Natural Selection

by sinemoras09

Summary:

Cracky sequel to the angsty oneshot, Sex Pollen, where Shuri and Richelieu are splashed with poison outside the confessional booth, but now Shuri finds she's pregnant. Crack. Spoilers for chapter 133. Explicit content clearly marked. Complete.

Notes:

So, I'd written the oneshot Sex Pollen, where Richelieu and Shuri are splashed by the stuff by one of Richelieu's enemies; in the fic, they're locked in the Church, and after trying to fight it, they end up succumbing to its effects and having sex. This fic is the cracky continuation of this, where Shuri ends up getting pregnant. Regardless, this fic won't make any sense without having read the first.

I'd initially thought of just expanding the original fic and adding drabbles to it, but I liked that fic as a standalone, plus I want to re-work it and add more smut to it. Once I add the PWP parts I'll probably repost that oneshot here as a separate chapter.

Chapter 1: Pregnant

"Your Eminence. I think I'm pregnant," Shuri said.

They had met in the confession booth again. Across from her, she could just barely see Richelieu's silhouette. The dark shape obscured by the screen separating them, backlit from the gap of light filtering through the slats of the confessional door.

"Your Eminence?" Shuri glanced back at the screen and at the side of Richelieu's profile, which was unmoving. Head bowed as if he were still listening. "Your Eminence, say something." Tears filled her eyes and she lifted a shaky hand to her face. "I'm frightened," she said, and she started crying. "I didn't want for this to happen--"

There was a sound, the wooden door opening roughly. Shuri clutched her belly and wept, doubling over. Of course he would ignore her!

The door to Shuri's side opened, and Shuri looked up, blinking at the wash of light suddenly flooding into the compartment. Richelieu loomed over her.

"It seems my enemies have found a way to get rid of me permanently," Richelieu said.

"Your Eminence?"

"I will leave the Church," Richelieu said. He stepped closer to her, getting on his knees so that he was eye-level to her. "There is a child now. I won't abandon him, you needn't worry."

Tears filled Shuri's eyes, and she let out a choked sob.

"I don't want to marry you, Your Eminence!" she cried, but Richelieu moved forward to hold her. She wept miserably against him.

His voice was soft, as if he were trying to soothe her. "You are carrying my child. You have no choice in the matter."

"I hate you." Fat tears rolled down the sides of her cheeks, but she still felt a sense of relief. She had half expected Richelieu to use the opportunity to further shame the Neuschwansteins, maybe even try to get everyone to think that she was carrying Jeremy's baby.

"This is not ideal for me either," Richelieu said.

"You don't blame me?" she pulled back to look at him. "I was the one who climbed onto you, and--"

"I wanted it too, Lady Neuschwanstein."

Shuri's eyes flicked upwards, meeting his. "As I said," Richelieu said, and his voice was rough with emotion, "We were both beset by its effects."

She'd hated him. She'd hated how he'd tormented her, how she was nothing but a target. But the sense memory of their bodies colliding, the heady rush from the poison and the sheer relief at finally being joined, made all that melt for the moment. She sank into him, tucking her face into his chest, and found she was grateful for him.

 

*****

 

The accusations of incest with Jeremy were dropped, Richelieu smoothly and convincingly telling everyone he was the lady's lover, and that she was carrying his child.

"You?" Cardinal Braun sputtered. "Her lover?"

"Or perhaps you would believe that we were poisoned, and that we had to save ourselves through sinful fornication?"

Cardinal Braun blanched. Richelieu stared at him, then swept his gaze across the gathering of cardinals.

"I am not making those accusations," Richelieu said. "But I'm a God-fearing man and I will always follow the path to righteousness."

The deacon wept. He knew the truth behind all of this. Richelieu sat down next to him.

"It was either that or death," Richelieu said under his breath. The deacon nodded, his buggy eyes red and swollen.

"What shall I do now?" the deacon said.

"Continue to serve God as you are."

 

*****

 

"I'd like to be your servant!" the deacon said, as Shuri gaped at him. "I'm good with animals and horses, and oh! Alberon's my best friend, I can work with the knights and tend to them!"

"Uh," Shuri glanced at Richelieu, who sighed and shook his head.

"What happened to your devotion to God?" Richelieu said. The deacon sparkled.

"I'll still worship God through good thoughts and actions!"

"I think you should just stay a deacon," Shuri said.

 

 

Chapter 2: Her Feral Children

"I'm gonna kill him!" Jeremy said.

He launched across the table as Leon and Elias grabbed him by the arms to hold him back.

"Wait!" Leon said. "Remember what happened with the Crown Prince!"

"Fuck that guy! Fuck him!" Jeremy said, but he yanked his arms out from Elias and Leon's grasp, glaring at Richelieu as he stood in front of him, impassive.

"And you wonder the basis for those rumors of incest," Richelieu dryly said. Jeremy's nostrils flared as he hurled himself across the table again.

"Calm down!" Elias said, and Leon struggled, holding Jeremy back.

"He's blackmailing Mother! How the fuck can I calm down?!"

"Jeremy," Shuri said. "This was both mine and Erwin's decision."

"Erwin?" Jeremy scoffed. "The fuck is 'Erwin'?" Shuri's eyes slid toward Richelieu and nodded toward him. Jeremy scoffed again. "Your name is fucking 'Erwin'?"

"Ew," Rachel said. Shuri sighed and shook her head.

"His Eminence is renouncing his vows. I told you, we were both splashed with Sex Pollen, we would have died if we didn't do this."

"And now you're fucking pregnant," Jeremy said.

"Yes," Shuri said. Jeremy gestured.

"Do you love him?!" Jeremy said. ("You see why it was so easy to bring those charges?" Richelieu said.)

"Of course not! But I'm a single woman, it'll be a scandal when people find out I'm pregnant."

"You are in love with him!" Jeremy said.

"Jeremy, don't be ridiculous. I'm devastated," Shuri said, and Richelieu threw a quick glance at her as her face wrenched. "You think I want this?" she asked. "His Eminence could have blamed me for what happened, but he didn't, and for that I'm grateful to him."

"So because he wasn't a complete bastard, you're going to go off and marry him?”

"Yes," Shuri said. Her eyes were swollen and her nose was red. She sniffled and Jeremy felt horrible for making her cry again.

"Marry me instead," Jeremy said.

"W-what?"

"Well now," Richelieu said.

"Oh just shut up, Your Eminence," Shuri said.

"Shuri, I'm serious." Jeremy took her hand. "There was already going to be a trial. We're not related. I'm only a year younger than you, people already think we're lovers! And we don't have to do anything, but at least you won't have to marry him."

"I see now why Johannes married you. The boy is an idiot," Richelieu said.

"I wasn't talking to you!" Jeremy snapped.

"Jeremy, he's right," Shuri said. "They'd ruin our family if we were found guilty of incest. We'd lose our name and all your inheritance."

"It wouldn't be so bad," Jeremy muttered. Leon turned toward them.

"Mother. I know this was an unavoidable situation. And Your Eminence, I thank you for not abandoning our Mother. I know it must have been a difficult decision."

Richelieu nodded at him. Leon turned.

"Jeremy, I think Mother is doing her best," Leon said.

"Your balls haven't even dropped yet," Elias said.

"Elias!" Shuri said. Elias grumbled. Jeremy glared at all of them.

"I'm with Jeremy, I don't like it," Elias said. Rachel sat up.

"Why doesn't Mama just marry Nora? Or do you think he won't want to knowing Mama's pregnant?"

"Why are they all acting like this is some sort of negotiation?" Richelieu said. Shuri sighed and shook her head.

 

 

Chapter 3: Nora

Notes:

rape mention

"I would marry you, Lady Shu," Nora said.

They were sitting on top of a grassy hill overlooking the village when Shuri told him. The sky was a bright blue, and the clay roofs of the village seemed to sparkle in the afternoon light below them. The wind stirred, and as Shuri looked up, there were strands of sunlight around Nora's hair, and his blue eyes were locked into hers, sincere.

"I can't," Shuri said, and Nora bowed his head. "It's Richelieu's child. He wants to raise him."

Nora nodded. Shuri could see the muscle of his jaw clench and unclench, and the light behind those blue eyes dim.

"I love you, Lady Shu."

"Nora--"

"I just want what's best for you." Nora smiled, tears pricking his eyes as he looked at her. "I know you weren't happy with your first marriage. I don't want you to go through that again in your second."

Shuri lowered her head. "I don't know," Shuri said. She pressed her hand to her abdomen. "But he's this child's father, Nora. I have to marry him."

"Would you marry a man who'd raped you?" Jeremy had asked, when he and Shuri were alone again. "Why are you so hung up on His Eminence? You have lots of options."

She couldn't tell either of them that there was still that frisson of heat between them. That ever since the poisoning, she'd yearned to press herself against him. She'd been relieved that His Eminence suggested marriage, but bearing a child out of wedlock was not the only reason.

But now she looked at Nora and realized if this didn't happen, she would have married him. Tears filled her eyes for all that would not come to pass between them.

Nora held her as Shuri wept quietly against him.

 

 

Chapter 4: Sequelae of Poison

Notes:

Flashback chapter

In the days following the Sex Pollen attack, Richelieu prayed, mortified the flesh, and fasted. There were none among him righteous enough to hear his confession - in point of fact, he wasn't sure which of his enemies had targeted him. He only saw their stricken faces as the doors to the Holy Conclave burst open, and he'd strode inside, his face a practiced mask, and sat among them. Which one of these corrupt men had sought to get rid of him?

The nights were the worst. He lay in the darkness where his wicked mind replayed all the sinful things that had passed between them. The scent of her skin and that sweet softness. How she had clung to him in her desperation.

The crack of the whip sang. Richelieu bowed his head, drops of bright sweat mixing with the blood on his back. He could blame her for seducing him, but this wasn't true. He'd succumbed to his desire and yearning for her.

The Church was quiet when he saw her again; dressed in black, a veil covering her face, she looked exactly the same as that day they'd both been splashed with poison. She lifted her head, and wordlessly they both went into the booth for confession.

"I want to apologize, Your Eminence." Her voice was soft behind the latticed partition. "It was my fault this happened."

"It was the fault of my enemies, Lady Neuschwanstein. You were as much a victim."

She bowed her head. Richelieu couldn't see her face save for the soft dapples of amber light filtering through the partition.

"I will take your advice and plead guilty for conduct unbefitting of a lady," Lady Neuschwanstein said.

"I am glad to hear it," Richelieu said.

The silence felt heavy and oppressive.

"I'm sorry," Lady Neuschwanstein said again, and Richelieu saw her shoulders hunch as she curled into herself, a protective movement. "I can't stop thinking about it."

His breath in his throat caught. Was she as consumed by desire as he had been? He didn’t dare ask her this.

"Let us not speak of it," Richelieu said. Further rumination would be dangerous. Behind the partition, Lady Neuschwanstein nodded.

"Thank you for not telling anyone, Your Eminence."

"You forget, my lady. I also have need to safeguard my reputation."

 

*****

 

"Your Eminence, I must speak to you, it is urgent."

It was in the middle of mass, in front of a group of nobles, no less. Richelieu cast a quick glance at the back of the church, then nodded. "You may speak with me in confession."

"Yes, Your Eminence." She bowed her head at him.

She was acting deferential and suspiciously nervous. Richelieu watched as the lady twisted the bottoms of her sleeves in an agitated movement.

He motioned for her to follow him, and as the nobles chatted amongst themselves, they slid into the privacy of the confession booth.

"Your Eminence, I think I'm pregnant!" she blurted, and she started to cry across the partition.

Richelieu's throat tightened.

"Your Eminence? Your Eminence, say something. I'm frightened--" she started crying harder. "I didn't want for this to happen!"

If not for the partition, he would throw his arms around her. Give into the silent screaming of his body that wanted nothing more than to hold her. His hands were shaking as he shoved the door open, striding toward her side of the booth.

 

*****

 

He'd kissed her. After her anguished confession, he'd strode across the booth, promised her he'd marry her, and then he kissed her. When they pulled apart, Shuri looked up at him, confusion and desire and a calming relief parading across her face.

"I've wanted you," he said hoarsely, and he pressed his forehead against hers. Closing his eyes, he relished her scent and her closeness. She reached up and cupped his face.

"I want you too. Is this because of the poison?"

"Ever since the moment I first saw you," he said.

"Oh," Shuri said, and she began to cry again, this time out of relief that he'd shared her feelings for him.

In the eyes of the Lord, they had already consummated their union, but Richelieu pulled back. He pressed his calloused palm against the softness of Shuri's cheek, breathing heavily but willing himself to go no further.

"I must be released from my vows first," he said. Shuri nodded. He pressed his forehead again against hers.

 

*****

 

It was a complicated mix of emotions.

Would the effects of the poison wear off? Shuri paced, rubbing her arms. Was her feelings for him because she was still delirious? And what did he mean when he'd said he'd wanted her since he'd met her? Wasn't she just a useful pawn, a means to an end?

"You were beautiful and untouchable and I resented you for tempting me from my faith in God," Richelieu said. Shuri knitted her brow.

"Really? I thought you were targeting me because I was a weak widow."

"I would have rather had nothing to do with you, but I worked at the behest of Pope Eugene."

"I see," Shuri said. She leaned against him. There was an easy physicality between them, which was the result of the poison. It was as if they were physically bonded.

"What about becoming pope and your fight against Church corruption?" she asked, looking up at him. Richelieu considered.

"Apparently my calling as a father was more matrimonial than ecclesiastical," he said.

"You don't regret it?" she asked. Richelieu sighed and stroked her head.

"God gave us this child. He'd always meant for us to walk the same path."

Shuri nodded against him.

 

 

Chapter 5: Culprit

Notes:

Flashback chapter

“I have just the thing for you,” the apothecary said. He was a wizened old man with a hood and claw-like nails on his hand. Meissner shuddered, politely holding his breath, for the apothecary was unwashed and had the rank odor of soiled clothes and rancid sweat. The apothecary slowly dug through his sack as Meissner waited, furtively pressing a handkerchief to his nose.

“There,” the apothecary said. He held out a vial in his grimy hand.

“This is a poison, then?”

“The worst of poisons. It makes the victims fall prey to their desires and induces in them a fevered delirium. It is fatal if they don’t act on them.”

“Excellent!” Meissner said. He took the vial from him. “Either he dies because he’s too stubborn to succumb to those urges, or he falls like a beast and we have a means to blackmail him!”

They called it Sex Pollen, so named from the yellow grains delicately harvested from the purple flowers in the nearby forest. Farmers used it on their studs, encouraging them to mate; where only a few grains were enough to make the animals amorous, the whole vial of distilled poison could kill a bull with just a few drops in their pen.

“Richelieu you bastard. I will get my revenge!” Meissner said. He cackled at the vial, delighted.

There was a basin of holy water by the entrance of the church. Congregants could dip their fingers into the consecrated bowl and perform the sign of the cross, and Meissner did the same, glancing behind him to make sure no other parishioners were coming. No one was. He slipped one drop, then two, then topped the entire vial into the basin before scurrying into an empty pew. He pulled his cloak over his head and pretended to pray, knowing Richelieu would be handling the confession booth.

There was the sound of tense voices, perhaps in the middle of an argument. Meissner lifted his eyes and from the back of the church could see Lady Neuschwanstein storming out of the booth.

This was his chance! Meissner picked up the basin, the two of them too occupied by their fight to notice him striding quickly toward them.

Splash! They whipped around, but not before Meissner sprinted out of the church, slamming the heavy door shut and pulling an iron chain through the handles. He closed the padlock just as Richelieu caught up. The door banged, then violently jiggled. Meissner laughed out loud, a full, gleeful laugh, before dragging a heavy stone cross to further barricade them in.

“Is it done?” Cardinal Braun said. Meissner cackled.

“He’s with the lady now. I expect when you become pope, you’ll restore me as cardinal and revoke my excommunication.”

“I would have done so even without your help,” Braun said, smiling. Messier laughed.

“And I would have poisoned this bastard anyway! A proverbial killing with two stones!”

 

*****

 

“I think they’re dead,” Braun said. Meissner pressed his ear against the door.

“I think I still hear them,” Meissner said. He moved upwards, irritated. “What is wrong with him? A beautiful woman is throwing herself at him! And he’d rather die than deflower a willing virgin!”

“She is not the only virgin,” Braun sniffed, contemptuous. They both waited at the door again.

“It’s been hours! The midnight bell has tolled. They’ll both be dead in the morning, I’m going home.”

 

*****

 

The next day, Richelieu showed up at the Holy Conclave, his face as pinched and severe as ever.

“Who let him out?!” Meissner said, meeting Braun in a dark corner of the church. Braun shook his head.

“Apparently one of his hands and feet did.”

“Damn it!” Meissner said, and they both crossed themselves, for corruption and bribery were one thing, but taking the Lord’s name in vain was something else entirely.

Chapter 6: Culprit, part 2

Notes:

Flashback cont’d

“I know you slept with her!” Meissner said. Richelieu looked at him with a bored expression.

“Your ranting has grown desperate. Perhaps time away from the church has addled your head.”

“Do not deny it! I poured a whole vial of poison in that chalice! That you’re alive tells me you willingly fornicated!”

“Did you just admit to using poison?” Richelieu seemed amused. “Very well. I shall inform the imperial guards after going to confession.”

“You won’t dare tell them! I know you care too much about your reputation!”

“I shall tell them now,” Richelieu said. Meissner sputtered. Richelieu smirked at him. “You seem to forget, Meissner. Fornication can be forgiven, but poisoning is a capital offense.”

Meissner blanched. “You have no proof of what I did.”

“Nor do you have proof I’ve fornicated. I assume you were too slothful to wait and bring the necessary witnesses.”

Meissner let out an angry cry as Richelieu sniffed arrogantly at him.

 

******

 

“He left?” Meissner looked up from the wooden table as Braun grinned at him. They were in the middle of a no-name tavern in one of the more unsavory districts on the outskirts of the capital. Meissner had been in a funk, indulging his sour mood by partaking in all his vices. He’d been several pitchers into getting massively drunk when Braun gave him the good news.

“He’s been defrocked? Are you serious Braun?”

“As God’s witness. He got the lady pregnant.”

Meissner let out a triumphant shout.

“Even better,” Braun added, sliding into the seat across from him, “you and I aren’t implicated. He claimed he and the lady have been lovers, to dissuade the rumors of incest.”

“Hoisted by his own petard then! Excellent!”

They laughed as Meissner motioned for the waitress to bring another glass, for this was cause for raucous celebration!

"Celebration?" someone said, and Meissner and Braun looked up. "Did you just say celebration for a successful poisoning?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes," Meissner said testily. He turned to Braun when the man wrenched Meissner's hand behind his back. "Oi--"

"You're under arrest, by order of the emperor," the man said, and Meissner and Braun both reared upward.

More men came and shoved them back down again.

 

****

 

"I've always known I was surrounded by half-wits," Richelieu said, watching as Braun and Meissner were hauled out of the tavern. All it took was a sincere confession to Pope Eugene, who still believed Richelieu was loyal to him - he'd confessed to unwitting fornication, the result of the effects of poison. "Now, I fear, the lady is pregnant," Richelieu had said. Pope Eugene's face was pinched. "I shall have a word with the emperor about this," Eugene said.

Richelieu had bowed. He kept his face in a neutral expression; it wasn't until Pope Eugene left that his mouth twitched into a grin.

("Once you marry her, you will be in a prime position to corrupt the Lion!" Eugene said, rubbing his hands. "The Holy Mother thanks you for your sacrifice. This surely has secured your place in heaven!"

"Oh, yes," Richelieu said, deadpan. Shuri later sighed and shook her head at him.)

Chapter 7: Machinations

"I told him I will dispel the incest rumors by telling the masses I was your lover," Richelieu said. "His Holiness agreed. He believes you would be so grateful, you would willingly cede control of the Neuschwanstein estate to me."

Shuri's eyebrow twitched. "Your Eminence, should you be telling me this?"

"You are the mother of my child. Why wouldn't I tell you this?"

Shuri rubbed her head. "What if he finds out you're helping me?" she asked. Richelieu sniffed.

"If he does, I will explain to him that in order to gain your trust, I simply pretended to betray him."

Shuri gave him a blank look. "So how do I know you're not pretending with me?"

"You don't," Richelieu said.

Shuri frowned at him. Richelieu spread his hands.

"Eugene is corrupt. I intend to make the deacon pope."

"What?" Shuri said.

"The deacon," Richelieu repeated. "He is a pure soul, though easily manipulated. I have helped shepherd him through seminary and soon he will be a full-fledged priest. I have already planted the seed in His Holiness's head that the deacon should be promoted to bishop."

"Really?"

"I told him he is a simple pawn, one who would be useful to him," Richelieu said. "Give it a year or two and he will be a cardinal, I guarantee it."

