried about the future.
“Thank you very much, Madam Fitz.”
Erna repeated the same words again for what seemed like the umpteenth time.
"You're welcome."
Madam Fitz gave the same answer this time. At first glance, her demeanor seemed stiff, but her expression and gaze were noticeably softer.
“This is a calming medicine. Take it and get some rest.”
Madan Fitz handed Erna a small vial she had brought on a silver platter.
“But today, I’m going to have Madam Fitz show me around the Grand Duke's residence...”
“It’s okay if you postpone it for a day or so.”
Despite her gentle countenance, Madam Fitz's tone was firm.
“The Prince also asked me to do so.”
She also added a few white lies.
Erna, lost in thought for a moment, changed her mind about getting out of bed and obediently accepted the bottle. Truthfully, she hadn't felt confident enough to navigate the vast palace with her aching body, so she was deeply grateful and thankful for Bjorn's consideration.
After Madam Fitz confirmed that Erna had taken her medicine and was now in bed, she left Erna alone in the bedroom. It was still broad daylight, but the curtains were carefully drawn, creating a cozy atmosphere in the room.
Erna stared blankly into the fireplace light, clutching the quilt. She felt relieved, yet at the same time, lonely. Spending her wedding day lying in bed? Had her grandmother, who had been overjoyed at her granddaughter's becoming the kingdom's Grand Duchess, seen this, she would have been deeply disappointed.
"Grandma..."
Suddenly, when that name came to mind, her heart ached a little.
It was just as the reception was about to begin that she learned that Baroness Baden had returned to Burford. She was annoyed that her grandmother had left without a proper farewell, but she couldn't hold it against her.
They say everyone has their own place.
Every time she suggested moving to Schwerin, Baroness Baden gave the same answer. Erna couldn't resist, knowing her grandmother's ever-vigilant caution against causing any harm to her granddaughter.
Erna, tossing and turning in a state of distress, stared at the ceiling with a pensive expression. Neither the name Dneister nor this room felt like her own. More than anything, it was her husband, Bjorn, who felt the same.
As memories of the previous night came flooding back, a wave of ecstasy washed over her, and her tired body stiffened again. Erna still couldn't quite believe that something so bizarre, so breathless just thinking about it, had happened to her.
Erna checked the closed door several more times, then pulled the blanket up to her head. The dull pains that lingered everywhere reminded her of the irreversible reality. The Archbishop's words, that marriage is a journey of mutual dependence on one another, seemed to be true.
Bjorn left Erna, half-conscious and curled up in the dead of night, behind. It felt wrong, but the relief that it was finally over finally erased those doubts.
Erna stared blankly at the heartless back of his head as he walked away without a single glance back. She heard the door to the passageway connecting the couple's bedroom close, and closed her eyes. The thought of cleaning up the messy bed and body crossed her mind, but she couldn't move a finger. That was the last memory of their first night.
Since you went out, I think you'll be back around dinner time.
Erna longed for him to return, but the moment she faced Bjorn upon his return was terrifying and overwhelming. Seized by a strange, indescribable feeling, Erna buried her face in a pile of pillows.
Bjorn was affectionate. And ruthless. Warm and yet ruthless. It's strange how such disparate qualities can coexist in one person, yet neither one felt like a fabrication.
The more she looks at him, the less she knows about him.
After much thought, Erna fell into a deep sleep amidst the vain conclusion she had reached.
Perhaps because her mind was in disarray, she had a nightmare. It was a dream in which she was eaten alive by a large white wolf.
The Grand Duke's carriage returned to Schwerin Palace just as the western sky began to turn crimson. Aside from a slight fatigue from his busy schedule, he appeared as usual.
After exchanging brief greetings with the attendants who had come out to greet him, Bjorn strode briskly across the entrance hall. Madame Fitz followed closely behind him, her footsteps unusually firm today.
"Her Highness is asleep in her bedroom. I told her to rest comfortably, as she seemed unwell."
“Ah. Yes.”
“You’ve just completed the big task of getting married. How about taking a few days to relax?”
There was a strange thorn in the question that was asked indirectly.
“I will enjoy my break on my honeymoon.”
“Isn’t that honeymoon still two weeks away, Your Highness?”
A faint wrinkle formed between Madam Fitz's brows. A faint smile played on Bjorn's lips as he glanced at his nanny's complexion.
“So now you’ve decided to side with the Grand Duchess?”
"Yes?"
“Madam Fitz, there’s no way you wouldn’t know that a honeymoon isn’t just a honeymoon.”
