Melody (3)

Bellavarn tossed his many outfits onto the bed. He really didn't have a style. He liked comfortable. And the old Bellavarn seemed to mimic him. Except that now, he had no clue what to wear to dinner. What was formal? What was acceptable. For someone who just recovered... would it be acceptable to wear loose clothing? It was just a family dinner; his parents were good people. His father was particularly kind. Bellavarn regretted he hadn't had the chance to meet his mother but gathered she was a wonderful person from Melody's descriptions.

Thinking back on the entire week spent in isolation, Bellavarn had no idea how it happened to fast. Just a week. During that time, it was just frivolities and shoulder bumping. But...

Was it Bellavarn who was feeling this way? He should know better. And that wasn't his first kiss... it was Sallow's.

Something was...

The cold absence on his lips burned. Would he ever feel otherwise? Maybe wrapping Melody in his arms would cure him? His smile slid back into place at the thought.

Clothes though. He was stuck between a comfortable green outfit or a more respectable and form-fitting navy blue one. Darn. He should have asked Melody.

The doors to his room opened.

"Father! I was just about to come to dinner. I was having trouble picking an outfit. What would be appropriate..."

His father was silent as he walked up to him, Braster Sallow as a thin man with close-cropped blond hair and a goatee. His eyes a piercing ice blue. He wore prim and proper clothes, the correct and only choice for clothing among the nobility. Braster Sallow walked up to his son and just stared, which confused Bellavarn slightly.

"Father? What is it? I'm all better now, see? Healthy as a horse."

Bellavarn bounced on his feet and stretched a few times, showing off his maneuverability. He stopped when he saw the mask of his father.

"What? What has happened? Is it mother? She never visited so I've been worried..."

Bellavarn felt his blood cool in his veins as his father examined him. He was entirely unreadable. This wasn't how he imagined meeting his father face to face for the first time. Their conversations through the door had always been light and carefree. Now...

Now alarm bells rang as he began panicking internally.

When his father spoke, it was in a measured tone that brooked no argument or deviation from the conversation's intended line.

"Tell me what happened. What really happened."

Bellavarn's brows furrowed in confusion. Could he have caught on he was never sick? Did... did Melody let it slip? Bellavarn needed clarification, even if it would cost him some trust.

"About what, father?"

He winced as Braster's eyebrow twitched.

"About the girl."

"Melody? What do you- I mean. Nothing. Really. She has been incredibly helpful this past week. I was hoping we could give her some kind of bonus."

Bellavarn realized he should be answering more simply and firmly, but this was the most flustering encounter in his short re-life.

"You didn't do anything to her?"

"What? No. I didn't. I know you want me to find someone, and I think I am starting to like Melody. A lot, actually."

Reiss rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. He went on.

"I had trouble getting back on my feet and she was very understanding and helpful. I didn't intend for anything to happen at first, but we became closer the past week. I didn't expect <i>her</i> to be the one to kiss <i>me</i>... She ran away immediately after though. It flustered me, but looking back, it was actually quite cute of her-"

"You never laid a finger on her?"

"What? No, father. I never intended for anything to even happen. Truly."

Looking into Braster's deep blue eyes chilled him. It was like his soul was open for reading. There was a long silence as his father eyed him but said no words. Bellavarn gulped under pressure but otherwise didn't move or speak. Breaking the silence could summon an earthquake for all he knew.

After what felt like hours, Braster's gaze softened and he embraced Bellavarn. His father was actually slightly shorter than him, so he reached his arms up to hug him. The embrace was as tight as it was short. His father pulled away before he could shut his open mouth.

"I am sorry I doubted you, son. I know you are a good man."

"Father, I-"

"Shush... We have a problem. Melody went to your mother, and she is inclined to believe the young girl's words. Hells, I believed them until just now. I am sorry again, son."

He apologized twice. Twice! For a duke to apologize, even to his son, was beyond most's imagination. Yet. He did so twice.

What the hell has happened.

=

Bellavarn followed in his father's steps. He still wore the loose nightshirt from when he was studying, not having time to change as his father stormed out of his room with a command to follow. They passed a few of the staff as they made their way.

"Father, I don't know what happened, but before we get wherever we are going, I have to confess something."

Braster turned on a heel, halting immediately and causing a near collision.

"What?"

His gaze was icy again. Bellavarn inhaled a deep breath but knew that the truth, or at least the closest version of it, would be best going forward.

"I did lie. About being sick, that is. I wasn't. A week ago when I woke up and Melody brought me breakfast..."

=

"Amnesia?"

"Yes! I couldn't remember who I was. I was terrified of what would happen. It was clear I was of noble birth so I knew appearances mattered. If someone got wind of it, it could have caused problems for you. I didn't want to be a burden, so I recruited Melody to teach me things. We spent the last week writing and learning the language. It was only at the end that..."