"And they'll vote for him as pope?"

"Because they'll think he'll be easily manipulated without me to protect him." Richelieu grinned. "But they will not know that I was the one who installed him."

Chapter 8: Hands (cuddling/fluff)

"Let me see your hands," Shuri said, and Richelieu dutifully held them out to her.

His hands were rough and covered with scars. Gingerly, Shuri took his right hand, then rubbed her thumb along the flat patch of callus across the underside of his knuckles, just at the bottoms of his fingers. His fingers, too, had the light cross-hatches of old wounds, silky and thin, as if he'd been caned with the end of a ruler or switch.

"Did these hurt?" Shuri asked. She turned his hand over, running the pad of her thumb along a smooth pink scar. "How did you get them?"

"It seems I irritated the nuns," Richelieu said. Shuri raised her eyebrows at him.

"I thought maybe you'd whipped yourself on your hand," Shuri said.

"Of course not. Flogging one's back is the proper way of mortification."

She made a face at him.

There was so much she didn't know about him. At night, Shuri lay on his chest and surprised herself at how comfortable it felt with her face pressed against his neck. His body was warm and big and the rhythm of his breathing was soothing, nevermind just a few short weeks ago they were enemies.

"Is it strange that I'm comfortable with you?" she asked. Her voice was soft in the darkness. "I barely know you."

"What is it you want to know?"

Shuri shifted. Richelieu turned slightly to face her, and a strand of dark hair fell over his cheek.

"Your face is so thin," Shuri said. She reached up to touch the hollow angle under his cheekbone. "You should eat something."

A soft smirk. "I do eat, my lady."

"What do you eat?"

"Coarse grains and water, mostly. Occasionally dried fruit or meat."

"Jeremy says you need to eat a lot of meat when one is training," Shuri said, and she nuzzled against him. Richelieu paused as if considering.

"This is true," he said. He sounded comfortable but tired.

"Is there anything you want to know about me?" Shuri asked.

Richelieu murmured, "I already know all there is to know about you."

"I find that highly doubtful."

His eyes slowly opened. Shuri didn't realize he had closed them, but in the dark, the slow opening of his eyes made her feel the intensity of his gaze as he studied her.

"You were the daughter of Herr Ighoffer," Richelieu murmured. "A fallen noble who lost his fortune gambling and to other vices. Your mother, in essence, sold you."

Shuri stiffened. Richelieu shifted her closer. "Forgive me," he said softly. "You asked me what I know about you."

"Is that all you know?" Shuri asked. She spoke against his collarbone. Richelieu considered.

"Would you like me to go into your late husband and his motivations? The resemblance to the late Empress?"

"I assume that is common knowledge," Shuri said, suddenly upset. Of course this is the sort of thing he'd know about her. Things that were hurtful, damaging to her.

"I know," he started, and he hesitated. "I know that you cried on the day of your wedding, but as you walked down the aisle, you hid your tears behind the veil."

Shuri shifted. "How did you--"

"I was there," he said, and Shuri creased her brow at him. He plucked a strand of hair from her face, quietly. "I saw you shortly after the wedding, just when you and your husband came to the church to pray. I'd frightened myself by how unable I was to take my eyes off you."

The words hung. Shuri searched his eyes, trying to read his face, but he was as expressionless as if he were reading a passage from the Bible. His eyes turned and Shuri felt herself flush as he looked at her. Carefully, tentatively, he reached out and caressed her face.

"So yes," he finished, and he let her hair trail between his fingers. "I do know quite a bit about you."

"That's only my looks, Your Eminence." Shuri's voice wavered, but her heart was beating fast in her chest. She felt her cheeks flush but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "You just admitted you were attracted to me. That doesn't mean you know me."

"You are pig-headed and stubborn, and you will stupidly sacrifice yourself for those of whom aren't even your family," Richelieu said. Shuri stiffened. "They take advantage of your kindness," Richelieu said, his voice lowering. "And you let them do so, because you love them."

Shuri's voice quivered. "I guess you've got me pegged, Your Eminence."

"I should assume so, or else I would be a poor excuse for a husband."

Shuri shifted, resting her cheek on the pillow, looking at him. "What about you? You don't regret any of this?" and he touched the flat of her stomach as if in answer.

"No," he said. His voice was soft. Gentle.

She touched the side of his face. His eyes were soft as he lay on his side, docile like a cat allowing a curious child to pet it. She traced the sharp angle of his jaw, the hollow under his cheekbone. Traced the corner of his mouth to the surprisingly pouty lip that begged to be suckled and kissed. She tilted her head and brushed her lips against his, swallowing his sigh of contentment.

"Can you swim?" she asked, and Richelieu let out a soft laugh. Shuri bit her lip, smiling. She'd never seen him smile before, let alone laugh, but his was soft and affectionate. He shifted her closer.

"I now am able to, should I need to. That was not the case when I was younger."

"Why don't you cut your hair?" she asked. He shrugged one shoulder.

"I can't be bothered to."

"I like your hair," Shuri confessed, and she suddenly felt foolish. He brushed a kiss against her forehead.

"I'm grateful that you do," he said, and their eyes met. Shuri blushed again.

"Your Eminence. I don't think I'd be with you if I weren't pregnant," she said.

"That is fine," Richelieu said. They softly kissed again.

"You like reading outside, don't you?" Shuri said. Richelieu made a sound of amusement.

"I do."

"I knew it!" Shuri said, and she beamed at him. "That time I saw you in the garden. I was so surprised, it was like walking into a vampire."

They kissed. It was a soft kiss, the kind that could go anywhere or nowhere. It stayed, layering into something warm and familiar.

 

 

Notes:

Monologue about seeing Shuri for the first time taken from the novel

Chapter 9: Hands, part 2

"I want to get to know you!" Shuri said. Richelieu looked confused.

He liked sitting outside on sunny days, and he liked to read in his free time. He knew several languages, was fluent in English and French in addition to their native German, and he could read in Latin and Greek and Hebrew as well as the Aramaic. He read tracts of poetry and philosophy when he wasn't studying.

He was not the type to get lonely. Sitting alone in his spare chambers, with nothing but his parchment and books, he would read until deep into the night, hunching over his desk and barely sleeping.

"And the whip?" Shuri asked, leaning against him. Richelieu held her.

"I did so whenever I thought of you."

She rewarded his confession by flopping her whole body on top of him, hugging him. Richelieu looked amused.

"Oh?" he asked, as she kissed and nuzzled him. "I see pity is quite the aphrodisiac for you."

"You should have said something," she said, hugging him. "We could have been friends."

"I was too busy trying to destroy you."

"Hmm."

Chapter 10: Empress

The wedding they had was quick - after Richelieu told Eugene what happened, he laicized Richelieu right there in his office ("all the better to trap the widow," Eugene said), and they said their vows with the deacon as witness. They were already married when the nobles caught wind of what happened - that, because of the rumors, Cardinal Richelieu was forced to make their love public.

"It's romantic," one of the noblewomen said, sighing into her fan. The Empress narrowed her eyes at them.

"What happened?" Elisabeth asked, cornering Shuri by the palace. It was a custom of the nobles to give a monetary gift to the Emperor and Empress in celebration of their marriage. Shuri swallowed.

"Sex Pollen," Shuri said, and her eyes lowered. "We don't know who did it."

Elisabeth's mouth thinned. "And I take it, after you survived, you found yourself pregnant."

"Yes."

Elisabeth sighed and touched her forehead. "If you had told me sooner, I would have approached Duke Nuremberg," Elisabeth said. "We could have arranged a proper marriage." Shuri's eyes widened.

"But Nora--"

"Nora has the same hair color as him." Elisabeth looked at her. "Although I suppose, your baby may have brown eyes instead of blue, which would be impossible with you two. In any case, we would have found you a suitable candidate, instead of you shackling yourself to Cardinal Richelieu."

"But Majesty, I'm already pregnant," Shuri said.

"You would be surprised how many men would be willing to turn a blind eye. A marriage candidate would have had access to the Neuschwanstein fortune. I'm certain if we told the right man you were pregnant, he'd be more than willing to overlook it," Elisabeth said. She mused.

"You and Theo could have had a brown-eyed, brown-haired child. His eyes are hazel," Elisabeth said. Shuri paled.

"You would have had me marry the Crown Prince, Your Majesty?"

"My dear girl," Elisabeth said, rising. "For you, we would have done everything."

The Empress's regretful tone, and her eyes full of worry, made Shuri start crying.

"That poor girl," Elisabeth said later, watching her with her husband as Shuri's small figure left the throne room. From far away, she could see Shuri talking to Cardinal Richelieu. His dark form seemed to swallow hers as he bent over her in concern.

"It seems like he cares for her," the Emperor said, nodding toward them. There was a scowl on Richelieu's face as Shuri laughed awkwardly at him, doubtless making excuses for her tears.

"She was a prize that fell into the lap of the Church," Elisabeth said darkly. "Doubtless they are taking advantage of the situation and are using her."

 

******

 

"Everything makes me cry, I'm pregnant," Shuri said, and Richelieu felt himself ping-ponging from wishing to depose the Emperor to wanting to throttle the Empress's neck.

"She would have you married off to the Crown Prince." His voice dripped with venom.

"She was just worried for me. You and I were known to be enemies," Shuri said. She laced her fingers shyly around his, and Richelieu found himself tugged toward her. "Please don't be angry," and she looked up at him entreatingly.

Richelieu sagged. "I am not angry. Merely vexed," he said. He shifted his grip so he was properly holding her hand.

 

*****

 

"You were the one who poisoned them?" the Empress asked. Meissner sweated. In the dank cell of the dungeon, the Empress stood over him, dark and terrible and looking to extract vengeance.

"He's being sent to a penal colony to work in another prison," Shuri said to Jeremy. "Apparently Her Majesty wanted to execute him."

("How come he's not in a penal colony?" Jeremy muttered. He was referring to Richelieu.)

 

 

Notes:

With Shuri (green eyes) and Richelieu (dark brown eyes), there'd be a 50% chance their baby would have brown eyes, 37.5% chance the baby would have green eyes, and 12.5% chance they'd have blue eyes.

If Shuri (green eyes) had a baby with Nora (blue eyes), there'd be a 50% chance the baby would have blue eyes, a 50% chance they'd have green eyes, and a zero percent chance they'd have brown eyes. So if an already pregnant-with-Richelieu's-baby Shuri married Nora, the chance she'd give birth to a brown-eyed baby would cause a scandal.

If Shuri (green eyes) married Theobald (hazel eyes), any eye color could be possible.

Chapter 11: Sex Pollen (explicit)

Notes:

Explicit version of the original fic, Sex Pollen. PWP, dub-con/non-con

This is what happened when they were splashed with Sex Pollen.

"We don't necessarily have to become enemies," Richelieu said.

Dark eyes bored into hers. Shuri swallowed.

A splash of something wet hit the both of them outside the confession booth. Richelieu reared back while Shuri flinched. There was the sound of footsteps running down the aisle of the Church.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Richelieu said, and he rushed after their assailant. Shuri sat shakily down on the steps outside the confession booth.

"What?!" Richelieu said. He tried opening the large wooden door, but it was locked. Someone had chained it shut. "It is locked."

"Your Eminence." Shuri was feeling hot. She felt shaky and short of breath. Her pupils were dilated. "What happened?"

Richelieu made an irritated tsk. "Sex Pollen," he gritted.

"W-what?"

"Obviously someone wants to catch me in the act of fornication!" He banged his hand on the door.

"Oh no," Shuri said. The veil was stifling. She pulled it off her head. "Isn't that the one where you die if you don't have sex?"

Richelieu banged his fist again on the door, then hung his head. He pressed his forehead against the cool wood of the door.

"You needn't worry," Richelieu said. He took a breath, then turned. "I shall administer your Last Rites. Your soul will still go to heaven."

"What?!"

"Allow me to give you Communion," Richelieu said. He reached toward her. Shuri smacked his hand.

"Are you crazy?! We're both going to die unless we have sex!"

"You are a virgin and I am a priest. Why should I break my vow of chastity for this?"

"Because we'll die." Shuri's voice was thin and tremulous. Richelieu took a breath.

He stalked around the pulpit. There were still consecrated wafers from the last service, which were nestled safely in a box meant to be delivered to the sick in such this instance. He murmured a blessing, opened the box, and held it up to her.

"Body of Christ," he said.

"I can't believe this."

"Body of Christ," he said again. A rivulet of sweat dripped down the side of Richelieu's forehead.

Shuri scowled. "I'm not taking that."

"I'm offering you reconciliation and apostolic pardon, and you would refuse it?" Richelieu stared at her. "How I would wish to be in your position. There is no one here to minister to me in my dying moment."

She slapped the Eucharist out of Richelieu's hand.

Richelieu cried out. The wafer fell on the floor; the Host had been desecrated. Carefully, Richelieu knelt and scooped the wafer up, then strode around the church to dissolve it in a chalice of holy water.

 

*****

 

"It's so hot," Shuri said. She'd already taken off the long-sleeved outer layer of her dress, exposing her arms, as she lay on the cool church floor, sweating. In front of her, Richelieu was sitting in a pew, his fist against his eyes and his teeth gritted. Every so often his hand would clench and unclench, and he would readjust himself, moving to a better position.

"Your face is flushed," Shuri said. Her lips parted. Her pupils were so dilated, the half-light of the Church looked flooded with bright light. The colors and shapes of things were beginning to look distorted. Her eyes landed on the curve of Richelieu's neck, how his hair stuck to his nape, which was glistening with sweat.

"Are we really going to die?"

"Yes," Richelieu said. Shuri laid back, looking up at the ceiling.

"I think I'd like those Last Rites," Shuri said. She turned to look at him. "Will you administer them?"

"Of course. Yes," Richelieu said. He stood, and as he moved both their eyes fell onto the telltale bulge of his erection.

He held out the Eucharist. Shuri opened her mouth and presented her tongue to receive it.

Richelieu trembled. He placed the Host in Shuri's mouth, watching her plush lips close as she took it.

"I shall anoint you with oil," Richelieu said. He held out a slim vial in his hand as he knelt above her, kneeling over Shuri's supine position. The oil coated the tips of his fingers. He brushed the oil along her forehead. His fingers trembled.

"Oh," Shuri said, because his touch was an electric shock. Her clitoris throbbed. She shifted her legs against the heat and wetness. "That felt good, Your Eminence."

Richelieu bowed his head.

"Into your hands, O Lord, we humbly entrust our sister. In this life you embraced her with your tender love; deliver her now from every evil and bid her enter eternal rest."

His voice quivered. Shuri tilted her head to the side and could see Richelieu struggling. A deep red flush was cracking across Richelieu's sallow cheeks.

"I don't want to die," Shuri said. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked up at him. "I've died before, but I don't know if I'll come back this time."

"God showed you His miracle. Only the faithful have hope for their immortal souls."

"I don't want to die!" Shuri cried. She started crying, clawing at the collar at her neck. The buttons popped. She pulled off the top of her shirt, exposing her chemise underneath. "Please help me, please, please."

"I shall loosen your clothing," Richelieu said. His hands ghosted over her shoulders.

Shuri gasped. Her skin prickled into gooseflesh. She felt her nipples hardening and her breasts heaving beneath the fabric.

Richelieu also seemed affected. He gritted his teeth, his hands shaking.

He slammed the glass vial on the ground, then clasped the sharp shards in his hand. Blood dripped down his shaking fist.

"Pain," Richelieu said. "It is a clarifying fire that will keep our souls clean."

"You're talking about clean souls, Your Eminence?" Shuri hiccuped and laughed, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Even after what you've done to me?" Her face wrenched. She started sobbing. "Please help me!"

"You must bear it," Richelieu said.

Shuri sobbed harder.

 

*****

 

Nighttime. Shuri moved in and out of consciousness.

Richelieu watched with darkened eyes, taking a perch on the pew a few steps away from her. In front of the confession booth, Shuri's body writhed on the floor, snakelike, trying to find a comfortable position. At first she lay half sprawled on the steps; then she rolled onto the aisle, sneaking her hand between her legs. Richelieu averted his eyes as she pushed up the thick fabric of her skirts, then began to stroke herself.

He needed to readjust. Richelieu quickly moved, but his touch was like a hot spark. He yanked his hand back, determined not to fall into his beastly urges and start fondling himself. In front of him, Shuri writhed, one hand between her legs, the other squeezing and fondling her breast, her hips rising and falling with rhythmic undulations.

She orgasmed. Her body jerked, once, twice, three times, and then repeated, a staccato-like rhythm, but rather than feel sated, she moaned and turned away from him.

"Oh god," Shuri moaned. She slipped her fingers beneath the leg of her bloomers, her fingers sliding into that warm crevice. "Oh god, help me."

She jerked again and she cringed, folding over herself, curling into her hand.

Richelieu squeezed his eyes, clutching his head. If he had his whip, he could use pain to purge the lust that was plaguing him.

"Can we not get married?" Shuri said. Her tone was reedy. Desperate. Richelieu's head shot up. The woman was writhing, delirious. "Can't you, can't you administer the rites of marriage?"

"I am a priest, we cannot get married," Richelieu said.

"What about Meissner and Wurst?! What about Pope Eugene? Didn't they also have lovers, Your Eminence?!"

"You wish to be my lover now, Lady Neuschwanstein? I seem to recall how very much you detest me."

Shuri moaned, then came again against her hand.

"Will you hold me?" she said. There were tears in her eyes as she looked up pathetically at him. "I'm frightened, Your Eminence. I don't want to die again."

"We all must die," Richelieu said. Carefully he moved from his perch at the pew and knelt beside her.

All at once, Shuri burrowed her head against his chest, sobbing brokenly.

He held her. He tried to ignore the scent of her hair. The smooth, pale skin, warm beneath his hands. She sniffled and her eyes flicked upward, and he could see they were red and swollen.

He made a move to kiss her, then stopped himself, closing his eyes and bowing his head.

"We cannot do this," he said. Shuri crawled against his lap.

"Why not?" Shuri said. "Isn't this like a man killing in self-defense?"

The cleft of her pelvis fitted itself against his aching groin as if it were always made to nestle against him. He felt himself twitch as she ground down, rubbing the shape of his erection against her clitoris.

"Oh god," Shuri said. Her body twitched with a few pleasured jerks as her hands clutched at him.

"We mustn't--" he began, but Shuri sucked on the strap muscle of his neck, rocking her body against him.

"Control yourself!" he said, and he shoved her off his lap. Shuri fell back, landing on the floor as Richelieu stood, his eyes wild and his hair disheveled, dark moons of sweat forming along his cassock. Shuri began to cry again.

What is a woman except an inferior creature compared to man? Richelieu felt a swell of pity for her, this hapless babe in the grip of the devil's temptation. He didn't fear death. Everything he did was righteous. And yet....

Images flitted in his head. Of grass green eyes and plush pink lips, of small soft hands tentatively touching him....

"You will hate me if we do this," Richelieu said.

"I already hate you, Your Eminence."

"I do not hate, my lady. I have love for all God's children."

"So then you love me, Your Eminence?"

"I do," Richelieu said, and his voice was hoarse. He sank onto his knees as Shuri looked up at him.

Their lips brushed, moving carefully as if he would get burned.

"We must stop this," he said, in an agonized breath, but Shuri pressed her mouth hard against his. Her soft tongue invaded him, her body rocking against him. He could feel her groin rubbing against his aching penis, which swelled and twitched from the stimulation.

"Stop," he said. His voice was breathy, pathetic. "Stop, stop."

"I can't." She was already unbuttoning his cassock. He started to protest but her mouth latched onto his neck, sucking on his skin. Her warm hands slid beneath the layers of fabric across his chest.

"God help me," Richelieu gasped. His eyes squeezed shut as he breathed heavily, shaking. "God forgive me...!"

Her teeth scraped across his pale skin, leaving it bruised and reddened.

He let out a hoarse cry, then pushed her down, pulling at the bodice of her dress. The buttons popped out, and Richelieu's eyes widened at the sight of her heaving bosom, how her skin was dewy with sweat and flushed with redness, how her pupils were dilated and her lips were parted as she looked up at him.

He was trembling when she reached her hands up to pull him down, to suckle at his lower lip. His cassock hung as if in tatters, exposing his bare chest. Her legs came up from under her heavy skirts to wrap around him.

"Help me," Shuri said, as she tried to push down the rest of her dress. Richelieu complied, his heart beating fast and his hands shaking as he yanked down the fabric. Crinoline and lace and untold layers of cloth fell across his rough hands, exposing soft, supple skin. The thumbprint dip of her navel, the soft swell of her hips. His eyes traced the line of her thighs to the dark thatch of hair by her sex, the swollen lips and the pink bud of her cunt, begging to be suckled and licked. Lust overtook him, and he pulled off his cassock, yanking off the layers, shoving down his pants and freeing his erection, which was heavy and swollen, a bead of wetness leaking by his tip. He let out a harsh moan, then buried his face into the Neuschwanstein woman's bosom, inhaling her scent, clutching her small body against his.