Pausing on the landing, Bjorn turned to face Madam Fitz. His face still held a faint smile, but his gaze, fixed directly on his nanny, was no longer a smile.
Although it was formally a honeymoon, it was actually closer to an overseas tour leading a diplomatic delegation.
Given the complex intertwining of political dynamics and the balance of power between continental nations, securing a solid alliance was crucial. Ironically, Bjorn was the perfect candidate for this task thanks to his abdication of the crown. While a visit from a King or Crown Prince often involved significant political action, the actions of a Prince absconding from the throne could be far more casual. Adding the plausible pretext of a honeymoon to the mix, there was no better opportunity for political sleuthing. Adding personal matters and monitoring the financial markets of each country, the journey became quite complex.
“You know perfectly well why I have to be busy meeting the sullen old men of the council the day after my wedding, but there must be a reason why you keep talking nonsense.”
“Your Highness...”
"You're abandoning me because of a one-day-old Grand Duchess. I'm starting to feel a little resentful."
Bjorn's intentions were conveyed more clearly through his attitude, which was a mixture of lighthearted jokes and laughter.
Up to here.
Madam Fitz, sensing the clearly drawn line, quickly took a step back.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
“Don’t do that. Between us.”
This time, Bjorn grinned, like the boy he was in his childhood, and began climbing the stairs with a brisk stride. Madam Fitz, swallowing her prepared words, followed him, relaying a perfectly routine report.
“Oh, Madam Fitz.”
He sat cross-legged on a chair by the bedroom window, opened the envelope of the letter he had received, and called out to his nanny.
“As you said, there is still a fortnight left, so teach my wife.”
"Yes?"
“Since my wife doesn’t have an adult in her family to teach her the ways of the bedroom, shouldn’t someone else take on the job?”
The brazen command, delivered in a monotonous, calm voice, momentarily stunned Madam Fitz. But she composurely obeyed her master's wishes.
"Yes. I will contact the royal family and have them summon the right person. By the way, Your Highness."
“Please speak.”
Bjorn nodded as he read the letter.
“Why did you choose the current Grand Duchess as your wife?”
Madam Fitz, who had been staring blankly at the Prince she had raised with her own hands but whose true nature she could not fathom, asked a question. She knew it was presumptuous, but her doubts were now too strong to suppress.
“Erna...”
Bjorn put down the letter he'd finished reading and opened the envelope containing the next letter. The sunset shattered into tiny pieces as it struck the loosely held blade of the paper knife.
“Well, because she's pretty.”
Bjorn calmly gave an answer that took the other person's breath away.
“Your Highness.”
“She's pretty, Erna.”
Bjorn unfolded the letter and nodded nonchalantly.
“Isn’t that so?”
Madam Fitz couldn't give any answer to the Prince's question, which was making her head spin.
One evening, when she suddenly felt like seeking God, the autumn evening sunset was so beautiful that she couldn't help but notice it.
Madam Fitz was taken aback for a moment, but soon regained her composure.
A messy bed, pajamas strewn across the floor. An empty glass on the nightstand. The Grand Duchess vanished in an instant. And a sheet hem caught between the cracks in the bathroom door. Putting it all together, a rough picture emerged.
“Everyone, please stand back and wait.”
Mada. Fitz, turning around with a calm expression, gave a stern command. The maids, who had been peering around the bedroom with curious eyes, flinched and lowered their heads.
"Hurry."
Even with just a few quick words of urging, the maids hurried out of the bedroom. Lisa, who had held onto her lingering attachment until the very end, was eventually forced to turn back.
After making sure the bedroom door was closed, Madam Fitz quietly approached the bathroom where the Grand Duchess was hiding.
“Your Highness, all the other maids have been out.”
“...Yes. I’m sorry, Madam Fitz.”
A thin, trembling voice flowed out through the crack in the closed door.
“No. Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, it’s okay. Just a little...”
Erna couldn't speak at once. Madame Fitz waited patiently, then carefully examined the Grand Duchess's bedroom once more.
This morning, Bjorn woke up in his bedroom and began his day, looking no different than any other day.
From the moment he washed, ate, and left, Bjorn never mentioned his wife once. It was as if he had completely forgotten about her, even though he had just brought her home after their wedding the previous day.
She had a bad feeling about this, so she risked being rude, and it was as expected.
She couldn't dare speculate about the couple's relationship, but she knew this wasn't a typical morning scene for a newlywed. The groom, who had been living his life with aplomb since his first wedding morning, was no different.