He trailed off, not knowing where else to go. Whatever was happening, whatever was going on. His father had accepted him and believed his words—a stranger. At least in Bellavarn's eyes.

"Is that everything?"

"Yes. As far as I can remember, yes. It was actually an amazing experience meeting you, again, that is."

Braster gave the smallest of smirks.

"Alright, thank you. Knowing that will help. Let us hurry to your mother. Things may have escalated in my absence."

=

Father and son arrived at the entrance hall. They stood on the landing of a grand staircase, looking over the banister. Bellavarn could make out a small group. The doors to the mansion were wide open, letting in the cold weather—guards in metal armor clustered in the doorway. Servants and staff were spaced around the edges of the room. In the center of it all were two figures.

The first was a regal looking woman in a heavy fur coat. Her blond hair shone white with the reflection of winter snow. Her skin fair and her features perfect. Bellavarn assumed she was his mother. She fit the bill and was as beautiful as Melody described, even wrapped in winter furs.

His mother huddled against the second figure. He recognized the figure as it could be no one else. She was wrapped in a wool blanket and was shivering. Bellavarn spotted her disheveled hair and the monochrome choker she wore. Melody glanced up and met his blue eyes.

She screamed.

=

"For God's sake, close the door, Oslo! Hush now, child, you are alright, you are safe."

Bellavarn felt the world turn as he watched Melody crawl back away from his direction, screaming in hysteria.

"Melody."

It came out as a whisper. His arm reached out. He was about to take a step, but a firm hand landed on his chest. Bellavarn turned to his father with pleading eyes.

"Hold. This has become a spectacle. Allow me to do the talking. Keep silent if you can."

The cold eyes that seemed to pierce his soul earlier now felt so solid and comforting that Bellavarn actually managed to slow his racing heart. He felt like he could his father was unshakable. A lifeline. And Bellavarn, he hung on for dear life.

His father went first, down one side of the staircase.

"Trisha, I've brought him."

"I can see that! It's only made the situation worse. There, come on, look at me, look at me. See... there? You are safe. Just sit tight and stay behind me. Okay? Okay."

Trisha Sallow stood to her full height, facing off against father.

"No explanation can excuse this kind of harm. What has Bellavarn done?"

"He has done nothing. He is innocent. He had his heart stolen, nothing more."

"Innocent? Innocent! Look at her. She can't stop trembling. She panicked when spotting Bellavarn. What other evidence is needed? Should I show you the layers of bruises? The cuts and abrasions? The swollen eye?

Braster kept his eyes on his wife. Bellavarn stared.

Melody? Sweet, innocent Melody?

Now, he saw one of her eyes was puffed up. Blood trickled onto the stone floor, her feet cut from stepping on glass. The bruises on her legs...

His blood boiled as his imagination took horrid turns.

"Not satisfied! What about the blood? Not all of it comes from cuts. Some of it is deeper, more personal!"

Bellavarn felt the bubbles popping. Blood? BLOOD? From... NO. No. No, no, no one gets away. There will be hell to pay. He could feel the pot boil over, hot tears running down his face as he looked at the sweet maid who ran away with his healing heart. The difference was too much. Too much to bear in silence.

"Who?"

He whispered.

"Who did this?"

His voice was unnaturally steady for the amount of vehemence coating his words.

"Who harmed her? Who did it? Who dared! Who-"

He tried to move closer, but Melody started screaming again, clawing to get away.

"Enough of that! You've done enough damage without trying to harass her."

His mother's fury didn't register as he stood there with his hand outstretched. He stared at Melody's form and wept. Bellavarn plummeted to his knees, tears creating permanent tracks down his face.

"Do you see him? How torn up he is? How can he fake that?"

"How can a young girl fake a brutal assault and ****!"

They began arguing with one another. The guards shifted uncomfortably and the staff all whispered to one another—each forming their own opinions.

Bellavarn lost contact with it all. His vision blurry from tears. Everything lost color; it turned monochrome. Like Melody's dress...

...Her former dress that lay in tatters nearby.

The pain was too much for him. The days spent together. Laughing at silly things as they talked. Accidentally brushing up against one another in their study sessions, both pretending to ignore the contact.

That bright smile that lit up his day.

Her blushing face hiding underneath her bangs.

The warmth of lips on his.

The cold absence.

The longing.

And the image before him.

It didn't mesh.

It wasn't real. It couldn't be. It was fake... Fiction. Fake! His father. Mother. The mansion. A new life as a duke's son. He was still hanging from his ceiling fan, in his death throes as his life came to an end. Bellavarn was dead. He died that day. He was dead. Should be dead. Dead. Dead... Gone.

"Melody."

He collapsed.