It wasn't until he reached between their bodies, pressing the blunt head of his tip against her lower lips, that he saw the lady flinch. Fear filled her eyes, which until then had been filled with lust and desire for him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked. Her voice was tremulous. Richelieu would hang his head and laugh were it not for the frightened look in her face, that she was aghast at herself for letting him do this. A swell of tenderness filled him then. He gently cupped her face, pressed her forehead against his.

"I will die with you, if you so wish it."

Their faces were close. They were both breathing hard. Her eyes grew shiny with wetness.

"I trust you," she said, and Richelieu's heart ached when she said it. "I trust you, Your Eminence. Please do it."

He nodded against her forehead, then slowly pressed in.

She let out a pained gasp, and he felt her body slowly splitting to accommodate him. One moist click-lock of their bodies, and he was fully sheathed in her wetness. "Bear with it," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"It doesn't hurt, Your Eminence." Her green eyes flicked upward, meeting his.

They kissed, the barest brush of her lips against his, and he slowly pulled back his hips, then pushed back in again. What delicious softness! What warmth and heat that was suckling and massaging him. Shuri's face wrenched, her forehead crinkling, but she kept staring up at him.

His voice was soft. "Does it hurt?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No, Your Eminence, keep going."

He nodded, then thrust slowly again.

Pleasure. It curled up at the place where they were joined, tightening and coiling. Richelieu let out a strangled breath, then pressed his face into the lady's neck. He felt her arms tighten around his back, the old wounds starting to split open. Dimly he was aware of the stinging of his wounds and the sweat rolling down his back, but that was all overshadowed by the pleasure that was mounting and building, making his thrusts more desperate. He gasped and thrust harder, throwing his weight into her, as if trying to rip her open.

Shuri let out a cry, clutching him. Her body rocked beneath his, matching his movement.

He came with a strangled gasp, then sagged, pulsing hard, emptying everything he had. And the lady twitched and spasmed, clinging to his neck, gasping and shuddering beneath him.

"Forgive me," he said. His body kept its wicked pulsing. He let out a stuttered breath, and buried his face into her neck. "Forgive me, please forgive me."

"I'm sorry," Shuri said, and she started crying. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

He kissed her. Kissed her eyes and the trail of tears slipping down the sides of her face. His eyes were shining as he looked down at her, his thumb gently smoothing back her tears.

"Do not apologize," he said, and tears filled his eyes, because they'd both been violated. Because he'd broken his vows and he'd stolen her innocence. Because they were both tainted and forever ruined.

 

*****

 

The heat of the poison left them, and Richelieu looked down at Shuri with dark eyes as he stood, buttoning up his cassock.

She had fallen asleep. Her eyes were swollen and her lashes were stuck together, and her nose and eyes were red from weeping. The toll of the poison and the heady lust and desire that followed after left her exhausted, and while Richelieu was able to rouse himself, the lady cried herself to sleep, clinging to him. Richelieu watched the rise and fall of her breath as he carefully covered her nakedness with his cloak. She looked peaceful as an innocent child, and Richelieu resisted the urge to crawl beside her and hold her.

"I absolve you of your sins," Richelieu said, but his voice broke. He bowed his head as if in prayer, then pressed a hand against the sweat of Shuri's brow.

Chapter 12: Unitive (explicit)

He couldn't stop kissing her. His hand slid through her hair, her long locks tangling through his fingers, as he kissed her, moving with slow, sure strokes. Shuri could feel the movement of his muscles of his back as she held him, sighing softly against his neck. The darkness was warm and the bed was creaking, and the bedsheets bunched and twisted during their lovemaking.

He let out a soft gasp, then a shaky breath, shuddering and pulsing as she held him. Shuri beamed up at him and kissed him.

"This isn't a sin?" she asked, as he sank against her breast. He seemed exhausted and utterly spent. She rested her hand on the back of his head.

"How do you mean?" he asked. Shuri's fingertips stroked his neck.

"Because I'm already pregnant."

Richelieu considered. There was a faint amber light trickling through the darkness, probably from the fireplace in the other room; it was enough to outline Richelieu's face as he considered.

"It is unitive," he said, finally. "An expression of love for the woman I married. Therefore there is no sin."

Shuri's brow crinkled. "You love me, Your Eminence?"

"I do."

He was still inside her; Shuri could feel her body gently clench the soft mass of his unfurled penis. She felt warm and suddenly protective of him.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she hugged him. "I love you, too."

He brushed a kiss against her neck, pressing himself against her.

It was strangely intimate. The feel of his bare chest against her breast. The heat of his skin and the taste of his sweat. This was a man she'd hated, but now she buried her nose into his chest and inhaled his scent, felt herself comforted pressed against him.

"Is it strange? I shouldn't be in love with you," Shuri said. She spoke more to herself than him. "I don't know why I feel like this."

"It is in your nature," Richelieu said. Shuri turned her head. "You are...docile and agreeable and that has been amplified by the poison," Richelieu said. "Any man could take you, and you would be attached to him."

"You make it sound as if I am a loose and wanton woman."

"You guard your heart," he said, "because once it's penetrated, your love is freely given." And Shuri remembered how Elias and Jeremy threw rocks at her, how she'd yearned for Johannes to give her some scrap of affection.

A sweet-natured, docile woman. Shuri didn't like this about herself. It was why she was taken advantage of when she was younger, why she didn't argue when her parents essentially sold her.

"I would protect you," Richelieu said. Shuri furrowed her brow at him.

"Isn't that a bit presumptuous, Your Eminence?"

"Not in the least; I am now your husband."

Shuri made another scoffing sound again. Richelieu brushed a kiss along her neck.

The entire time they'd been speaking, Richelieu had been moving slightly. Not quite full thrusts, but just enough to keep himself from sliding out. Now Shuri felt him thicken and harden, and he sighed against her neck and pressed deeper in.

In. In. In. In. Shuri sighed at the feel of him. The strokes grew more insistent. What started as a gentle rocking motion became more heated, until he was thrusting into her fully, sighing into her neck and clutching her against him.

Her fingers dug into the meat of his back as he shuddered and pulsed again, emptying into her a second time, before he fell upon her, limp and pliant. Shuri shivered. Her body responded with a weak orgasm, a few pops of pleasure that made her tremble and jerk beneath him.

Still inside her, he reached between their bodies and stroked her, the pads of his fingers rubbing and sliding around the sensitive bud, until Shuri was gasping and shaking. She quaked, spasming beneath him, and as she clenched down he slid out again, leaving a trail of sticky fluids. He pressed a penitent kiss to her breast, mouthed her nipple, before kissing her sternum, then pressed the heel of his hand against her pubis, easing her out from her orgasm.

The dark was warm and Shuri felt sleepy and sated. Richelieu moved to clean himself, and Shuri's body shivered at the sudden chill as he unpeeled himself from on top of her. "Come back," she said, and her voice was plaintive. Richelieu smiled and slid next to her. Tucking her against his chest, he sighed quietly, pulling up the blankets.

"So this was unitive, not procreative?" she mumbled, half-asleep. Richelieu nodded.

"Yes," he said, and he hitched her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Chapter 13: Sequelae of Poison, part 2

Notes:

Flashback chapter

In the days following the poisoning, Shuri was agitated. Her forehead was shiny was perspiration; she felt like she'd been tossed into a drink mixer and shaken.

"What's wrong?" Jeremy said. Shuri glanced at him.

Wide, worried eyes, and a face that looked like his father's. She thought of how Theobald accidentally landed on top of her and how Jeremy had responded.

He'll kill him, Shuri realized. She imagined Jeremy standing over Richelieu, Jeremy's sword bloody and his face contorted in rage and fury.

"Nothing," Shuri said. Jeremy started to protest but Shuri hugged her arms, turning away from him. "The weather is cold and I'm feeling a little out of sorts. It's nothing."

The silence hung for a long moment. Jeremy's lips pursed.

"I wish you would talk to me," Jeremy muttered, then turned and left her in her room.

 

*****

 

At night, she had nightmares. She dreamt of Richelieu's horrified expression as she pushed him down, how he'd pleaded with her to stop while she'd straddled him.

She woke up drenched in sweat. Outside, there were soft night sounds of crickets, which mingled with Shuri's heavy breathing. She reached a shaking hand to her face and brushed back her hair, which was damp with sweat and sticking to her forehead. It was her fault this happened. She should have died, Shuri thought, miserably. She shouldn't have been selfish.

The church was empty when she entered it; like before, it was bathed in an amber glow, and the sound of her footsteps echoed through the quiet. Richelieu was there, and as she approached, she saw in his eyes a haunted, tortured look. His lips were dry; his larynx bobbed as he swallowed.

"I've come to give confession," Shuri said. Beneath the veil, she'd hoped he didn't notice her sweating. Richelieu nodded mutely, and they both entered the booth.

She waited, her hands on her lap, as Richelieu situated himself on the other side of the partition. She kept her head bowed, her gaze fixed on her folded hands, but from the corner of her eye she could see Richelieu smooth out his robes as he sat, before bowing his head. The amber afternoon light seemed to glow through the partition, catching his profile in dappled shadows. After a long moment, Shuri spoke.

"I want to apologize, Your Eminence. It was my fault this happened."

She couldn't see his face through the partition, but she saw the movement; the slight bowing of his head, his shoulders hunching imperceptibly in the darkness.

"It was the fault of my enemies, Lady Neuschwanstein. You were as much a victim."

Shuri lifted her head. She hadn't expected this. She'd expected him to berate her, to throw her out of the confession booth, for ruining her own life as well as his. She'd expected him to curse her for dragging him down with her.

But Richelieu was quiet. It surprised her that he was offering absolution.

"I will take your advice and plead guilty for conduct unbefitting of a lady," Shuri said, if only to fill the silence. Across the partition, Richelieu nodded.

"I am glad to hear it," Richelieu said.

She waited again - she'd expected him to say something, anything, but he remained silent.

"I'm sorry," Shuri said again, and she curled into herself, a protective movement. "I can't stop thinking about it."

"Let us not speak of it," Richelieu said, and Shuri, in her misery, nodded.

"Thank you for not telling anyone, Your Eminence."

"You forget, my lady. I also have need to safeguard my reputation."

Of course. Shuri felt stupid. In the booth, her hands closed into fists. She felt her eyes filling with tears.

"Is there anything else?" Richelieu's voice was clipped.

"No, Your Eminence."

"Very well. If you need to collect yourself, you may stay here a moment; I will let the other priests know there is a parishioner, but that you've already confessed, and are currently gathering your wits."

"Thank you," Shuri said. She felt foolish. Across the partition, Richelieu nodded, then stood. A bright wash of yellow light filled the booth as he opened the door to his side, then left, the booth swallowed in darkness as he closed the door.

 

*****

 

At the Council of Nobles, he pointedly ignored her. He seemed fine, but Shuri noticed how the dark circles under his eyes looked even more pronounced, and saw the barest hint of blood staining his collar. He'd whipped himself, Shuri realized, and something inside her clenched. She was filled with the urge to wrap her arms around him, to bury her nose into the wounded places and kiss him. She blinked and stared hard at the papers in front of her, willing herself to focus on the meeting.

It must be the residual effects of the poison. Shuri scolded herself for entertaining those feelings.

"What do you know about Sex Pollen?" Shuri asked Alberon. Alberon straightened.

"Sex Pollen? It's used for animal husbandry, mostly," Alberon said. He gestured. "You feed it to the stud and mare if they're unwilling."

"It's the same chemical that's found in voles," another knight piped up. The other knights nodded.

"Voles?" Shuri said. The knight nodded.

"They mate for life," the knight said.

"And it can be used as poison?"

"Er, I suppose," the knight said. He seemed uncomfortable. "But I come from a family of farmers and it's mostly used for mating."

She went to the library. In the dusty books on farming and animal husbandry, she found entries concerning the poison - in small amounts, it increased the animals' libidos and led to successful mating. In larger amounts, it could lead to fever and convulsions. "One must take care not to overdose the animal, lest they die before a successful mating," it said.

 

*****

 

Her period was late. Shuri counted backwards from the calendar, then furrowed her brow, pacing. She had been late before, during periods of stress, and Shuri was undoubtedly stressed. "Let me wait a few more days," Shuri said to herself. Days turned to weeks, and Shuri found herself in the library again.

"By six to eight weeks, the tissues of the labia and vagina will take on a bluish hue," Shuri read, and she peered down at herself. It was called Chadwick's sign, and Shuri blushed furiously as she tried to ascertain the color of herself in the mirror.

"Gwen," Shuri said. "I need to ask you something."

"Of course," Gwen said. Shuri knitted her hands.

"I haven't bled yet," Shuri said.

"Well that's no problem, my lady! Everyone is late now and again," Gwen said. Shuri looked at her, stricken.

"No," Shuri said. Her voice was hoarse. "Eight weeks ago, I--" she blinked. Her eyes filled with tears. She lifted a shaky hand. "I slept with His Eminence!" Shuri said, and she began to cry. "We were doused with Sex Pollen, and--"

Gwen rushed toward her, draping Shuri in a blanket, then wrapping her arm around her shoulder. "Hush now, my lady," Gwen said. "We'll go to the doctor. I know one who is very discreet, who can keep a secret."

"Oh God," Shuri sobbed, and Gwen hugged her.

 

*****

 

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do...!

Shuri's hands splayed over her stomach. She still didn't feel the quickening. All they knew was that she hadn't undergone the natural process, but there were herbs she could take that would start her bleeding.

She was crossing the town square, hitching up her shawl, when she saw him: Richelieu striding fast, his face a stoic mask, the fabric of his robes moving slightly in the wind. Shuri's breath caught. She was overwhelmed with the feeling of wanting to run up to him, to throw her arms around him. To beg him to keep her safe, to let her stay with him....

It was an effect of the poison. Shuri screwed her face up, then turned quickly, moving away from him.

 

 

Notes:

In Victorian times, the woman didn't say she was late or she missed her period - she'd say she didn't undergo the natural process. They often didn't consider themselves pregnant until they could feel fetal movement.

Chapter 14: Antidote

"Ugh, it smells like shit," Elias said, waving a hand over his nose, while Leon glanced pensively behind them and Jeremy walked confidently in front of them. They were in the back streets of a no-name alley, one of the places Nora and his friends frequented.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Rachel said. Elias snapped.

"That's why you shouldn't have come - you're just a big baby!"

"Guys, quiet," Jeremy said, as the children all entered the shop, the apothecary stooping low in front of them.

It took a little digging, but Jeremy was able to find out where Meissner had gotten the poison. "You wanna help Shuri, right?" Jeremy said to Theobald, who blanched and nodded. If you'd asked either of them earlier if they'd be willing to work together, the answer would be a resounding "Hell no!", except now Richelieu was married to her, and they had no choice but to work together for the greater good.

"Your Highness, this is outside your purview--" the investigator started, but Theobald held up a hand and haughtily told them that as the Crown Prince, nothing was outside his purview, and so he was able to abscond with the necessary documents.

"I need an antidote for Sex Pollen," Jeremy said. Behind him, Elias flinched and Rachel and Leon exchanged glances. The apothecary's mouth stretched into a knowing grin.

 

*****

 

"My lady, you should let us decorate the nursery," Gwen said, while the other maids nodded. Shuri beamed at them and shook her head.

"I want to do this for my baby."

The maids bowed their heads.

Shuri sparkled. She hummed, holding up a teddy bear to the light. It was a soft light brown, and the fur was a fine velvet. Richelieu had nagged at her that soft things were too dangerous to put in a baby's crib, but Shuri figured it wouldn't hurt to let the bear sit upon the dresser or on the rocking chair beside it.

There were footsteps behind her.

"Oh, Jeremy," Shuri said, and she saw Elias and Rachel and Leon standing behind him. "Elias, Rachel, Leon. What are you doing?"

Jeremy shifted. He was hiding his hand.

"We got you an antidote for Sex Pollen!" Elias said. Jeremy snapped.

"I told you I'd tell her, Elias!"

"Well you were taking too long, she was wondering what we're doing!" Elias said.

Shuri's face went pale. "What?" she said.

"Sex Pollen," Jeremy said. He held up the vial. "We have enough of the antidote to dose both you and Richelieu."

The vial was slim and delicate; there was a silver stopper, which reflected the light from the window. It sat like a seashell in Jeremy's hand.

Shuri's voice was hoarse. "Why would you do that?" she asked. Jeremy tilted his head.

"What do you mean? We got you the antidote--"

"Yes but why would you do that?" Shuri said. There was a hysterical edge to her voice that made the children step back. Jeremy screwed his face and stepped forward.

"Because you're still under the influence of the poison!" Jeremy said. He held out the vial. "All you have to do is take it. You'll feel better, it'll clear your head."

Shuri's face wrenched. She turned away from him.

"Shuri?"

"How could you bring that?" Shuri said, and Jeremy started to argue, but saw the tears filling Shuri's eyes as she looked at him. "If you give His Eminence that--"

"If I give Richelieu that, he'll leave you alone!" Jeremy said. Shuri shrieked at him.

"He'll leave me and I'm pregnant!"

"Shuri!" Jeremy said, and he gripped her by the arms. "Shuri, listen to me, Shuri!"

"Mama!" Rachel cried, as Leon stepped in front of her. Elias's teeth clenched.

"You can't!" Shuri sobbed. "You can't, he'll leave, you can't--"

"I'll marry you!" Jeremy shouted. Shuri looked up, stricken. Her eyes were swollen and tears were rolling down the sides of her face. Jeremy bowed his head. "I told you already," Jeremy said. "I don't give a damn about what the others think. Father married you and nothing happened to the Lion's reputation. I don't give a damn if they think it's incest! We'll take care of you."

Shuri's face twisted in a look of anguish. She pulled her arms away from him.

"Shuri--"

"I think that's enough," Richelieu said.

They turned. Richelieu was standing in the doorway behind them. Wordlessly he walked past the children and Jeremy and took Shuri's chin in his hand.

"She is in a state," Richelieu muttered. His eyes slid towards Jeremy. "How dare you agitate her in her condition."

Jeremy's jaw clenched. Behind him, Elias pushed forward.

"He doesn't even love you!" Elias said.

"Elias!" Leon said.

"No, Mother! He's under the Sex Pollen! He's only with you because of the poison!"

Richelieu whirled around, then stalked toward Jeremy, grabbing the vial from Jeremy's hand.

Shuri started, "Your Eminence--!" but Richelieu took a quick swig.

A look of horror filled Shuri's eyes as Richelieu swallowed. He set down the vial next to the crib.

"Ask me again," he said, coming up to her. Shuri began to cry again. He forced her head up to look at him. "Ask me how I feel about you. Ask me again."

"Y-you just took it, of course it hasn't worked yet--"

"Then ask me tomorrow, or the day next," Richelieu said, and he pulled her to his chest. Pressing a palm to her head, he held her, then glared at her idiot children.

Jeremy was seething. "Mother, I have another vial. You need to take it."

"She is with child. Or are you too much of an imbecile to realize that?" Richelieu said. Leon murmured.

"She's pregnant, she shouldn't take foreign substances," Leon said.

"Mama," Rachel said, stricken. Shuri sobbed against Richelieu's chest.

The children filtered out. Only Richelieu and Shuri were left.

The sun was beginning to set. Richelieu looked out the window, at the leaves of the trees that seemed lit with a golden glow. After a moment, Shuri sniffed, then straightened.

"Should I take the antidote then?" she asked. Her swollen eyes flicked upwards, meeting his.

"You shouldn't," Richelieu said. He wiped her eye with his thumb. Shuri sniffed.

"But what if what I feel for you is because of the poison? Don't you want to know if your feelings are reciprocated?"

Richelieu stroked her hair. "I already know they're not reciprocated," Richelieu said. Shuri protested.

"But--"

"Lady Neuschwanstein," Richelieu said. "We are married. And if you grow to hate me, that will not change that fact."

"You don't feel bad?" Shuri asked. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. The idea that Richelieu's feelings for her weren't genuine hurt her, surely it was the same for him. Richelieu's mouth quirked.

"You will find I am a pragmatic man," Richelieu said. He stroked her head. "It is easier for me if you are happy with me."

"Heh." Shuri hiccuped, then buried her face into his chest again.

And then she felt it - a small poke at the bottom of her stomach. "Wait, Your Eminence," Shuri started, and Richelieu cocked his head. She pressed his hand to her stomach. "I feel it."

Her stomach fluttered, the baby swimming inside her.

"I feel it! Can you feel it?" she asked, and she pressed her hand over his, fitting his palm flat against her abdomen.