“If you are uncomfortable with the bathing water, I will not bring a maid.”
Madam Fitz said the words Erna could not bring herself to say.
"I'll just tidy up the bedroom and then I'll be gone. Just ring the bell when you're ready."
"Thank you."
"Not at all. I'm just doing what I have to do. But Your Highness."
Madam Fitz cleared her throat and continued speaking awkwardly.
“Could you please... give me back that sheet?”
It was not hard to guess why Erna was desperately trying to hide it, but it was also something she couldn't just leave alone.
The sound of the door slowly opening drifted into the silence that had been lingering for a while. Madam Fitz calmly took a step back and waited. But the moment she spotted Erna standing on the other side of the threshold, she swallowed without realizing it.
The Grand Duchess, her body sloppily covered in an oversized bathrobe, held out the sheet, unable to meet her eyes. She looked so haggard, it was hard to believe she was the newlywed she'd so beautifully dressed the night before. Puffy eyes, disheveled hair, and the marks on her neck and chest were etched into her eyes.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Madam Fitz quickly composed herself, greeted her as if nothing had happened, and closed the bathroom door. "Prince!" She felt like she would have unconsciously let out a similar cry if Bjorn had been right in front of her.
She wondered if it was love, since he had chosen such an unlikely bride. But if it were love, if he loved her enough to risk the world's condemnation in marriage, he wouldn't have left her to face such a miserable morning alone.
Madam Fitz sighed deeply, wiping away the worries the mysterious Prince had left her, and left the bedroom, clutching the neatly tucked sheets, which had been carefully tucked away to hide any traces of blood.
It was the Grand Duchess's first morning, and she was somewhat worried about the future.
***
“Thank you very much, Madam Fitz.”
Erna repeated the same words again for what seemed like the umpteenth time.
"You're welcome."
Madam Fitz gave the same answer this time. At first glance, her demeanor seemed stiff, but her expression and gaze were noticeably softer.
“This is a calming medicine. Take it and get some rest.”
Madan Fitz handed Erna a small vial she had brought on a silver platter.
“But today, I’m going to have Madam Fitz show me around the Grand Duke's residence...”
“It’s okay if you postpone it for a day or so.”
Despite her gentle countenance, Madam Fitz's tone was firm.
“The Prince also asked me to do so.”
She also added a few white lies.
Erna, lost in thought for a moment, changed her mind about getting out of bed and obediently accepted the bottle. Truthfully, she hadn't felt confident enough to navigate the vast palace with her aching body, so she was deeply grateful and thankful for Bjorn's consideration.
After Madam Fitz confirmed that Erna had taken her medicine and was now in bed, she left Erna alone in the bedroom. It was still broad daylight, but the curtains were carefully drawn, creating a cozy atmosphere in the room.
Erna stared blankly into the fireplace light, clutching the quilt. She felt relieved, yet at the same time, lonely. Spending her wedding day lying in bed? Had her grandmother, who had been overjoyed at her granddaughter's becoming the kingdom's Grand Duchess, seen this, she would have been deeply disappointed.
"Grandma..."
Suddenly, when that name came to mind, her heart ached a little.
It was just as the reception was about to begin that she learned that Baroness Baden had returned to Burford. She was annoyed that her grandmother had left without a proper farewell, but she couldn't hold it against her.
They say everyone has their own place.
Every time she suggested moving to Schwerin, Baroness Baden gave the same answer. Erna couldn't resist, knowing her grandmother's ever-vigilant caution against causing any harm to her granddaughter.
Erna, tossing and turning in a state of distress, stared at the ceiling with a pensive expression. Neither the name Dneister nor this room felt like her own. More than anything, it was her husband, Bjorn, who felt the same.
As memories of the previous night came flooding back, a wave of ecstasy washed over her, and her tired body stiffened again. Erna still couldn't quite believe that something so bizarre, so breathless just thinking about it, had happened to her.
Erna checked the closed door several more times, then pulled the blanket up to her head. The dull pains that lingered everywhere reminded her of the irreversible reality. The Archbishop's words, that marriage is a journey of mutual dependence on one another, seemed to be true.
Bjorn left Erna, half-conscious and curled up in the dead of night, behind. It felt wrong, but the relief that it was finally over finally erased those doubts.
Erna stared blankly at the heartless back of his head as he walked away without a single glance back. She heard the door to the passageway connecting the couple's bedroom close, and closed her eyes. The thought of cleaning up the messy bed and body crossed her mind, but she couldn't move a finger. That was the last memory of their first night.
Since you went out, I think you'll be back around dinner time.