Richelieu waited a moment, then sighed, shaking his head. "Not yet," he said. Shuri beamed at him, her eyes still shiny with wetness.

"What will you do if you wake up and find that your feelings were because of the poison?"

"What will you have me do?" he asked. Shuri bowed her head.

"I'd want you to tell me and annul our marriage." Her voice was thin and tremulous. "I don't think I could live with myself if I thought you were pretending, Your Eminence."

Richelieu's eyes were solemn. "Very well," he said. He touched her cheek again.

Chapter 15: Antidote, part 2

"How do you feel?" Shuri asked. It was morning now, and though Richelieu had slept well, Shuri's eyes were wild and her hair was a messy tangle. He scowled, irritated at himself for not noticing earlier.

"I am vexed, because you were up all night worrying while I slept."

She pressed her fingertips together. "So do you...do you want to annul our marriage?"

"No," he said, and he pulled her back down onto the bed.

"Your Eminence?"

His grip around her tightened. "I apologize," he said. "I was inconsiderate."

"I don't understand," Shuri said, but Richelieu kissed her forehead.

"Next time you are worried, wake me up and ask me again."

Chapter 16: One-Eighty (Antidote, part 3)

The first time Richelieu changed his mind, he had been staunchly atheist.

He was a teenager then, full of himself, taking a particular glee in baiting his lessers and tearing down their arguments. Though he was in seminary, he only went through the motions; there was no God, he'd figured, but the church was comfortable enough, he couldn't see himself falling in love or starting a family, there was no need to rebel against the path that had been chosen for him. But his atheism was swept away in the torrents, and soon he'd plunged himself headfirst into his religion.

The second time Richelieu changed his mind, he had been a religious zealot.

He prayed with the fervor of the damned, trying to prove his worth with his devotion. God saved him, and so God gave him purpose. He grew disillusioned with the corruption of the church, but knew God had chosen him to change it. He had consigned his soul to eternal damnation to spread His word, but this was proof of Richelieu's love for Him.

But then his religious zeal faltered in the face of the tear-streaked woman crying in front of him, hugging herself and confessing that she was pregnant.

He turned on a dime; he shed his past like a molting skin. And so, like his faith after his atheism, he threw himself into becoming the ideal husband.

"What is this?" Shuri asked. Her face was pale and her eyes were beset with dark circles, and she'd spent the morning exhausted and nauseous. Richelieu sat beside her and pushed the tray of sweets in front of her.

"Crystallized ginger," he said. "I read it does well for morning sickness."

"Thank you," Shuri said. It was still early in their courtship, if one could call it that - and she was still rightfully wary of him.

He let their bodies do the convincing for him. The act of penetration and her receiving him made her lower her guard around him. She was soft in the quiet darkness. She allowed herself to get close to him. The Saints had argued that sex during pregnancy was a venial sin, but Richelieu went to his texts and his books, and found letters within the dialectical canon that argued sex was unitive. Whereas before, he would whip himself for his sins, sacrificing his soul to root out corruption, he felt no need for penance. She was his wife and he was her husband. There was nothing wrong partaking in the marriage bed, especially since she was so comforted by it.

Strange. The act itself was vulgar - hollow grunts and squelching flesh slapping against turgid flesh, there was nothing beautiful in this. Not in the desperate way he held her, nor how he buried his face into the crook of her neck as she clutched him. It was animal pleasure, heightened by the residual effects of the poison.

And yet.

And yet it spilled out in softer touches. A touch of her hand against his elbow. A shy glance up toward him. The gentle touch of her cheek as she'd lean against his shoulder. Their bodies remembered. Their nightly act had brought them emotionally closer.

 

*****

 

"Do you still love me?" she asked again. Richelieu nodded.

"Yes," he said.

She rested her head on his chest. "And you're sure you don't regret this?"

"God showed me a different path. I told you I don't regret it."

"But you'd been working so long, and all those plans--"

A wry smile. "'Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand,'" he said.

There was a small wrinkle between Shuri's eyebrows as she frowned, and Richelieu smiled to himself, then poked the spot between her eyebrows. Shuri blinked at him.

"What is it?"

"You worry too much," he said.

"I'm just trying to wrap my head around it," Shuri said. She pressed tighter against him. "All this time, you've been fighting the Church corruption. And you're willing to give that up just because I'm pregnant."

He hitched her closer. "When I was in seminary, I was an atheist," he said. "This is not the first time God has changed my path."

Shuri still looked worried. He brushed a strand of hair back, the tips of his fingers lingering on her cheek.

"It worries me that you were so devoted, but you gave it up so quickly," Shuri said. "What if the same thing happens to me?"

"You think I would leave?"

"Maybe," Shuri said. He let his fingers card through her hair, thoughtfully.

"I was alone when I was in seminary," he said. "And I was alone before you came to me. You have my child now. You are a part of me."

"I want to believe you, but I still have doubts."

"Faith," Richelieu murmured. Shuri shifted to look at him. Richelieu's eyes were solemn. "Have faith in the Lord if you cannot have faith in your husband."

She let out a soft sound, like a hiccup or a laugh. "I'm glad you took the antidote to the poison."

 

 

Notes:

Quote about God and man's plans from Proverbs, 19:21. Chapter title refers to making a 180, i.e. suddenly changing from a particular plan, opinion, or decision, and suddenly doing the opposite. Richelieu did a complete 180 going from atheist to religious zealot, and then again from Cardinal to Shuri's husband

Chapter 17: Eyes Wide Open (Antidote, part 4)

Notes:

Implied past fellatio

"I'm taking the antidote, Your Eminence," Shuri said. "I've thought about it, and I've prayed about it, and ultimately, it doesn't sit right with me that you'd rather have me drugged and pliant in order for it to be easier to be my husband."

Richelieu stood very still as she said that; his eyes betrayed no expression. "I would suggest you wait until you're no longer pregnant," he said. "And until the babe is fully weaned from your breast."

"That would be a year or two later, Your Eminence, and I've already spoken to two highly reputable, highly discreet physicians. They assure me that the antidote to Sex Pollen is safe, and if anything, the effects of the poison are more worrisome when one is pregnant."

She took out the vial. Jeremy had given it to her, telling her to just take the damn thing already, but she wanted to show him. Her hand trembled as she held it.

"You would willingly enter a loveless marriage?" Richelieu said.

"I'd rather have a marriage with my eyes open and my mind unclouded. If it is miserable, so be it."

Richelieu scoffed. "I will not allow you to annul it."

"Fine," Shuri said. She fingered the vial. A shadow fell over her eyes as she took a quick swig.

The liquid was thick and viscous, and left a slimy taste on her tongue as she swallowed it. It is rather a bit like semen, isn't it? she thought, and realized with a horrified thought that no honest woman should know this. What had she done in the grips of Sex Pollen?!

Richelieu watched. Shuri didn't feel any different. Certainly there wasn't that frantic rush of desire and emotion that followed their attack with Sex Pollen.

Richelieu was standing in front of her. His eyes were dark and the bruises under his eyes looked more prominent. The hollows of his cheekbones made him look gaunt, though the rest of him was twisted with ropes of muscle, grotesque and horrible.

"I thank you for marrying me, Your Eminence," Shuri said, setting down the vial.

"Well?"

Shuri gave him a shrug. An apologetic smile. "As I said," Shuri said. "I now have both eyes open."

His hand clenched, then unclenched. Shuri could see the criss-crossed scars across his fingers and thumb.

"I don't find you entirely repulsive," Shuri said. Richelieu made a scoffing sound, and turned away from her. Shuri knitted her brow. "I feel pity for you instead."

"How very good to know this." Richelieu's voice dripped acid. Shuri clasped her hands.

"It is still not too late to annul our marriage--"

"I told you. You are with child. I have no intention of abandoning him."

"Or her," Shuri murmured. Richelieu scoffed again, shaking his head. Shuri continued.

"Your Eminence, I think it best if we sleep in separate beds."

"Fine," Richelieu said.

"I am getting bigger anyway, and as far as duty goes, our marriage has long been consummated."

"Fantastic."

She'd never heard him before sound sarcastic. Shuri raised her eyebrows at him.

"If you wish to manipulate the Lion," Shuri said, "I'm afraid your job is harder now. You may have fooled me in my addled state, Your Eminence, but I know you. You'd do anything to fight the Church’s corruption. You were willing to sacrifice your soul going to heaven. It is not much of a stretch that you would also sacrifice the cloth and enter a loveless marriage."

"You sound so very proud of yourself for piecing this."

"Thank you, Your Eminence. It was difficult with such things clouding my head."

He made another irritated sound, turning his head.

"There is more," Shuri said.

Richelieu's voice was full of contempt: "I should have guessed." Shuri stepped up to him, holding a stack of documents.

"A marriage contract," Shuri said. "You may refuse to annul our marriage, but I can still petition for a divorce, which would most certainly damage your reputation."

Richelieu glowered as Shuri held out the documents. Shuri gestured with them.

"Look them over, Your Eminence. I'm not so petty as to force you to sign this. Ideally we should both benefit from this."

Richelieu stared hard at her. "Another man would beat his foolish wife for daring to talk back to her husband."

"Then strike me, Your Eminence," Shuri said. She tilted her chin. "And if I lose the baby, we can end this."

He snatched the documents from her hand with barely concealed violence, making Shuri flinch. He stalked over to the desk and grabbed a pen.

He signed it. Shuri stiffened. The pen scratching on the paper sounded loud, like a knife carving against the table.

"Lest you forget yourself, remember that I was willing to die when we were doused with poison," Richelieu said.

"I know, Your Eminence. And I've already apologized for my actions."

Richelieu finished signing. He set down the pen.

"Thank you, Your Eminence," Shuri said.

"I am no longer a Cardinal, lady. I am your husband."

"Fine," Shuri said. "But I will still call you 'Your Eminence.'"

Chapter 18: Eyes Wide Open, part 2

Notes:

Self-harm, self-flagellation

The penance room in the bowels of the church was still unpopulated - few went in there, and even fewer still would notice a former cardinal stalking inside its hallways as a matter of course. There were no private prayer rooms in the Neuschwanstein estate, no place where he could atone for his sins without the prying eyes of the waitstaff silently judging him. He walked, turned a corner, then went into the dark stone chamber, shutting the door behind him.

He slammed his fist against the cross, then toppled the statue, before falling to his knees, his face wrenched. He shoved his fist to his eyes, his hands wrapped in a rosary, as his mouth twisted in a grimace. He had struggled so long and so hard and for what? To be abandoned by Him. To be mocked and utterly humiliated. He yanked off his shirt in a violent motion, then grabbed his whip, flogging himself with it.

Blood and sweat. He hunched into himself, his clenched hands shaking as he held the whip. Blood trickled from the open wounds in his back, drops of sweat and tears darkening onto the gray stone floor in front of him.

"Your Eminence?"

Richelieu jerked his head up, gutted to see Lady Neuschwanstein standing in the doorway behind him.

"You should not be here," he hissed, standing and turning toward her. Shuri held her hands to her chest.

"I was worried, so I followed you."

Foolish. So utterly foolish. Richelieu cursed under his breath, and realized in his agitated state he didn't even realize she'd been behind him.

He swallowed, then took a breath, calming himself, before turning to face her. He let his face arrange itself into an arrogant look. "What do you want?"

Shuri flinched, then took a step back. "I'm sorry about earlier," she said.

Richelieu narrowed his eyes at her.

"Um. Your Eminence, I--" she gripped her arm with one hand, her forearm hugged closely to her chest. A protective stance. "I didn't expect you to react like that."

"React like what."

"React like...that," she gestured to the whip and the instruments of penance, to the toppled cross and the statue lying on the floor. "You looked upset," she said stupidly, "and--"

"Spare me, Lady Neuschwanstein. Or should I say, Lady Dreger, because you are bound to me."

Shuri closed her mouth again. Richelieu studied her.

"I suppose I should get dressed. Lest your eyes be offended."

"N-no, I'm not-- I mean, it isn't-- I've seen you naked before!" Shuri blurted, as Richelieu coolly fingered his shirt, before gingerly tugging it over his shoulder. Blood smeared across the cloth as he pulled his arm through the sleeve, ignoring her.

"I love you," Shuri said. Richelieu stopped.

"What?"

"I...I wanted to tell you. I still love you," Shuri said. She spread her hands. "I thought it'd go away, maybe the antidote wasn't working yet. But I look at you, and I want to cry because of the things I said, and you were acting so cold towards me, and--"

"You were impugning me," Richelieu said.

"I know, I'm sorry," Shuri said. Her eyes filled with tears. "But I love you, and I'm sorry I said those things, and--" she raised a shaky hand to her face, sobbing. "Now you hate me!" she said.

If this were a romance, the male lead would stalk up to her. Pull her in his arms and reassure her. But Richelieu just stared at her.

"Ridiculous," Richelieu muttered. He turned, but not without splitting the wounds on his back, blood seeping further into the fabric. He picked up the cross and righted it.

"Your Eminence?" She felt stupid but she had to ask him: "Do you hate me, Your Eminence?"

He sighed, irritated. "Regrettably, I'm still attached to you, but I am vexed by this situation."

Richelieu pulled up the statue again. It looked heavy and probably twice the size of him. It's no wonder he's so strong, Shuri miserably thought. She watched as he put away his instruments of penance, racking them back on the wall, before dragging a rag across the blood on the floor.

"We'll have to take this," Richelieu said, holding the rag. "I'm technically not allowed on these grounds. I can't ask the acolytes to launder this."

"We can launder it at the estate," Shuri said. "And the maids can get rid of the blood stains."

"They have experience with blood-soaked fabric?"

"Well, I am a woman, Your Eminence."

It took him a moment to realize this. "Oh," he said. And despite herself, Shuri giggled at him.

"Sorry," she said, and she beamed ruefully at him. "I suppose all this time, you were surrounded by men."

"I was surrounded by all manner of simpering idiots and fools lost to corruption," Richelieu said, and he didn’t push away when she hugged him. He rested his cheek on her head, then took her hand out of habit as she walked next to him.

"Does your back hurt? How can you get dressed without bandages?" Her hand threaded across his arm as she leaned against him. Richelieu considered.

"I suppose the blood is hidden by black fabric," Richelieu said.

"Huh," Shuri said.

They didn't go to sleep in separate beds.

Chapter 19: Making Up

"I'm still mad at you," Shuri said.

They had just finished making love, lying together in bed. He couldn't lie on his back, so he was curled on his side holding Shuri next to him.

Richelieu frowned against her head. "Why are you mad?"

"Because!" Shuri rolled around to look at him. "You were willing to take me drugged! That isn't love."

"It was rather selfish," Richelieu mused. His grip around her tightened. "Perhaps you would have liked it better if I chained you in the basement." Shuri made a face at him.

He brushed the little wrinkle by her forehead. "You have so many emotions," he said. "Is it because you are a woman, or is it because you are pregnant?"

"I wasn't the one knocking over statues and flogging myself with a whip."

"It was in penance. There is nothing irrational about it."

Shuri grumbled, cuddling him. "You're lucky you're cute, Your Eminence."

"What?" He scoffed at her. "What are you on about?"

"It's the dark circles, Your Eminence. I used to think they were dreadful, but I find them terribly cute."

"I see pregnancy has addled your head even without the Sex Pollen," Richelieu said.

Chapter 20: Feeling It (explicit)

Notes:

PIV sex while pregnant

He threw his weight behind his thrusts, pushing up on his arms as he pounded into her. Shuri's voice seesawed into helpless little gasps as he thrust, steady and rhythmic, her mouth slack and her face flushed and red.

He came with a gasp, then bore his weight onto his arms, shaking as he emptied into her. Shuri swallowed, breathing hard, then let out a low, satisfied laugh.

"I can feel it," Shuri said, and she laughed again. "The baby's wiggling, Your Eminence."

"What?!"

She was barely showing, just a slight fullness around her lower abdomen. If one didn't know already, one wouldn't think she was pregnant. Richelieu's penis twitched despite himself, throwing one more rope of semen as he stared in horror at his pregnant wife and the child in her belly, who evidently could feel him.

"Did the child feel it when you had your crisis?" he asked in a low voice, horrified at the thought of the baby being woken by his mother's orgasm. Shuri laughed, delighted.

"No, Your Eminence, but I felt it just now, more flutters inside my belly, and--"

He slid out, grimacing at the wet trail of their fluids.

"Your Eminence?"

Richelieu pointed a shaking hand at her abdomen. "We will no longer be doing this."

"What? Why?"

"Are you daft, woman? The child obviously can feel it."

"No he can't, it's just a coincidence, whatever happened to sex being unitive?" Shuri said, scrambling up to follow him. Richelieu scowled.

"That was before you felt it quicken," Richelieu said.

"But--"

"I'll not sully you further because of my lust, we will not be engaging in further relations while you are pregnant," Richelieu said.

 

*****

 

"Oh, sexual relations when one is pregnant? There's nothing wrong about it," the doctor said.

Richelieu was about to protest when Shuri beamed at the doctor guilelessly and patted Richelieu's hand. "Thank you for clearing that up for me and my husband," she said, smiling.

Chapter 21: Hugs

Notes:

Rape mention, OOC, crack.

"I want a hug," Shuri said. She held her arms out expectantly toward him.

Richelieu stared at her like a wet, irritated cat. Even when she hugged him, he still had the same offended expression.

She demanded hugs more since he wouldn't touch her. "Well if sex is unitive, certainly a hug also is," Shuri said. She held her arms out toward him.

Richelieu muttered at his papers. "Why don't you hug one of your children?"

"Because the last time I hugged Jeremy you threatened me with incest."

Richelieu grumbled. He grudgingly hugged her, but secretly he enjoyed it.

"There!" Shuri said, happy against his chest. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, a skip in her step. "And tonight, you and I are going to have sex."

"We are not," Richelieu said.

"Are too," Shuri said.

Richelieu sputtered, flabbergasted. "That is not something up for negotiation," Richelieu said.

"Well then I'll take you when you've hardened after you've awakened," Shuri said.

Richelieu didn't like being reminded of his body's weaknesses. It was something he'd struggled with as a cardinal, and even when he was a young seminarian.

"Rape is a mortal sin," he said.

"So is drugging your wife and withholding the antidote to Sex Pollen," Shuri said.

"That is a specious argument. I was not the one who drugged you. Furthermore, no one withheld any antidote, you got it from Jeremy yourself."

"I want a hug again."

"No."

"Please? I bet the baby likes it."

Richelieu sighed and capitulated. Shuri snuggled against him.

"I like this, Your Eminence!"

"Hmm."

"You also don't like this?" She looked up at him.

Richelieu sighed again. "It is adequate," he said, and rested his calloused palm on her head.

"I like the way you smell," Shuri said. Richelieu sputtered.

"Woman--!"

"Noo, don't leave, I want to hug again!" And she forced him into a headlock, hugging him.

 

*****

 

"She took the antidote to the Sex Pollen?" Leon said. Jeremy groaned and rubbed his head.

They both looked. Their mother was clinging to Richelieu while the man was struggling to walk forward. It reminded them of a little girl trying to glomp a cat trying to escape under the furniture.

"It seems Mother is really happy," Leon said.

Chapter 22: Romance Novels (mature)

Notes:

Passage in a romance novel describing cunnilingus

They called it a maternity corset. Meant to hide the wearer's condition, it was made of whale bone paneling and stiff, reinforced fabric. Shuri balked at it, but the maids insisted.

"This feels....amazing," Shuri said, marveling at herself. Her bump had grown like an overlarge melon, and was heavy and hard on her ligaments. She'd taken to carrying her bump the way she'd carry a bread basket, resting it on her forearms as she'd waddle instead of walk.

The corset, which looked like a torture device, threatening to smash her womb back into her pelvis, held up her girth. It was like a comfortable shelf on which her bump could rest, a second pair of forearms that would carry her basket.

"You mustn't go out in your condition," Gwen said, helping Shuri in her dress. "It's impolite for a lady to be showing like this."

"Can I not walk in the garden?"

"So long as it's within your estate, my lady. But it would surely cause a scandal in the capital if you appeared like this."

 

*****

 

"You want me to what?" Richelieu said. Shuri pushed up on her toes to look at him.

"Romance novels," Shuri said. "I need you to purchase them."

Richelieu made a sour expression. "Why not have the maids do this."

"Because I thought it would be more entertaining if I forced you to do it."

Richelieu blinked, then blinked again, then sighed, exasperated, and rubbed his head. "Fine," he said, and Shuri sparkled. "Give me the list."

He read the titles - A Captain's Most Delicious Scandal, Hot Summer in the Duchess's Bed, - then wondered if his former enemy had found the most perfect means to humiliate him.

"You'll have to give this to the bookshop clerk directly," Shuri said. She was grinning at him.

 

*****

 

"Your Eminence!" the deacon - now actually a priest, having successfully finished seminary - ran up to him. "You're giving me word, Your Eminence?"

Richelieu held out his list. "I need you to proffer these books for me," Richelieu said.

"Oh!" the deacon said, and he peered at the titles. "Well I suppose after leaving the Church you'd be interested in these things--"

"They're not for me, they're for my wife. I need you to purchase these for me."

"Ah, I see," the deacon said, beaming.

 

*****

 

The deacon came back with a thick stack of books, all wrapped in clean brown paper.

Richelieu glowered. His wife was asleep on the couch, so instead of giving the books directly to her, he took to carefully unwrapping them in the study, intending to shelve them with the other filth and mindless secular trifles. Carefully, he cut the twine and unfolded the brown paper, listening to its pleasant crinkle as he unwrapped the books, then looked at the title.

Why is she interested in this? He frowned, turned the book over his hands, and flipped a page.

"Down she squatted, drawing up her chemise. My hand wandered all over her charming belly and mount. Then kneeling down, and putting her legs over my shoulders, and my hands under her thighs and bottoms, I applied my tongue at once to her little clitoris, which I found was already stiff, and showing its head at the upper part of her pinky slit. The action of my agile tongue produced an instantaneous effect—her loins and thighs heaved up her bottom to press her little pouting cunt against my face. Mechanically she put her hand on my head, and muttered terms of endearment. Oh, my darling, how delicious! Oh, do go on! It is so nice, &c.' "

Richelieu slammed the book shut, shoved it under a pile of papers, and paced, his face red and his fist against his mouth, embarrassed. What on God's earth was this woman reading?

He waited a moment, hovering over the desk, then picked up the book again.

 

*****

 

"You read my books?" Shuri said. Richelieu didn't look at her. "All of them?" she asked again. Richelieu scowled at his papers.

"You were supposed to be a virgin woman."

"Well obviously I'm not now, seeing as I'm pregnant."

Richelieu stared at her, flabbergasted.

 

 

Notes:

Excerpt from The Romance of Lust, a Victorian erotic novel, from Project Gutenberg.

It was considered indelicate for a lady to go around in public when she was visibly pregnant, wearing clothes to downplay their bump and corsets to smooth them. I headcanon the corsets in this universe are more supportive than constraining, but I don't know if that's the case for the actual historical ones.

Chapter 23: Foreign Substances (crack)

Notes:

Crack, OOC, implied drug use.

He was in the process of changing his shirt when Shuri stalked up to him, grabbed him by the arm, then mashed her face into his sternum.

"What are you--"

He could only haplessly describe it as her rubbing her face into his chest. If he were a modern person, he would say she was motorboating him.

"Mmm!" Shuri straightened, beaming as if she'd inhaled a lungful of fresh air and was enjoying the springtime scent. "I like it," she said. Richelieu covered his face, exasperated.

"Are you quite certain you took the antidote to the Sex Pollen?"

"Your chest is big. Why is it so big?" Shuri said. She poked him. "Your chest is as big as my breasts, Your Eminence!"

"Stop that," Richelieu said, scandalized. Shuri giggled at him and poked him again. He grabbed her by the wrist. "Enough of that. What are you doing?"

"Hehe. My husband has soft tiddies."

Richelieu grabbed her by the arm and yanked her down the corridor.

 

*****

 

"Uh...." Elias scratched his head. "We heard it was good anti-nausea medication. The apothecary sold it."

Shuri giggled. Richelieu wanted to murder him.

"I'm hungry," Shuri said, then giggled, bumping into him. "Oh, Your Eminence! The baby's moving!"

Richelieu glared at her idiot stepchildren. "Stop giving your mother foreign substances!" he said.

 

*****

 

There were books on medicinal herbs. Apparently it would be a few hours before Shuri would cease feeling its effects.

On the couch, her face was furrowed. She stared at him as if studying an insect.

"What is it?" Richelieu said, closing the book. Shuri tilted her head.

"If you unbutton your shirt, I bet you'd have cleavage."

 

*****

 

"Ah, um. Ahem. Sorry," Shuri said. Richelieu didn't look at her, writing in his documents.

"For what exactly are you apologizing."

"For, um. Manhandling your chest, and saying you have cleavage."

Shuri stood in front of the desk, chastened. Richelieu kept writing in his documents. "What else?" he said.

"And for, um, saying you had pretty eyes like a sleep-deprived woman."

He waited. Shuri fidgeted.

"And for pushing you down and trying to mount you on your desk."

"There we are," Richelieu said. Shuri protested.

"But it's not as if you stopped me, Your Eminence!"

"Are you suggesting, then, that I should have shoved off a heavily pregnant, frail woman?"

"It's not as if anything would happen, my belly was in the way, Your Eminence," Shuri said. She gestured to her bump, which she had used as a cudgel to smash into him. (The baby evidently liked it, rolling and poking her as she'd laughed and used her belly to push him.) Richelieu sighed and shook his head.

"And yet you were so utterly offended when I suggested you atone for stirring up trouble."

"Wha- that was different! You were accusing us of incest, Your Eminence!"

"I see you are incapable of self-reflection," Richelieu said.

"But--"

"Were you not, just twenty minutes heretofore, rubbing up on your stepson and insisting you compare our biceps?"

Shuri sputtered. "That is different."

"I hardly see the difference," Richelieu said.

"I was under the influence of that substance!"

"It merely lowered your inhibitions. Therefore I can only surmise that you've long thought of stripping me, ogle my body parts and make lewd comparisons between myself and young Jeremy."

Shuri flushed. "Is there something wrong with being attracted to my husband?"

"'I want to suck your tits, Your Eminence.' Is that not what you said to me?"

Shuri grumbled. "Well I do," she said, under her breath. Richelieu made an exasperated sound.

"At the very least, please say those things in private," Richelieu said.

"Wait, who did I say that to?"

 

*****

 

"My ears," Elias said. Jeremy looked nauseous. Rachel was cracking up, bouncing in her chair, while Leon was maturely overlooking it even though he was the youngest.

"Please help our Mother," Leon said solemnly to Richelieu.

 

 

Notes:

Using marijuana can cause restricted fetal growth and stillbirth in pregnancy. In this AU, Shuri took a substance that would be safe for pregnancy.

Chapter 24: Sequelae of Poison, part 3

Notes:

Flashback chapter. Self-flagellation.

The soft, blue light of the pre-morning hours filled the church by the time the deacon found them, coming across the padlocked door and pulling back the heavy cross in his confusion.

Richelieu, who hadn't slept, heard the metal scrape of chains being pulled against the door, and realized someone was attempting to remove them.

"We must hide," Richelieu said, taking Lady Neuschwanstein by the arm. The lady had been asleep. She roused, confused, then turned her gaze to the door, which was heaving and jiggling by whoever was trying to open it.

"In the confession booth," Richelieu said in a low voice. "It is likely one of the clergy preparing the nathrex before the morning service."

Shuri stood, and in her haste, the disheveled clothes fell down her waist. Richelieu grabbed them, pulling up her undone dress and the cloak, covering her.

They hid inside the booth. In the pre-dawn darkness, there was barely any light in the booth, and it took a moment for Richelieu's eyes to adjust to Shuri's shaking shape past the partition. Shuri was trembling hard, her hands clutched over the ruins of her clothing, as footsteps approached.

"Hello? Your Eminence? Are you here?"

"It's the deacon," Richelieu realized, speaking in a low voice. Shuri whispered.

"Should we go out?"

"I do not know if he's alone."

Outside the booth, the deacon looked around. "Where is he?" the deacon said, pressing his fingers together. "Oh no, something happened to His Eminence. Meissner must have done something."

"Stay here," Richelieu instructed Shuri, then stepped out of the booth.

The deacon whirled around. "Your Eminence?"

"Are you alone?"

"Yes," the deacon said, puzzled. Richelieu sighed.

"Then help me lock the door."

"Wha- I just opened it," the deacon said, but Richelieu was striding past him.

"What time is it?" He closed the latch.

"Um, it's 5 AM."

"Then we have a few more hours yet. Morning service doesn't start until seven."

The door was locked. Richelieu strode to the booth. "Lady Neuschwanstein and I survived a poisoning attempt," Richelieu said. He stepped beside her side of the door. "You may come out now when you have dressed."

A rustling of cloth, Lady Neuschwanstein pulling back on her chemise and struggling with her corset.

"What is taking so long?" Richelieu said. He glanced back at the door while the deacon hovered, nervous.

"I can't do up the laces of my corset." Her voice was weak and tremulous. "I'm sorry, without it the dress won't fit--"

Richelieu cursed, then turned to the deacon. "Help her," he said.

The deacon stammered, "But--"

“Are you sufficiently covered so that you can come out and he can help you?" Richelieu said, turning toward the booth. Inside the booth, Shuri grabbed her dress by her chest, gathering the fabric.

She stepped out, the layers of her clothes drooping off of her like the skin of an onion. The deacon stepped around and started lacing up her corset. "Don't worry, lady," the deacon said, in his soothing, cheerful manner. "I had lots of sisters growing up. We didn't have maids so I helped Mother with their corsets."

"Thank you," Shuri said, blushing. She couldn't look at them. In front of her, Richelieu's face was pinched. The deacon gave the corset a quick tug, then helped her pull up the remnants of her dress.

 

*****

 

"There's no one outside, Your Eminence. It's just me and the horses," the deacon said. They were striding out of the church, the sky still dark and the buildings around them quiet. Behind them, Lady Neuschwanstein seemed reluctant to follow them.

"Why are you standing there?" Richelieu said, turning around to glare at her. Shuri's hands rested against her throat, a protective movement.

"I need to go home. I have to find somewhere to call a carriage."

"Damn it." He crossed himself. "Find Otto," he said to the deacon. Otto was another one of Richelieu's hands and feet, a former mercenary who was loyal to him. "Tell him it is urgent."

"Yes." The deacon went running. Shuri hugged herself.

"When he comes back, tell him you have need of a carriage," Richelieu said. "I will leave you here to wait for the deacon. I trust you realize our being seen together would be scandalous."

"I understand," Shuri said. Richelieu turned, then started walking the other direction.

 

*****

 

He strode into the penance room, locked the door, and grabbed his whip. Throwing himself onto his knees in front of the altar, he began frantically undoing the buttons of his cassock.

The smell of day-old sweat filled the room as Richelieu yanked off his cassock. He didn't even wait to give his prayers before he started flogging himself, the whip cracking violently against his skin.

"Please, Your Eminence. I don't want to die. Please, please!"

He whipped himself harder, his face twisting in anguish. Each crack of the whip purged the memories that taunted him.

The sight of her breasts, her pebbled nipples begging to be licked.

Crack!

Her soft, warm hands sliding over his ribs.

Crack!

The oily clutch of her cunt, the slick heat that swallowed him.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

He dropped the whip, and his face wrenched as he curled forward. He remembered her eyes as she smiled up at him.

When the deacon found him, Richelieu's back was raw and his hair was straggly with sweat. The deacon took a step back, discomfited. Richelieu's eyes slid sideways as the deacon stuttered and handed him his basket.

"Your herbs, Your Eminence. Should I get the physician to make the poultice?"

"No. Leave them."

The deacon hesitated, then slowly set down the basket.

In the days afterward, Richelieu could barely move without the scrape of the fabric rubbing hard against his back. But he was used to the pain; it did little to keep his wicked mind from remembering how she'd held him. At night, when his longing grew to a fever pitch, he'd whip himself again, then beat his chest with the metal spugna, causing purple welts and tender bruises.

Would she kiss his wounds, press her soft lips against the bruises of his chest, were she to see him?

Another tortured cry, and his face wrenched as he clutched the whip, the Holy Mother looking down impassively on him.

The others knew not of his anguish. When they saw him, he was unchanged, arrogant and unaffected.

How good it was, to hold her in the quiet darkness. How, after he'd spent inside of her, she'd wrapped her slender arms around him. His breath would catch when he'd think of it, how this small woman was able to bear the heavy weight of a full-grown man, but he'd sagged atop her, and pressed his face into her bosom, and relished the sweet scent of her sweat as her fingers gently stroked his hair, caressing him.

It wasn't the sex that he'd yearned for, the panicky rush for orgasm. It was the quiet moments afterward. The wish to see her smile shyly as she looked at him.

That night, he lay on his side, because he wasn't able to lie on his back, and remembered how her body had fitted against him.

 

*****

 

She was nuzzling her face against his chest. They had gone to bed, and Richelieu was ready to push the day's humiliation to rest when Shuri rolled on her side to face him, then pushed his nightshirt up, pressing her nose against the meat of his chest.

"Can you not?" he muttered, and he was irritated at himself for how much he liked it. Shuri giggled softly, cuddling him.

"I want to see," Shuri said, pushing him onto his back. Richelieu scowled at her.

"There is nothing to see, go to bed." But he didn't stop her when she pulled his nightshirt off over his head.

She lay back on the pillow, her small hands palming the muscle of his chest. Her fingertips curiously traced his collarbones, then the hollow of his sternum, before she moved forward and pressed soft kisses along his neck. She went to kiss his jaw when he turned his head, catching her lips in a small kiss. She giggled against his mouth and kissed him back, hooking her leg around his hip.

"Oh! The baby," Shuri said, and she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her abdomen. He felt the slight poke and roll of the baby's movements.

They lay together in the quiet darkness, and Shuri's eyes closed, her breathing slow and even. Gingerly, Richelieu reached up to pull back on his nightshirt and adjusted the covers, hitching her close as he curled against her.

"You know, Your Eminence. I used to long for this." Her eyes were still closed as she smiled and nuzzled against him.

"Long for what?" Richelieu asked. Shuri cuddled him.

"This," she said, and her leg tightened around his hip. "You're like a pillow, Your Eminence."

"Go to sleep," he said.

They breathed together in the quiet.

"I really missed you, after the Sex Pollen," Shuri said. Richelieu opened his eyes to study her. She opened her eyes too, and she smiled shyly at him. "Sometimes at night - well, actually every night - I'd lie in bed and imagine us lying together like this. It made me feel lonely, Your Eminence."

"Why were you lonely?" he asked. Shuri shook her head.

"Because I fell in love with you, but you weren't affected."

"I was," he said in a soft voice, barely above the quiet. Shuri shifted as he sighed against her, brushing a kiss to her forehead. "I prayed to God in my anguish, and He saw fit to make you pregnant."

"Heh." Shuri let out a soft laugh, then nuzzled against his neck.

Chapter 25: Weightlift

"I want to see you naked!" Shuri said.

"What?" Richelieu said.

Evidently it wasn't enough to stare at him in the throes of passion - she'd been too preoccupied, she claimed, and since he refused to make love to her, it was only fair that he let her look at him.

"Why?" Richelieu said.

"Because you're absurdly muscular, I want to see your muscles, Your Eminence."

"No."

"Can't you just take off your shirt?"

Richelieu cursed, crossed himself, paced around, then ground out a quick, "Fine," then added if she was so hellbent on tormenting him, he would let her do this, only on the condition that she wouldn't harangue him or ogle him further in the future.

"I won't promise that, since I know you secretly like it," Shuri said. Richelieu scowled, irritated.

He pulled off his shirt in the manner of a scandalized lady stripping for her lascivious husband, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared furiously at her.

"I can't see it if you cover yourself, Your Eminence," Shuri said.

"Woman, this is already inappropriate. Imagine if I were to harass you about wishing to see your breasts."

"I'd show them to you. I'd even let you kiss them."

Richelieu's glare hardened but his face turned red.

"Why are you so muscular?" Shuri asked, making him sit heavily on the bed. She stepped around him, tugging down his arm so she could see the slab of muscle at his chest, at the deep grooves of his muscled ribs and the broad expanse of his back. "You were a priest, it looks like you were training to be a knight instead."

She traced the ropy muscles of his arm, the slight veins that seemed to bulge as his hand closed into a fist. His fingers were scarred - there was a particularly vicious scar by his thumb, which looked like a cross, and there were fine white lines where the barbed tines of a celice had cut into his forearm. "Do you weightlift?"

"What?"

"Lift weights. Jeremy and Nora and the knights do it. They run around the courtyard and lift heavy objects."

Richelieu sighed. "It was a form of penance," he said.

"Really?" Shuri said. She sat next to him, studying the wings of his back, the jagged pink scars that were thin and translucent. Her eyes widened.

"Can you bench press me, Your Eminence?"

"What?"

"Jeremy and Nora did," she said. "Sometimes they made me sit on them while they did push-ups. I wonder if you could do it."

"You might fall off. It's too dangerous, you're pregnant," Richelieu said.

"Can you lift me?" Shuri said, excited. Richelieu snorted.

"I am offended you have to ask that question."

"Really?" Hearts and stars in her eyes as she looked excitedly at him. "I'm really, really heavy."

"You weigh next to nothing," Richelieu said. Shuri patted her belly.

"Don't worry," Shuri said, grinning. "I won't make you prove it. I know you're saving face, Your Eminence."

"I'll not fall for your sorry attempts to manipulate me," Richelieu said.

 

*****

 

Shuri shrieked then started laughing hysterically when Richelieu hoisted her up with one arm and slung her over his shoulder.

He dropped her on the center of the bed, Shuri giggling and holding her belly.

"You are ridiculous," he said, but he seemed pleased with himself, Shuri grinned at him.

"Pick me up again?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Can I sit on you while you do push-ups, Your Eminence? I'll hold onto your back."

"Were you always this imbecilic? I already told you, no."

(He ended up doing push-ups while Shuri sat on his back.)

 

Notes:

Weightlifting as we know it actually started in the 19th century. There were weightlifting and strength training clubs in Austria and Germany, where this story takes place, and was seen as a form of exercise. The first modern weightlifting competition was in London in 1891.

Chapter 26: A Murder in a Carriage

Notes:

Toxic co-dependency, toxic relationships.

Note: parts of Richelieu's dialogue taken from the fic, The Light Outside, and has been edited/re-worded to fit this fic.

Beached whale is a cliché term, but one that Shuri found most appropriate: she looked and felt like a beached whale, heavy and ponderous and unable to get up without rolling on her side, pushing up on her arms, and cantilevering herself off the bed using the swinging of her legs as momentum. When she did finally make it in an upright position, she found herself leaning backwards to counteract the weight of her stomach, which had grown huge and bulbous. Her belly, which at first had the adorable round shape of a bread basket, now was engorged and swallowing up her entire torso. Her skin was stretched so taut, it was shiny and almost like a reflective surface; lacy veins and capillaries spidered up around what was once her belly button, which protruded like a misshapen thumb.

"What's wrong with my ankles?!" Shuri said. She'd had difficulty washing herself - normally Shuri preferred to take her baths by herself, but recently she'd needed the maids to help.

"Don't worry about it, my lady," the maid said. "It happens when you're pregnant." And Shuri looked at how her ankles were grotesquely swollen - she could press her thumb into the spongey flesh and leave a marked thumbprint.

Lack of sleep and general discomfort made her like a raw nerve, more emotional and prone to hysterics.

"Mama, your face is round!" Rachel said, and Shuri burst into tears because her face had become grotesque.

She was sitting in the garden contemplating tasting the flakes of paint that were peeling off the gazebo when Richelieu shouted at the incompetency of her doctors, because no woman in her right mind would want to chew on a piece of painted wood, something was clearly wrong with her.

 

*****

 

"She is likely anemic," the doctor said. "Eat plenty of meat and fruits and vegetables with iron. Apricots, prunes, and spinach will also aid in digestion."

"I can't eat though," Shuri moaned. Richelieu stood in front of her, vexed. She whined into the couch cushions. "My belly is pushing up into my stomach and when I lie down, I burp up acid."

"And you would rather eat paint chips as if they were a tin of biscuits?"

"I didn't eat paint, Your Eminence, I just wanted to taste it."

She shifted and Richelieu noticed the swollen tops of her feet were pushing out from her shoes.

"Why are you wearing this?" he said, irritated. He sat down next to her and put her feet on his lap, prying off her shoes. He scowled at the angry indentation from where the top of her shoe had pressed into her foot. "They are clearly too small for you."

He began trying to push the indentation out, smoothing down the swelling into something less offensive. Shuri craned her neck.

"Well this is something," Shuri said. "I never thought you'd rub my feet, Your Eminence."

Richelieu scoffed. "The state of your legs is offensive."

"Huh."

The worst part was the false contractions. She would be reading a book or walking in the garden when her womb would tighten to an unbearable stiffness. The first time it happened, Shuri staggered, trying to catch her breath.

"My lady, are you keeping hydrated?" Gwen asked, and the maids hurried to get her water and handed her a glass.

Richelieu found her surrounded by pitchers of juice and water, the maids who were mothers admonishing her to drink it. It astonished him how much his wife would very much rather eat paint chips.

"It's just ice," Shuri said, crunching a cup. Richelieu scowled at her.