Erna longed for him to return, but the moment she faced Bjorn upon his return was terrifying and overwhelming. Seized by a strange, indescribable feeling, Erna buried her face in a pile of pillows.
Bjorn was affectionate. And ruthless. Warm and yet ruthless. It's strange how such disparate qualities can coexist in one person, yet neither one felt like a fabrication.
The more she looks at him, the less she knows about him.
After much thought, Erna fell into a deep sleep amidst the vain conclusion she had reached.
Perhaps because her mind was in disarray, she had a nightmare. It was a dream in which she was eaten alive by a large white wolf.
***
The Grand Duke's carriage returned to Schwerin Palace just as the western sky began to turn crimson. Aside from a slight fatigue from his busy schedule, he appeared as usual.
After exchanging brief greetings with the attendants who had come out to greet him, Bjorn strode briskly across the entrance hall. Madame Fitz followed closely behind him, her footsteps unusually firm today.
"Her Highness is asleep in her bedroom. I told her to rest comfortably, as she seemed unwell."
“Ah. Yes.”
“You’ve just completed the big task of getting married. How about taking a few days to relax?”
There was a strange thorn in the question that was asked indirectly.
“I will enjoy my break on my honeymoon.”
“Isn’t that honeymoon still two weeks away, Your Highness?”
A faint wrinkle formed between Madam Fitz's brows. A faint smile played on Bjorn's lips as he glanced at his nanny's complexion.
“So now you’ve decided to side with the Grand Duchess?”
"Yes?"
“Madam Fitz, there’s no way you wouldn’t know that a honeymoon isn’t just a honeymoon.”
Pausing on the landing, Bjorn turned to face Madam Fitz. His face still held a faint smile, but his gaze, fixed directly on his nanny, was no longer a smile.
Although it was formally a honeymoon, it was actually closer to an overseas tour leading a diplomatic delegation.
Given the complex intertwining of political dynamics and the balance of power between continental nations, securing a solid alliance was crucial. Ironically, Bjorn was the perfect candidate for this task thanks to his abdication of the crown. While a visit from a King or Crown Prince often involved significant political action, the actions of a Prince absconding from the throne could be far more casual. Adding the plausible pretext of a honeymoon to the mix, there was no better opportunity for political sleuthing. Adding personal matters and monitoring the financial markets of each country, the journey became quite complex.
“You know perfectly well why I have to be busy meeting the sullen old men of the council the day after my wedding, but there must be a reason why you keep talking nonsense.”
“Your Highness...”
"You're abandoning me because of a one-day-old Grand Duchess. I'm starting to feel a little resentful."
Bjorn's intentions were conveyed more clearly through his attitude, which was a mixture of lighthearted jokes and laughter.
Up to here.
Madam Fitz, sensing the clearly drawn line, quickly took a step back.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
“Don’t do that. Between us.”
This time, Bjorn grinned, like the boy he was in his childhood, and began climbing the stairs with a brisk stride. Madam Fitz, swallowing her prepared words, followed him, relaying a perfectly routine report.
“Oh, Madam Fitz.”
He sat cross-legged on a chair by the bedroom window, opened the envelope of the letter he had received, and called out to his nanny.
“As you said, there is still a fortnight left, so teach my wife.”
"Yes?"
“Since my wife doesn’t have an adult in her family to teach her the ways of the bedroom, shouldn’t someone else take on the job?”
The brazen command, delivered in a monotonous, calm voice, momentarily stunned Madam Fitz. But she composurely obeyed her master's wishes.
"Yes. I will contact the royal family and have them summon the right person. By the way, Your Highness."
“Please speak.”
Bjorn nodded as he read the letter.
“Why did you choose the current Grand Duchess as your wife?”
Madam Fitz, who had been staring blankly at the Prince she had raised with her own hands but whose true nature she could not fathom, asked a question. She knew it was presumptuous, but her doubts were now too strong to suppress.
“Erna...”
Bjorn put down the letter he'd finished reading and opened the envelope containing the next letter. The sunset shattered into tiny pieces as it struck the loosely held blade of the paper knife.
“Well, because she's pretty.”
Bjorn calmly gave an answer that took the other person's breath away.
“Your Highness.”
“She's pretty, Erna.”
Bjorn unfolded the letter and nodded nonchalantly.
“Isn’t that so?”
Madam Fitz couldn't give any answer to the Prince's question, which was making her head spin.
One evening, when she suddenly felt like seeking God, the autumn evening sunset was so beautiful that she couldn't help but notice it.
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