"You would do well to drink it."

"Ice is water, I don't see the difference."

Richelieu sighed and rubbed his head.

 

*****

 

"I feel so hot," Shuri moaned. "And then cold and then my hips hurt, I can barely move." She felt like the maids had to roll her around like a beach ball.

"What if I die?" Shuri said, apropos of nothing. Richelieu stopped. Death during childbirth wasn't uncommon, but it was something Richelieu studiously avoided thinking about.

He cautiously sat down. "If I remember rightly, you'd included provisions for either of our deaths in the marriage contract," he said. Shuri slid her hand over her bump, wearing a pensive expression.

"I was just waiting for the day for this to come out," she said, and as if in answer, the baby rolled and poked his butt beneath Shuri's palm. "But I was thinking, Your Eminence. What if something happens to me? What if what I'm waiting for is my death?"

"You said you've escaped it before," Richelieu said. "You never told me what happened."

Shuri was quiet for a moment. Richelieu gently asked, "Did you survive a carriage accident?" and Shuri lifted her head.

"Why do you ask?" she said. He gestured.

"From the absurd amount of guards you take for longer rides, and how you always seem so nervous, particularly if the path cuts through the forest," Richelieu said.

"Oh," Shuri said. Her fingers knitted together. "My carriage was attacked by bandits."

"That must have been frightening. I take it the guards rescued you, then?"

Shuri turned to face him.

Richelieu was sitting next to her wearing a patient expression, and Shuri realized he still didn't understand what she'd told him that day before they were splashed with Sex Pollen - he'd assumed that she survived something horrific, just as he did. He'd told her before about his near drowning, how the bridge collapsed and how he'd been swept up by the torrents. It was dumb luck that he survived, which he'd ascribed to divine intervention.

"No, Your Eminence," Shuri said. Her eyes flicked upward. "I actually died." Richelieu stiffened.

"It sounds fantastic," Shuri said, and she looked down again. "But I was killed by bandits. I remember the sword going through my stomach. And then I woke up and I was sixteen again."

Richelieu stared at her a long moment. "God brought you back," he said. Shuri nodded.

He stood, rubbing his face, agitated. Shuri clasped her hands on her lap, watching him.

"You say you were attacked by bandits?" he asked. Shuri nodded.

"Yes," Shuri said. "It was the day of Jeremy's wedding. We didn't have a good relationship then. He didn't want me to be there, so I left for Heidelberg. It was actually quite heartbreaking." Shuri let out a soft laugh. A tear slipped. She wiped it away hopefully before he could see it. "It hurt my feelings," she admitted. "The first thing I did when I came back to the past was to make amends to my children."

He seemed stunned. Shuri watched him.

"A miracle," he murmured. His eyes slid up towards hers. "You truly are one of God's chosen."

Any other man would find it difficult to believe her, but Richelieu was a man steeped in faith, who personally experienced a miracle that night in the river, when he was saved.

 

****

 

She told him everything. Everything about her first life, her struggles in the second. How she used her foreknowledge to inject herself in the church and nobles' politics. Richelieu nodded.

"So that was why you funded the Christmastide festival. You knew the commoners would riot."

"Yes," Shuri said. Richelieu's face was grim.

"And you also knew this was a part of the church's machinations."

"Yes," Shuri said again. Richelieu paced a little, then sat down next to her.

"In your first life," he said, "did you and I also clash then?"

"No, Your Eminence. In fact, my first life, you and I never actually met."

Richelieu considered. "You said you were killed by bandits?"

"I was," Shuri said. "I was traveling to Heidelberg when my carriage was ambushed by them."

"Were you unguarded?"

"No, I had two knights with me, but we were surrounded."

"That is most unusual. The presence of knights should have deterred them."

He frowned, his brow furrowed in concentration. "You must have been assassinated," Richelieu said.

"What?" Shuri said.

"Your carriage was likely not attacked by ordinary bandits. You were most likely attacked by paladins disguised as Safavids."

"Paladins?" Shuri said. Richelieu stood up, agitated.

"Of course, paladins," he said. He ran his hand through his hair. "I wouldn't be surprised if I was the one who orchestrated it."

"I don't understand," Shuri said.

"A killing of the widowed Marchioness at the hands of Safavid bandits," Richelieu said. "It would be easy to manipulate the bereaved Lion and give us cause to invade the Safavids. A killing of two birds with one stone, in fact."

"You...." Shuri's hand cupped her abdomen. "You were the one who orchestrated my death?" There was a touch of horror in her voice as she realized this. "How do you know that?" she asked. He gently took her hand.

"It is what I would have done, should I have lived it," Richelieu said.

Shuri's face wrenched. She turned away from him.

"God gave us this chance," Richelieu said. His grip on her hand tightened. "He brought us together and blessed us with this child. There is a reason He wants us to walk the same path."

"You said you were the one who killed me," Shuri said.

She loved him. She loved him even after all the things he'd done to her, after he'd put her through all that torment. She loved him and after taking the antidote, she thought she could continue to love him with her eyes open.

But now Shuri felt herself falter.

"My lady--" Richelieu began, as tears filled Shuri's eyes as she bowed her head.

"Why do you call me that?" she said. "My name is Shuri. You're my husband."

"It is probably for the same reason you insist on calling me Your Eminence," Richelieu said. Tears rolled down the sides of Shuri's face as she took in a sobbing breath.

"Why would you hurt me?" she cried, and she hugged him, and Richelieu felt grateful she was still comforted by him. A deep pang settled at the center of his chest. He rested his cheek on her head.

"What were you planning to do if we weren't splashed by Sex Pollen?" Shuri asked. Richelieu's grip around her tightened.

"I would threaten to burn you at the stake unless you submitted to me and absconded to the monastery."

Shuri sniffed, her tears soaking the fabric of Richelieu's sternum. "I thought you said you loved me," she said.

"I do. And I did," Richelieu said. He held her. "But as I told you, I resented you for making me desire you."

"So you would burn me at the stake because you wanted me?"

"Because it would serve the Church, but yes," he admitted. They pulled away. Richelieu hung his head.

Shuri gave him a watery smile. "I still love you," she said, and he lifted his eyes to look at her. She smiled but her eyes were wet and swollen. "I suppose that must make me foolish," she said.

"No," he said hoarsely. He shook his head. "No. You inhabit the Holy Mother's divine forgiveness. I do not deserve it."

"We don't actually know if it was you," Shuri said, taking his hand and pressing it to her stomach. The baby kicked. "I'm pretty sure it was bandits."

"I would bet my life it was the church's machinations, and that I was the architect," Richelieu said.

"Even so," Shuri said, and her grip around his hand tighten. "This life, it didn't happen."

 

 

Notes:

Pica is a symptom of anemia where one craves clay, ice, soil, or paper. Pregnant people can develop pica often when they're low on minerals like iron or zinc.

Chapter 27: Secret (Murder in a Carriage, part 2)

They would call her battle-hardened. The so-called spider widow of iron and blood. It was little wonder, then, that she could go toe-to-toe with him - she was used to hiding her soft heart and baring her fangs to those who threatened them.

But Richelieu could see that she was girlish. Her disposition was a cheerful one, a sort of sunny innocence. She liked hugs and little animals and especially loved her children.

Whereas before, Richelieu had met them with mild annoyance, now he felt nothing but contempt.

"That was in the past," Shuri said, but it incensed him. They treated her like garbage. "Your Eminence, it wasn't them."

Richelieu's fist tightened. "They mocked you and threw rocks at you," he said. "And they didn't appreciate all you did for them."

Shuri stammered. "Well--"

"Did you not say they laughed at you, when you showed them your heartbreak? Wasn't your earnest wish just to see that miserable fool at his wedding? And yet they cast you out, and you still showed them forgiveness."

Shuri gestured. "Well technically, Your Eminence, you were the one who ordered my murder, so--"

"You were not my family," Richelieu said. He whirled around. "I am not so evil as to cast my own mother out."

Shuri blinked. "You think my children are evil?"

"At the very least, they are ungrateful."

"Weren't you going to execute me?" Shuri said. "You were going to burn me at the stake - that's a lot worse than being kicked out of the guest list for a wedding."

Richelieu made an irritated sound. Shuri huffed at him.

"Your Eminence, my children made mistakes, but that's just it: they're children. I was and am their caretaker, I'm responsible for them."

"You see young Jeremy as your child, then?"

Shuri demurred, "Well, not exactly, but I was still responsible for him."

"And so you will overlook their abysmal treatment?"

Shuri raised her eyebrows. "The kettle calling the pot black, Your Eminence?" Richelieu scowled.

"That is different."

"How is it different?"

"I am fully aware of the extent of my sins," Richelieu said. "Whereas those children of yours are blissfully ignorant."

"I wasn't a good mother to them," Shuri said. She twisted her skirt in her hands. "Their mother died, and I wasn't close to them. They only saw me pretend to take a lover to protect the Neuschwanstein fortune."

"You must tell them what they did," Richelieu said. Shuri started.

"What? No! I can't tell them I came back to the past - they'd lock me in an insane asylum!"

"Am I the only one who knows your secret?" Richelieu asked. Shuri nodded.

"Yes. And I would appreciate it if you kept it," Shuri said.

 

*****

 

Jeremy was cutting across the courtyard when he noticed Richelieu was glaring at him harder than usual. "Uh," Jeremy said, his eyes narrowing uncomfortably. "Hello." Richelieu stared stonily at him. Jeremy sweated. "What is it?"

"I very much wonder how you'd react if I were to throw rocks at your head."

"HAH?"

"Just a thought experiment, pay no mind to it."

Chapter 28: Not a Deacon

"Bishop?" the deacon said. "But I just became a priest - I thought you had to be a priest for five years before you could be nominated?"

"That is true," the bishop said, "but the bishops of the province all discussed it - what with Meissner's excommunication and Wurst's untimely death, and now with Cardinal Braun being implicated in the Sex Pollen Poison..." the bishop spread his hands. "With Richelieu gone, half the cardinals college has been emptied, and we're in the process of nominating new cardinals from the current bench of bishops."

"Well I'm flattered," the deacon said. "But surely there are priests better suited to be nominated?" The bishop sighed, scratching his head.

"It is...well, it is customary to nominate at least three priests for every bishop," the bishop said. "And three bishops for every cardinal. And with all these vacancies, well. We had to make exceptions."

"I see," the deacon said.

 

*****

 

The deacon liked being a priest. He had a taken over the parish of a little church outside the village. The villagers were kind folk, and the deacon's simple faith had bolstered and uplifted them.

"But I like my parish," the deacon said, crestfallen. The bishops frowned at him.

"So you decline your canonical appointment as bishop?"

The deacon fidgeted. "If it serves God, then I shall do it," the deacon said.

"Good," the bishop said.

 

*****

 

"Alberon," the deacon said, sitting at the tavern. He slumped his shoulders. "Pope Eugene has appointed me a bishop."

"Really? Congratulations!" Alberon said. The deacon's shoulders hunched further.

"What if I don't know what I'm doing? I'll never be able to fill the shoes of His Eminence," the deacon said.

"You don't have to worry about that," Alberon said. "Just do your best when you become bishop. Who knows? Maybe they won't harass you after the new cardinals are appointed."

 

*****

 

"It seems the rot has spread amongst the fruit," the Empress said.

The deacon sweated. He was here, in the middle of the Council of Nobles, listening with the other bishops as a whole slew of old cardinals were paraded out in handcuffs. The regents read out the list of crimes for the crowd: embezzlement, stealing from the poor and from the Church. Racketeering and illegal gambling houses and even illicit drug use.

"We should nominate the blonde one to become the new cardinal," one of the cardinals said. They snickered, looking at him. "He would be easy to persuade."

"But wasn't he one of Richelieu's?" another cardinal asked. The other cardinal shrugged.

"He is but a lost lamb looking for a firm hand to guide him," the cardinal said. "He won't get in our way; he has no ambitions. The perfect seat warmer to fill the college and not oppose us when we set things in motion!"

 

*****

 

"Cardinal?!" the deacon said. His buggy eyes were wide with horror. "But I've just been ordained a priest six months ago, I just became a bishop, you're nominating me as cardinal?!"

"You are not the only one," the cardinal sniffed his disapproval. "There are many erstwhile priests cum bishops in the same position as you."

"Oh dear," the deacon said.

He went to the bench of bishops, where a few of his compatriots were also sweating their newest appointments. "They just named me a bishop a few weeks ago - now I'm nominated to be cardinal."

"Me too," the deacon said. The young bishop was stricken.

 

*****

 

"You should be proud. God has sought fit to reward you for your devotion," Richelieu said. The deacon (now bishop) stammered.

"But Your Eminence, it's a leadership role, and I'm not a leader, I'm having a hard enough time as a bishop--"

"How so?" Richelieu said. The deacon balked.

"Everyone keeps telling me different things," the deacon said, fidgeting. "Whispering in my ear and trying to influence me."

"And are you influenced?"

"No, I just think to myself, what would His Eminence do? And I follow that thinking."

"Excellent," Richelieu said. "Continue to do that."

"But--"

"And report to me if you see anything suspicious."

"Oh! Yes, yes."

 

*****

 

"There will be much infighting. They will vote for themselves, but my hands and feet have been promoted. They will vote for him to become pope, I am certain of it."

"Haa." Shuri rubbed her head.

Chapter 29: Pope Eugene's Visit

Notes:

Rape mention, imagined violence

It was Richelieu who subtly started the rumor: that the bug-eyed, blonde-haired deacon was a complete simpleton, easily manipulated and good to have in higher office. Pope Eugene laughed merrily at this, for Richelieu was Eugene's dutiful servant - clearly Richelieu still worked for God and for Eugene through the blonde deacon. Eugene heartily endorsed the deacon's appointment.

"You say he should be cardinal too?" Eugene said. Richelieu nodded. The boy was, as Eugene was concerned, still as dull-eyed and serious as ever, and Eugene had no doubt Richelieu's fealty to him.

"And how goes your marriage?" Eugene asked, as Richelieu started putting away his papers. Richelieu sighed and shook his head.

"She took the antidote to the poison, whereupon she realized the church's intentions and forced me to sign a marriage contract."

Eugene scowled at him. "I hope, dear boy, that you have a plan for this?"

"It is difficult to act when the lady and her children are both suspicious," Richelieu said. He spread his hands. "I am alone in this. Whereas in the church, I had my hands and feet who could act at my behest."

"She is heavily pregnant," Eugene said. "A pity you had not secured the position as Neuschwanstein head. I assume that was explicitly forbidden in the marriage contract?"

"Indeed." Richelieu sighed. "In point of fact, she drew it up before she took the antidote. She is a distrustful and disdainful woman."

"You know, there are other poisons besides Sex Pollen. Cantarella, for instance," Eugene said. Richelieu stiffened. "Ah, but her death would be quite pointless. If God saw fit, He would take her during childbirth. But that would not advance the church's purpose." Eugene stroked his chin.

There were indeed other poisons. Poisons that were odorless and tasteless, that could be easily tipped into a teacup and ingested. Richelieu watched as Pope Eugene lifted his cup and took a delicate sip, and regretted mightily that his wife had forbidden the murder of his enemies, though that would be the easiest.

"Continue to keep your eyes open," Pope Eugene said, rising. Richelieu stood and bowed at him.

"I will indeed, Your Holiness."

"A pity," Eugene said. He lay a wizened hand on Richelieu's shoulder. "I had hoped at least you'd experience the joys of a marriage bed."

"We have not," Richelieu said. Eugene snickered.

"You could always insist on your marital duty as her husband. She is small and frail. Easy to hold down, if you catch my drift." Eugene winked at him. How easy would it be to bash this old man's face in? How simple it would be to commit one simple act of violence?

He watched in the courtyard as His Holiness carefully stepped into the carriage.

"I wish to kill him," Richelieu said under his breath, Shuri coming next to him. "If only I had access to him, I would smother him in his bed."

"As long as you don't act on it," Shuri said.

Chapter 30: Pope Eugene’s Visit, part 2

“I know what we should do if you die,” Richelieu said, and he handed Shuri the papers. “You will copy this letter I’ve written and send it to the empress. If you die, she will receive in your handwriting proof of the Church’s wrongdoings, including a plan to weaken you with poison.”

Shuri studied the papers. In its retelling, Shuri would be writing a note detailing how the Church planned to manipulate Jeremy in his grief, to frame Shuri’s poisoning by blaming the Safavids. “You would be implicated,” Shuri said, setting down the papers. Richelieu nodded.

“Yes.”

“But who would take care of the baby if you’re imprisoned? Who would take care of the children?”

“Your children would fall under the auspices of young Jeremy, who would ascend as the Neuschwanstein head.” He sat down next to her. “Copy what I’ve written. Should you die, I will send it. The empress will investigate the Church after your death.”

Shuri stood up, agitated. Her face wrenched.

“You should be worrying about our baby, not finding a way to exploit my death!”

“You are angry,” Richelieu said.

“Yes, I am angry. I’m furious.” Her eyes were wet and shining. “I’m afraid of dying, but instead of comforting me, you’ve come up with this harebrained scheme to manipulate the empress! You’d be executed, Your Eminence! You think I’d willingly write your death sentence? I love you! You’re my husband!”

She started crying. Richelieu stood up to hold her.

“Do you want me to die? Is that it?” Shuri cried, and Richelieu held her tighter.

“Of course not. But if God takes you, I had hoped to use it to a greater end.”

Shuri sniffed, then pulled away from him.

“Is this all I have to write?” she asked, sitting on the couch. Richelieu sat next to her.

“Yes.”

Shuri’s eyes were wet. She miserably nodded. “Should I date it, then?”

“When your water breaks, we will backdate it two weeks before then.”

“So whilst I labor, I’ll need to remember to date these documents.” Shuri rubbed her face, exhausted.

“Understand,” Richelieu said. “You are my purpose. If you die, my fervent wish is to join you in heaven.”

Shuri let out a mirthless laugh. “I thought you said your soul was damned.” Richelieu rested his cheek on her head.

“One can always hope for salvation.”

Chapter 31: Documents (Pope Eugene’s Visit, part 3)

“I need to sign some papers!” Shuri cried, before she let out a gut-wrenching scream, doubling over as the midwives ran up to her.

“What? Papers?!” Jeremy said, before Richelieu shoved him aside, holding out a stack of papers.

“Out! Out!” the midwives said. They pushed Jeremy and Richelieu out of the chambers.

 

*****

 

She was a small, pale shape at the center of the bed. Richelieu approached, heart in his throat, as Shuri cracked her eyes open at him.

“Did you see the baby?” she asked, and she smiled weakly. Her skin was so pale it was almost gray, her hair stuck in damp strands to her forehead.

“The midwives have her,” Richelieu said, and he pressed his palm to her forehead.

“She looks like you,” Shuri said, smiling at him, before she closed her eyes again.

The postpartum period was the most dangerous. She could still die from blood loss or infection.

He was a dark, unmoving shape when Jeremy stepped in the room followed by the other children.

“I burned those papers,” Jeremy said in a low voice. Richelieu didn’t move, but his eyes slightly widened. “If she dies, you need to suffer like the rest of us.”

“Mama,” Rachel said, stricken. Shuri smiled weakly at her.

Chapter 32: Baby

"Why is our baby lying on the floor?!" Shuri said.

"Because she will not fall if she's on the floor," Richelieu said.

He looked at her with an uninterested expression, as if what he said was perfectly reasonable and obvious. Shuri sputtered, turned around, looked at their baby sleeping peacefully swaddled in a tight bundle, then opened her mouth to try to argue his logic. Nothing came of it. She screwed her face up.

"I'm not letting our baby sleep on the floor," Shuri said, and she stooped to scoop the baby up.

"Careful now, she is resting," Richelieu started, but as soon as Shuri's hands slid under the baby's bottom, the baby whimpered, then screwed her little face up, then began to wail with high-screeching sounds.

"Oh no, oh no, the baby's crying!" Shuri said, and she looked around for the maid servants who had more experience. Richelieu sighed.

"Give her to me."

"What?"

"Give me her unless you plan to nurse her," Richelieu said, and the baby wailed louder.

"I need to unbutton my blouse, take her!" Shuri said, and she scrambled to yank her breast out.

Silence. As soon as Shuri fished out her breast, she saw that Richelieu had stuck his finger in the baby's mouth.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"I stopped her from crying," Richelieu said.

"I was getting ready to nurse her, why is she sucking on your fingers?!"

"I could not find the pacifier," Richelieu said, offended, and Shuri made a frustrated noise and took her. The baby yawned, then wobbled, rooting to latch. She stuffed her breast into the baby's mouth like a sandwich. Shuri sank into the chair, cradling the baby to her breast. Wordlessly Richelieu disappeared, but came back again with a pitcher of water.

"Thanks," Shuri said. The baby suckled, taking deep swallows, eyes closing in milky bliss. The baby's hands were like paw prints, kneading Shuri's breast.

After the birth, they moved to the villa in Heidelberg. He needed to be away from the capital to hide his influence on the young deacon-now-cardinal, and the nobles needed reassurance that Jeremy could make decisions without Richelieu's interference. But mostly, Richelieu and Jeremy both felt Shuri would benefit - she needed time alone with her baby, without the pressures of babysitting Elias (who, one could argue, was the only one of the Neuschwanstein children who needed active parenting: Jeremy was of age, Leon was smarter than Jeremy, and after her engagement to the Safavid Prince, Rachel wanted to prove herself a mature young lady).

"I don't like that Elias and the twins are alone with their governesses," Shuri said. She rocked the baby to her breast, frowning at him. "They're still too young. I fear what will happen if I'm not with them."

"Are they not the same age as your first life, when you planned to leave them?" Richelieu asked.

"I guess," Shuri said. "But I had hoped, once I remarried, that they would be good siblings to my other children."

It was lonely without them. Shuri stared out at the window, depressed. Gwen had been among the voices urging her to leave the capital, insisting it would be a chance to get much needed rest. "Just focus on yourself and the baby," Gwen had said. "After a few months, you can come back."

It was much too quiet. Richelieu worked in silence, and the baby often slept for long hours, leaving Shuri tired and restless. The maids tended the baby while Shuri slept, but during her waking hours, she still felt fragile and on edge. Her breasts would ache with milk just before the baby breastfed, and if she or Richelieu so much as brushed a hand against her bosom, she would let down another spurt of milk, much to Shuri's embarrassment.

"I wish to see my children," Shuri said, standing in the doorway and holding the baby to her breast. Richelieu sighed and set down his pen.

"And here I had thought we'd finally been rid of them."

"They need to get to know their little sister," Shuri said. Wordlessly Richelieu stood up and took the baby from her.

The baby really looked like him. Shuri watched as the father held his baby daughter, and was struck by their similar features: dark hair and dark eyes, and even the slight dark circles giving the baby a tired, exhausted look. Sometimes, when the baby nursed, her dark eyes would stare up at Shuri's face, and Shuri would smile to herself at how similar they looked, like a little baby Eminence latched onto her.

"What is it?" Richelieu said. Shuri shook her head.

"She really does look like a miniature version of you."

"How unfortunate for her," he said, looking gravely at the baby, who stared up at him, unblinking. The baby gurgled, then reached a little hand to paw at him.

Chapter 33: Baby, part 2

"That's a really ugly baby," Elias said.

"Elias!" Rachel said, and elbowed him.

Leon frowned at the baby. "Mother, don't you think she looks sick?"

"Sick?" Shuri said. She peered in the crib. The baby looked up at them, curious. "She looks fine, what do you mean she looks sick?"

"She's so pale though - and those dark circles don't look normal," Leon said.

"She looks just like Richelieu, though," Shuri said.

They peered down at the baby again. Her dark eyes were sunken and her skin was deathly pale, and there were wispy fine dark hairs pulsing by the soft spot of her head.

"Wow," Jeremy said, under his breath. Leon shook his head. Elias started to laugh until Rachel elbowed him again.

"Don't laugh, you idiot," she hissed.

"Why? She looks just like him!"

Shuri beamed at them. "That's right, Elias. She's pretty just like him," she said.

"HAH?" Elias said. Jeremy groaned and covered his forehead.

Chapter 34: Making Up, part 2 (explicit)

Notes:

Hurt/comfort, fellatio, PIV sex. Opens with a flashback

The night Shuri took the antidote, the night she'd gone to the church and found Richelieu whipping himself, she'd walked back home with him hand-in-hand, leading him without fanfare back to their bed. She whispered a brief word to the maids for a basin of warm water and clean cloth, then went back to the bedroom, where Richelieu was undressing. Already, the shirt was saturated - dried blood stuck to the fabric as he peeled it off his skin, and Shuri winced as the wounds on his back re-opened. He didn't seem to notice the maid quietly setting down the salve and the basin, nor when Shuri nodded gratefully at Gwen, who disappeared back out the door again.

"After this you should take a bath," Shuri said. He glanced behind his shoulder as she dipped the cloth in the basin, sitting next to him. "Let me wipe this."

He bowed his head, let her fingers splay over the bumps of his neck. His hair was stringy with sweat, but she brushed it back with her fingertips. She carefully raised the cloth to his back.

The triangle of muscle at his neck, which spanned across his shoulders and were bordered by the wings of his back, was covered in angry scars, the path of the whip digging another bloody groove into them. Shuri carefully wiped off the crust of blood that had begun flaking around the skin, carefully not to touch the open parts, dipping the cloth back into the basin, before smoothing over his spine and lower back.

Shuri's voice was soft. "You use herbs to pack them?"

"They make a poultice," Richelieu said, his head still bowed forward. Every time she touched him, his eyes closed. He let out a quiet breath, her fingers grazing his skin. "You needn't do this."

"If I don't, you'll bleed all over the bed."

His mouth quirked at that. Shuri smiled, then pressed a kiss at the cap of muscle by his shoulder, then stroked spot she'd kissed with her thumb.

"I'm sorry," Shuri said, and Richelieu looked up. Shuri smiled sadly at him. "I'm sorry I yelled at you before taking the antidote, Your Eminence."

Richelieu was quiet. "Why do you call me that? I gave up my vows. You should call me 'Erwin.'"

Shuri let out a soft laugh. His frown deepened. "What is it?" he said. Shuri giggled at him.

"You don't look like an Erwin," she said. She hugged his shoulders, careful not to touch his back.

"What do I look like, then?"

"You look like a 'Your Eminence.' Shall I call you 'Honey' or 'Darling' instead?"

"Please don't," Richelieu said, scowling, and Shuri giggled, dropping her forehead against his neck. She tilted her head up to kiss him.

His dry, soft lips parted a little as they kissed, and Shuri palmed his face, the hollow angle of it. They kissed again, and it was soft and delicate.

She sighed against his lip. "Um, I don't suppose...." Shuri's fingers grazed over his lap, feeling the small log of his erection. Richelieu broke away and bowed his head.

"I am your wife," she reminded him, "and the sex is unitive."

"I am not sure I can perform with the state of my back," Richelieu said, humiliated, but Shuri smiled at him.

"Then," she started, and she slid her hand into his pants, "perhaps we should do this, then."

"Spilling my seed is a sin," he started, but Shuri fished him out, her soft hand closing over his shaft, her lips parting and her breath ghosting over his tip.

Her soft, warm mouth closed over him, and Richelieu gasped and flailed, disoriented. She bobbed her head, her saliva wetting his shaft as she stroked him with one closed fist.

He pushed her back, shoving her onto the bed. Shuri laughed, delighted, as he yanked down her dress. There were too many layers - he'd felt as though he'd been dosed with Sex Pollen again.

He sank inside her, her warm cunt swallowing him.

"How is your back?" she asked into his neck, as he began to thrust in earnest. He hadn't fully taken off his pants, so they bunched around his knees as Shuri lifted her hips, her skirts and dress catching between them.

"Fine," he gritted, pressing his cheek into her neck, and for a moment he lost himself in the pleasured spot where they were connected.

The pains of his back were a sharp contrast - each pleasured thrust met with the painful splitting of his wounds at his back, and as he felt the pleasure tighten, so too did the pain sharpen.

When he came, it was like a rope stretched taut, which finally snapped, and he was breathing heavily against her ear, the pain disappearing as his body sagged and his awareness shifting to the good feeling of his ejaculation. Sexual release had been furtive, the brief pleasure of his orgasm followed soon after with self-loathing and humiliation for being unable to overcome his baser impulses. But here now, he was with his wife, who was cupping his face and smiling warmly at him. They kissed again and he felt himself pulse, and felt the answering clutch of her cunt as she spasmed beneath him.

"I love you," she said, and the words overwhelmed him. He pressed his face against her neck and held her, clutching her against him.

She giggled at him again, her legs moving to rest against his ribs. "You're still inside me, Your Eminence."

"I told you to call me 'Erwin.'"

"And I told you, you don't look like an Erwin, you look like a 'Your Eminence.'"

"What does an Erwin look like?" he asked, and Shuri considered.

"Someone shy," she said, lacing her fingers between his. "Bookish. Someone who'd get beaten up by knights if he challenged them."

"I am not so foolish as to go against an actual knight," he said. He considered. "I'd probably find some way to manipulate them."

"I doubt you could talk your way out of a knight swinging a sword at your head."

"You'd be surprised. I'm quite skilled at manipulating idiots," he said, and sighed against her neck. He closed his eyes as her arms rested around him. "In my youth, I was quite bookish."

"I can imagine," she said. She hitched him to her breast, careful not to touch the wounds on his back.

 

*****

 

After the birth of their child, after their move to Heidelberg and after their return so Shuri could visit her children, Richelieu hung in the background as she chatted amiably with them. She sparkled. Her eyes creased into two crescents as she laughed with them, beams of sun from the window spotlighting her. Motes of dust floated in the sun, and she seemed to sparkle. Her green eyes were filled with mirth as her children talked to her. She looked happy and beautiful.

"You miss me?" she asked, coming up to him, after the children left. Richelieu scowled.

"I did not wish to intrude on your reunion."

"Oh?"

She wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you for coming with me, Your Eminence."

"Of course I would come with you. Why would I let you and our child travel alone in that carriage?"

She smiled contentedly and rested her ear against his chest.

Chapter 35: Kissing (explicit)

Notes:

Kissing, frottage, lactation during sex, awkward sexual situations, woman on top, masturbation, creampie, PIV sex

He wasn’t a good kisser. The first time they kissed, she assumed it was the Sex Pollen - they were both too frantic and desperate to kiss with any consideration.

The second time they kissed, after Shuri tearfully told Richelieu she was pregnant, it was a fine enough kiss - the reassuring type, a soft kiss on the forehead. He held her and she felt comforted by him.

But the night after they got married, Shuri was met with the full force of Richelieu’s inexperience.

He pushed her down, and his mouth was wet and hot, and his tongue licked deep into her mouth. There was no finesse, just a sucking, swiping motion, breathing hard through his nose while scooping her up, his groin kneading desperately against hers. He pulled up, then pushed his face against hers, accidentally clacking his teeth against her incisors. Shuri took in a sharp breath but was met with his tongue licking into her mouth again.

Truthfully, she was too distracted by the hard knot of his erection cupped against her pubis, the pleasured friction making up for his terrible kissing.

 

*****

 

“Slower,” she breathed one day, her lips swollen from his frantic kisses. He pulled up, his hair disheveled and his brow furrowed, before Shuri lifted her head and kissed him the way she wanted to be kissed, softly and slowly and languid.

His frown deepened. “Did your husband kiss you like that?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone, Your Eminence. Just you and the children.”

He leaned forward, and shyly, almost tentatively, tried kissing her the way she wanted. His lips felt cool and his mouth was wet. He pulled back, embarrassed.

She giggled and pressed her head to his forehead. “I like that,” she said.

 

******

 

Most of the time, he remembered. Shuri liked that she’d been the one to teach him.

But sometimes, usually when he was mid-thrust and overwhelmed with sensation, he’d start kissing her hard, pressing his tongue into her mouth. Their teeth would clack, her mouth would glisten with his saliva and her lips would be red and swollen, and sometimes he’d latch onto her neck, open-mouth kissing and sucking at her skin.

 

*****

 

“You’re not a good kisser,” Shuri said, fondly. Richelieu frowned at her. She hugged him sweetly. “Don’t worry, I think it’s cute.”

Richelieu scowled. “Why is it every time we are intimate you find a way to insult me?” Richelieu said.

“Because you’re arrogant enough to think I’m wrong, but you have no problem indulging me.”

Richelieu narrowed his eyes at her. She grinned and sat him on the bed, then straddled him on his lap.

“Did you not say you’re still healing?” he said.

“I am. We’re just going to practice kissing, we’re not having sex.”

Richelieu frowned at her. “I don’t see the point in this,” he said.

“Well isn’t there anything you’d like me to practice?”

“It is fine,” Richelieu said. Shuri bit her lip.

“I guess it doesn’t matter so long as you can stick it in—“

“Damn it,” Richelieu said, then crossed himself. Shuri giggled at him.

She rested her arms around his shoulders, adjusting herself on his lap. Grinning, she leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss.

“See? I don’t like that,” Shuri said, straightening, and Richelieu glared at her, furious. She giggled and cupped his cheek. “You close your mouth when you should deepen it.”

Richelieu muttered, “I am in a compromised position.”

“What? You mean this?” she said, and she pushed down with her pelvis, grinding on him.

He let out a shaky breath, then pushed her back. “It will be...uncomfortable...for me.”

“So if we keep going, you won’t be able to stop?”

“What? Of course I can stop. I would just prefer not to wait it out.” Shuri had forgotten as a priest, he’d be used to ignoring this sort of thing, even though it was physically uncomfortable. It seemed oddly sweet that it didn’t occur to him to force her.

“Do you want to try?” she asked. She leaned into his chest, speaking into his ear. “I think I’m healed enough to.”

He shook his head. “That is a terrible idea. I don’t wish to hurt you.”

“We can stop if it hurts,” she said, resting atop him. Funny she could be straddling his lap and having a perfectly fine conversation.

She kissed him, and beneath her pelvis, she could feel him thicken and harden.

“We had better not,” he said, breaking away from her. Shuri frowned.

“Why not?”

“You may feel ready, but I fear I may hurt you.”

“What if I’m on top?” she asked in a soft voice. He looked up at her. “I can control it. You just stay still. If it hurts, I’ll stop.”

He wavered a moment. “If it is in the marriage bed, it’s not an act of fornication,” he said, but he seemed unsure of his logic. Shuri grinned and kissed him.

She unbuttoned his shirt, then slid the fabric down his arms, her palms cresting over his shoulders. His shoulders were absurdly broad and muscular, and Shuri paused a moment to admire the deep grooves near his clavicle.

"I still don't understand how you're like this," Shuri said, fingering his clavicle. He sighed, resting his head against her head.

"I told you: it was a form of penance," he said, and she kissed him.

Slow, steady breathing. She kissed him in time with her pelvis, which she rocked slowly over him. He let out a shuddery breath as she pushed down the sleeves of her night dress.

Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slack, and she was focusing on that good feeling rubbing against his hardness, when she realized too late that he'd shifted his head to mouth at her breast. "Wait, don't do that--"

Milk squirted out. Richelieu reared back.

"Sorry!" Shuri said, and she pressed her forearm firmly against her breast, stifling the letdown reflex.

"Did you...?" he struggled to compute. "Was that....?"

"Yes," Shuri said, her face red. She covered her face in her hands, still sitting on him. "I can't believe that happened."

Richelieu frowned and poked at her breast. "Does it feel the same when the child nurses you?"

"No, it's different."

"How so?"

Shuri slowly lowered her hands. "When you kiss them, you're running your tongue against the tips. The baby nurses, my nipple is all the way in the back, she just suckles the skin by my breast. It's no different than squeezing your calf."

She peeled off her forearm; her nipples were pebbled, beads of milk at the tips.

"Um," Shuri glanced at her breasts, then back at him. "Do you want to try it?"

"Why must you always bring me to temptation?" he said, irritated. She daubed her finger in the milk, then held it to his lips.

"Try it," she said. Richelieu scowled, then cautiously kissed her fingertip.

"It is sweet," he said, and for a moment, his curiosity seemed to get the better of him. Shuri was still leaking. Carefully she daubed her fingertips to her other nipple, then held it out for him.

"I cannot believe I'm supping from your breast. Surely this is an abject sin."

"Could we try again?" Shuri asked. She realized he had softened.

"I'll be sure not to touch your breasts," Richelieu said, grave and serious. Shuri tried not to laugh at him.

They scooted up on the bed, Shuri still straddling him. Her knees sank into the mattress as she kissed him.

By now they were both shirtless. Richelieu's hands came to rest at her waist, the fabric of her skirts bunching up at her hips. She pushed herself on her knees, letting him tug off the rest of her nightdress.

When she reached for his pants, she could see his tip bulging from the waistband. Her fingers traced along his shaft as she unbuttoned him.

He was stiffer and harder than she'd remembered him, the thin skin a deep, purplish red. She slid her fingers around his shaft, and was surprised at how stiff he felt - he was so swollen, she could barely lift his erection from his abdomen.

"Don't move," Shuri whispered, and aimed him at her entrance.

She tortured him with the feel of her moist, warm crevice, slowly swallowing him. She stopped, resting her weight into the palms of her hands, which she dug into the mattress, then tried lowering herself again.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking up at her, fighting the urge to thrust up into her. Shuri nodded, her face red.

"Just a moment."

Another torturous movement downwards. He gasped as his penis twitched.

"Sorry," Shuri said, her voice strained, as she leaned over his chest. His thighs tightened beneath her.

"We should stop if you cannot finish," he said.

"I can do it," Shuri said, and she grimaced as she lowered herself atop him.

She sheathed herself fully, and he twitched again. Shuri's face twisted in a grimace.

"Is it too much?" he asked.

"A little," she said. He kissed her, then gently pushed her off.

Shuri looked at him, crestfallen. "I can do it."

"You tried your best."

"What about you?" she asked, and they both looked at his erection, which was swollen and covered in her fluids.

Before Richelieu could answer, she aimed his tip at her entrance. "You should touch yourself, Your Eminence."

"Onanism is a sin," he said.

"I thought spilling the seed was a sin, if it goes inside me, it's part of the marriage bed."

"You could be the devil leading me to temptation," he muttered, but his hand closed around his shaft. Shuri sighed, leaning over him.

She'd angled her body so that the head of his penis rubbed against her clitoris. It took a moment, but Richelieu understood why she was doing this. He kissed her, then rubbed himself on her nub until she was gasping and straining against him.

She gasped into his mouth, and he eased the head of himself just at her entrance, stroking himself. Her eyes half-lidded and her mouth slack, she dimly came aware of how he was touching himself - his fingers a tight circle around his glans, the furious up and down pumping motion, until he let out a groan and shoved up against her entrance, filling her with taut bursts of ropy semen.

He rested his head on her breast, catching his breath, as she leaned over him, her long hair falling over his shoulders as her knees dug into the mattress. She could feel him pulsing under her; semen dripped down the sides of her legs.

"Whoops," Shuri said, and she swung her leg over and pressed the creamy white seed into her entrance.

Richelieu covered his face in his hands, embarrassed. "That was most certainly a sin," he said.

"Then go to confession," Shuri said, and she lightly gave him a kiss. He frowned at her, but he also wore a peaceful expression.

"There is none among them worthy enough to hear my confession," he said.

She rested on her side, looking at him as he gingerly lay beside her, facing her direction. Carefully, she pulled the covers out from underneath them, she hooking her leg over his hip and wrapping her arm around him.

Chapter 36: Pull-ups!

She was still asleep when Richelieu woke up, so in the darkness of the early morning hours, Richelieu crept out of bed and went into a secluded corner in the courtyard.

She didn't like it when he whipped himself, but he needed to pay penance.

The soft night sounds permeated the air as Richelieu walked, the air cool and the grass still damp with dew. Quietly, he wrapped his waist with thick, heavy chains that he'd hooked to four heavy stone crosses, stood under the nearest tree branch, then jumped up.

He was in the middle of doing a set of pull-ups when Shuri walked behind him, a shawl wrapped around her nightgown as she rubbed her arms. Her eyes widened at the sight of him: Richelieu shirtless, his skin beaded with sweat, as he pulled himself up to chest-level on the thick branch, the stone crosses dangling off him. Each stone cross by itself would be difficult to be lifted by one man, but Richelieu had chained not one, but four of them to his waist; when he couldn't do anymore, he unhooked one cross, then did pull-ups again.

"You're not done yet?" Shuri said to him, impressed. To prolong the agony, he descended slowly, letting the weight fully pull him down, before exploding up again.

"No," he said, but his grip started to give out. He dropped down, then wrapped his hands in straps. When he jumped up again, he used the straps to hoist himself, the full heft of his weight now dependent on the muscles of his back.

"How many have you done?" she asked, sitting on a cross.

"Until it hurts. Until I can do no more, then I remove a cross."

"Is it okay if I watch?"

Richelieu glanced back at her, and was startled to see her eyes wide like marbles and her face in a comically impressed expression.

Muscles rippled as he did more pull-ups, full extension with a slow descent, with a fast, explosive contraction upwards. It took strength and control and an absolutely masochist mindset, and as soon as he felt his strength go out, he'd reduce the weight and go again.

The chains were off. All four crosses were on the ground, and he started doing bodyweight pull-ups, faster and more explosive this time. Hair dripped with sweat as he worked, until his arms were shaking and his back was shiny with sweat. He slipped his wrists out from the straps, then dropped down.

He started wrapping his waist in chains again. Shuri started.

"You're not tired, Your Eminence?"

"I shall mortify the front," he said, and draped more chains around his neck.

There were parallel bars that the knights used in their training. Richelieu used this now to do dips, the muscles in his arms contracting and lengthening as he pushed himself up and down. Shuri was familiar with this one - Jeremy once told her this worked the chest - but she'd never seen it done like this, with extra weight strapped onto his waist and around his neck. The crosses would drag against the ground, so Richelieu held them between his legs as he did the dips, always slow on the descent for maximum pain, before exploding upwards again.

The sky began to lighten. Richelieu turned, and all the muscles of his torso glistened. His hair was stringy and damp with sweat, and the dark circles under his eyes looked more tired.

"Your Eminence?"

"What is it?"

"I'd like to have sex again," Shuri said, stars in her eyes and pumping her fist. Richelieu stared at her.

"You are the reason I'm mortifying myself like this!"

"Aww."

He scowled. "Do not watch me next time. I'm communing with God, it's private."

"The knights have proper weights you can lift!" Shuri said. "I can speak with Alberon and get you access?"

He was about to open his mouth to protest - he wasn't doing this for vanity, it was a form of penance - but access to proper equipment, he could punish himself worse than the improvised chain-and-stone-cross set.

 

*****

 

"How much can he deadlift?"

"It's the same weight as three men, look at him!"

The knights gathered, keeping their distance. In the darkness, they watched as Richelieu loaded an absurd amount of weight on the bar, before pulling up from the ground in an explosive movement.

(Later, Jeremy casually loaded the bar, then felt the heaviness in his hand after he slipped his fingers around it. His eyes widened. "Holy shit," Jeremy said. The other knights nodded.)

 

 

Notes:

What Richelieu is doing is something called drop sets - you do as many reps as possible at a certain weight, and when you go to failure, you drop the weight and repeat the set. He's also lengthening the eccentric, or the slow stretch part of the movement, which increases something called "time under tension" and is what causes the most stimulus for muscle growth. Pull-ups are good for back; dips are good for chest. For people who lift, this is for people who want to seriously grow their lats and pecs; for Richelieu he's just doing it to be as painful as possible, not so much for the hypertrophic benefits. Richelieu is also using straps, which lifters can use if their grip strength is a limiting factor.

For the deadlift, I imagine Richelieu is doing I imagine Richelieu is doing 6 plates on each side (265 kg or 585 lbs), which would be impressive to the knights. Deadlifts work the muscles in the back of the legs. He'd also have to do barbell squats to be balanced.

Chapter 37: Pull-ups! part 2

"Will you train us, Your Eminence?!"

"What?" Richelieu said. The knights sparkled at him.

"We want to tra-- er, mortify ourselves in penance!" the knight corrected himself when another knight elbowed him. Richelieu's eyes narrowed.

"I am no longer a priest, I cannot take confession."

"We don't want to confess, we just want to punish ourselves, Your Eminence!"

"Why is everyone calling me 'Your Eminence'? I am not a cardinal. I am the former Marchioness's husband."

"Please?" the knights said. They followed him around. "Will you train us? Please?"

"He means torture, not train!" another knight corrected. Richelieu frowned at them.

 

*****

 

"Aggh!" the knight said. The knights were shirtless, doing squats by hoisting bags of manure in the crooks of their arms, the bags resting against their necks as they squatted, trying to keep their balance.

"I can't do anymore!" another knight cried. Richelieu pushed off one bag from the top.

"Again," Richelieu said. The knights groaned, then started squatting again.

 

 

Notes:

The knights are doing zercher squats, which is a strongman movement; it loads the weight at your elbows and tests your carrying capacity and balance. You can do it with a barbell or holding sandbags, or in the knights' cases, bags of manure XDD

Chapter 38: Knights! (Pull-ups, part 3)

"You should learn swordplay," Jeremy said. Richelieu gave him a sideways look, not bothering to turn his head to dignify his statement. Jeremy trotted after him. "It's shameful you're training the knights and you don't even know how to hold a sword."

"They asked for punishment. I am helping with their penance."

"Well I'm captain of the knights, I won't let you use the weightroom unless you train like one."

Richelieu stopped. Jeremy was glaring.

"This training. Is it difficult?" Richelieu asked. Jeremy lifted his palms.

"Your arms will burn and your hands will be full of calluses."

Richelieu regarded him a moment. "I have no interest in it," he said, and started walking away again. Jeremy screwed his face up.

"Can you protect Mother?! Or your daughter?!" Jeremy said.

Richelieu's mind snapped back to Shuri getting slaughtered in her carriage.

"If you are planning to use this so-called training to humiliate me," Richelieu said, stepping close to him and invading his space, "you will sorely regret testing me."

 

*****

 

He was swinging a wooden sword at a pole as Alberon and Jeremy watched him.

"He's bad," Alberon said.

"Yup," Jeremy said.

"It's okay, Your Eminence! You're just starting! You'll catch up to them!" the deacon said. He was a cardinal now, not a deacon. Richelieu grunted, irritated.

"Why are you here? Don't you have other duties to attend?"

"I'm having my minions do them!" the deacon said, sparkling. Jeremy and Alberon looked at him.

Chapter 39: Knights! part 2

Shuri started laughing, watching him.

"What?" Richelieu said, irritated. Shuri giggled and shook her head. "Woman, what is it. What?"

"Nothing," Shuri giggled. She swallowed, biting her laughter back.

"Your Eminence. You really do look like an 'Erwin.'"

"I'm glad I could provide you with some amusement," Richelieu drily said.

Chapter 40: Arm Wrestling

"Arm wrestle me!" Jeremy said, apropos of nothing. Richelieu stared at him as if he'd sprouted two heads.

He started walking again. Jeremy followed after him.

"Arm wrestle me, and I'll stop hassling you about Shuri. Arm wrestle me."

Richelieu sighed, then rubbed his head.

Jeremy sat down at the table, his arm flexed, looking at Richelieu with an expectant expression.

"This is idiotic," Richelieu said, and he clasped Jeremy's hand.

BANG! Richelieu slammed Jeremy's hand down with a force that could shatter glass. Jeremy's eyes widened.

"Let me try again," Jeremy said, and flexed his arm toward him. Richelieu sighed again.

BANG! He won again. Jeremy gawked. Richelieu stood up, ignoring him.

"See, this pisses me off," Jeremy said, jumping up. Richelieu's eyes slid toward him. "You haven't even apologized for the shit you did yet!"

"I save my contrition for God's judgement," Richelieu said. He turned away, walking from him.

"That's fucking bullshit," Jeremy said. Richelieu stopped again. Jeremy pointed. "Do you realize how much you tortured us? Tortured Shuri? And you won't even apologize for it? You're a fucking asshole, Your Eminence, and a fucking shitty husband."

Richelieu turned sharply. "You are not one to comment on the state of my marriage," Richelieu said.

"I know her longer than you did."

"Tch." Richelieu made an irritated sound, moving from him.

"Look, I like you, Your Eminence," Jeremy said, and Richelieu turned quickly. This was unexpected. Jeremy screwed his face up, his hands balling into fists. "You have a stick up your ass and you're fucking arrogant. But you make Shuri happy for some reason." Jeremy scowled at him. "And you didn't cast her out when she got pregnant."

"It takes two for that to happen, lest it be immaculate conception," Richelieu said drily. Jeremy glared at him.

"Yeah, but," Jeremy scratched his neck. "Most other guys would blame the woman. You didn't."

"Is there a point to this?" Richelieu said. Jeremy straightened.

"I guess what I'm saying is..." Jeremy hesitated.

"Goddammit!" Jeremy shouted. Richelieu arched an eyebrow at him. "I was fucking about to apologize to you! What the hell kind of fucking mind trick is this?!"

"Perhaps you felt the need to make amends."

Jeremy stopped. Richelieu was watching him, unmoving and impassive. "It must have been difficult," Richelieu said. "Trying to suppress those emotions."

"The fuck are you talking about, Your Eminence?"

"You were in love with her," Richelieu said. He gestured. "Only a blind fool would fail to see it."

Jeremy scowled at him.

"You needn't worry," Richelieu said. "It is evident to me that you've long ago let go of those feelings," and Jeremy raised his eyes at him.

Jeremy glared again. "You don't know what the fuck you're saying."

"I do indeed. I was in a similar position. But God saw fit to give me an excuse to act on them."

"She said you wanted to die, though," Jeremy said, and realization dawned on him.

Richelieu was a stern man. Pragmatic, almost devoid of any sort of moral compass. The devil would say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and Richelieu would agree and willingly travel down it.

And yet, he didn't abandon Shuri when she got pregnant. He didn't blame her for putting him in this position, even though he'd resisted.

"Fuck," Jeremy said. Richelieu raised an eyebrow at him. "I like you. Shit."

Richelieu made a scoffing sound. "Well that is an interesting admission."

"Shut the hell up, Your Eminence."

"You are the one who accosted me. Or are you too dimwitted to remember this?"

"Dammit."

Chapter 41: Nora, part 2

"What am I looking at?" Shuri said, coming up to Alberon, as a whole group of knights whooped and hollered, standing in a tight circle.

Richelieu was arm-wrestling Nora. Or rather, Nora was glaring, sweat dripping down his temples, while Richelieu stared at him with an intense look, as if he could cast him to hell by staring at him. Their arms didn't move.

"C'mon, Nora! Beat him!" a knight shouted. Another knight whooped.

"Your Eminence, God is behind you! You can do it!"

"I didn't know he was religious," Alberon said.

Slowly, Nora's hand started wrenching backwards. Another shaky millimeter, and then another. Nora screwed his face up, his bicep tightening, and pushed back, Richelieu's arm shaking as Nora pushed up, then pushed Richelieu's arm slightly back.

"C'mon Nora!" Rachel called (the children gathered around too). Elias shouted.

"Don't let that stupid priest beat you!"

"Mama!" Rachel said, seeing her. Richelieu's eyes slid back and saw Shuri watching.

BAM! Nora slammed Richelieu's arm down. He beamed, triumphant, but then saw Richelieu's disinterest. Nora's smile slipped a notch. Richelieu sniffed and frowned, rubbing his arm.

"That was idiotic. My wife is here. I'm leaving."

"Booo!" the knights called. Nora glared at him, flushing furiously.

"Nora," Shuri said, trotting toward him. "It's been a long time, what brings you here?"

"Oh." Nora fidgeted, then glanced at Jeremy. "I was just visiting."

"I miss you," Shuri said. Richelieu cleared his throat behind her.

"You were waiting?" he asked, and Shuri turned.

"Oh!" She grabbed her skirts, trotting toward him. "I wanted to show you, the baby's scooting."

"Really?" Richelieu said, and Shuri linked her arm around his.

"Yes, Gwen has her now, but I wanted to show you. Hurry up and come with me."

In the foreground, Nora watched as they talked. A slight pang settled on his chest as he saw Shuri walk with Richelieu, arm-in-arm.

"It sucks," Jeremy said, coming up behind him. Nora nodded.

"Yeah," Nora said, and the words stuck in his throat like old dry bread.

"At the very least, she's happy with him."

"Yeah," Nora said again. In the distance, Shuri laughed. She sparkled as she looked up at him, talking to him.

"Hey," Jeremy said. "Did you really win?" They both watched Richelieu and Shuri walking off in the distance.

Nora made a wry smile. "When we competed in the tournament, did you really win?"

They both remembered their fight in the rain, how they both were fighting in earnest in front of Shuri, who was watching them.

"Huh," Jeremy said. Nora shrugged and turned away from them.

Chapter 42: Drinks

"I beg your pardon?" Richelieu said.

Jeremy crossed his arms and glared. "A drink," he repeated. He furrowed his brow at the floor. "I was asking if you wanted to get a drink."

Richelieu stared at him. "Why the devil would you ask me to join you for a drink?" Jeremy reared up, indignant.

"Because Nora suggested I ask you, okay? He said we should get along for Mother's sake."

The cold arrogant stare was replaced by one of confusion. "You endeavor to get in my good graces?"

"You know what, nevermind. Forget I even asked."

"Fine," Richelieu said, and Jeremy turned to look at him. Richelieu's frown deepened. "I shall join you for your drink."

 

*****

 

The tavern was on the outskirts of the village, one that was frequented by mostly commoners and the occasional knight on business. Jeremy and Nora were already sitting at the table, a bottle half full in front of them, when Richelieu walked in to join them.

"You have already started," Richelieu said, noting the half-drunk bottle and the two glasses. Jeremy scowled.

"We figured we should be slightly buzzed to do this."

Richelieu arched an eyebrow and sat down.

"Hello~~" Theobald fluttered in, then sparkled. Jeremy sputtered.

"What the fuck? What's he doing here? Who invited him?"

"Oh, I heard from my old teacher, and of course I insisted." Theobald sat down with a flourish.

Richelieu sighed. "Your Highness. You shouldn't have come here. You're unguarded."

"I have the two strongest swordsmen in the capital here! And my escorts are outside this tavern." Theobald leaned forward. "What are we drinking? Is this wine?"

"Ale," Nora said. Jeremy nodded.

"Strong ale."

Theobald motioned to the waitress. "Another glass. And one for him as well," he said, motioning to Richelieu. Jeremy leaned toward Nora.

"The hell are we doing this again?" Jeremy said under his breath.

"Because we're both masochists," Nora said.

"You want to know who's really a masochist?" Theobald chimed in.

"Two more glasses and another bottle of ale," the waitress said, interrupting them.

She set down the bottle. Theobald moved to cheerfully pour their glasses while Jeremy groaned and Nora shook his head at him. Richelieu watched, his eyes narrowed, looking as if he'd sniffed something vaguely unpleasant.

"One for you~~, one for you~~, and one for you~~," Theobald said, pushing the glasses. "And three fingers for me, because I can out-drink all of you."

 

*****

 

Bourbon. Vodka. Whiskey. Ale. Nora felt vaguely nauseous. Jeremy felt lightheaded. Theobald was laughing heartily while Richelieu was face-down on the table.

"He doesn't really drink that much, His Eminence," Theobald said, clapping him on the back.

His voice issued from the table. "I refuse to partake in such petty indulgences."

Theobald raised his hand. "A glass of water for His Eminence," Theobald said. Jeremy's eyes were glassy and red.

"I'm gonna barf," Jeremy said.

"Oh, come now. I thought we were all men," Theobald said.

Richelieu made no attempt to lift his head. "You fancy yourself men, but you are all still mere children."

"Funny you should say that, when you cannot even handle your liquor, Your Eminence," Nora said, and took a sip. Theobald cackled. Jeremy made a burping noise and attempted to hide it with his fist. Richelieu made a snort of derision.

"By that logic, His Highness is the manliest of men," Richelieu said.

"Thank you!" Theobald said, sparkling at him. Richelieu looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Your Highness. That was sarcasm."

"I choose to take it as a compliment!" Theobald said, and he poured another two fingers of bourbon, then tossed back his glass again.

Chapter 43: Drinks, part 2

"Is it true you threw stones at her?" Theobald said amiably to Jeremy.

"What?" Nora said. Jeremy shifted.

"It was a long time ago, we were just kids."

"You threw rocks at her and jeered at her, when it was your selfish father you should have punished," Richelieu said.

"She told you that?!" Jeremy said, aghast.

"I like it when we drink!" Theobald beamed at them.

"How could you be so cruel to her?" Nora said to Jeremy. Richelieu nodded.

"I concur."

"Wha- the hell is this? I'm the one who invited you!"

"Don't forget that His Eminence also wanted Shuri to go on trial for incest," Theobald helpfully reminded them. "I'd wanted to swoop in and save her, tell everyone that she and I were in a relationship. She would have been so grateful to me, I wager had that happened, we would have married and she would soon be pregnant."

"Can we hit him?" Jeremy said to Nora. Nora's eyes narrowed as he looked at Theobald.

"We can't. He's the Crown Prince."

"Ah yes! It was your fault Shuri was taken to trial! I'd forgotten how violent you are. You nearly beat me into a coma. But I've already forgiven it," Theobald said, his drunkenness manifesting as cheerful provocation. Jeremy glared at them.

"Weren't you the one who told me where to find them?" he said to Richelieu.

"I was not the one unable to control his violent impulses."

"I'll control your violent impulses," Jeremy muttered, and picked up his glass again.

 

*****

 

More bottles piled up in the center.

"Is he okay?" Nora said, looking at Jeremy, who hadn't moved since he'd put down his head in his arms, slumping over the table. Richelieu frowned at him.

"It seems young Jeremy is unconscious," Richelieu said, lifting Jeremy's arm away from his head. Nora frowned. Theobald stood up, beaming at them.

"Well, this was great fun! I would offer my knights to help carry him, but as they say, we're at the outskirts of the village, and I am the Crown Prince. I need all of them to escort me, so--"

"Yes, we get it," Nora said.

Theobald fluttered out, hearts and stars flying off of him as he left them.

 

*****

 

Nora grunted, hefting Jeremy's arm over his shoulder. Richelieu had Jeremy's other arm, but Nora struggled - Richelieu was taller than him, and so Jeremy's body listed sideways, making it difficult for Nora to keep his balance.

Richelieu sighed, irritated. "Let go. Let me hoist him."

"He is heavy, Your Eminence," Nora said, frowning. Richelieu shook his head.

"You are making it more difficult for me to bear his weight. Let me carry him."

Nora frowned, then nodded, stepping back, while Richelieu hoisted Jeremy across his back.

They walked in silence. Nighttime in the capital was quiet; there was only the sound of their footsteps and the occasional sound of an errant carriage. Nora glanced at Richelieu, and was struck by the image beside him: Jeremy passed out and slung over Richelieu's back, his cheek pressed into Richelieu's shoulders and his limp arms draped over his neck, as Richelieu hoisted Jeremy's weight, carrying Jeremy by his legs. It looked like Richelieu was wearing a Jeremy-sized backpack, but what was more surprising was that Richelieu didn't seem at all to struggle with it.

"He isn't heavy for you?" Nora asked.

"He is more unwieldy than heavy. You could carry him if you had to."

"So let me have a turn then," Nora said. "It isn't fair that you have to carry him."

"He and I are going back to the same manor, it wouldn't make sense," Richelieu said.

Nora fell silent. Above them, the clouds parted, and the coin of moon illuminated the darkness.

"I don't like what you've done to Lady Shu," Nora said, and was surprised by how loud his voice sounded in the quiet. There was no change in Richelieu's expression as he walked forward.

"You are right to feel the way you do."

Nora looked at him, shocked. He'd expected Richelieu to defend himself, or at the very least, try to justify his actions. But Richelieu did nothing of the sort, just kept holding Jeremy against his back, moving forward.

"Your father. Does he beat you?" Richelieu said. Nora stopped.

"What the hell kind of question is that?"

"One of genuine concern."

Nora scoffed, glaring at the cobblestones in front of him.

"You know," Richelieu said, in a conversational tone. "It would be wiser to just go along with him. He will die soon, and you will be your own man."

"What do you know about it?" Nora said. Richelieu nodded.

"You could say I've been through something similar with His Holiness."

Nora furrowed his brow at him. Richelieu continued. "I worked to cultivate the image of the dutiful servant," he said. "Your 'Lady Shu' was a weak widow made head of a vast fortune. Naturally, she became the Church's target."

"Are you trying to excuse what you did?"

"Not at all. I was just explaining that you and I were in a similar position." Richelieu kept staring straight ahead. "You can rail against your father and call him a tyrant. But it is easier and far more efficient to get him to lay his trust in you, so that you could cut him at the knees with one hand whilst presenting the olive branch with the second."

"Maybe I'd rather be honest instead of manipulative," Nora said.

"There is some dignity in that," Richelieu said. "But God has laid for you more tools within your arsenal, should you choose to use them."

They came to a crossroads and had to head in different directions. "I should come with you," Nora said, looking at Jeremy's slumped form. "Just in case you need help, Your Eminence."

"It is not your burden," Richelieu said, and Nora lifted his eyes at him. "I bid you goodnight, then," Richelieu said.

"Yeah," Nora said. "Goodnight, Your Eminence."

Richelieu nodded at him, then turned, hoisting Jeremy up as he walked away from him.

Chapter 44: Eyes Wide Open, part 3

Notes:

Rape mention

The day Shuri took the antidote to the poison, she stared at the vial on the desk, feeling torn and discomfited.

On the one hand, she loved him - the relief she'd felt after Richelieu told her he still loved her was so strong she'd wept. Maybe she was just emotional because she was pregnant, but after he'd held her and she'd calmed herself, and after he disappeared to God-knows-where while she was left alone in the manor, she had time to think logically about her actions.

This is bad. This is very bad. Shuri paced, hugging herself. This was a man who had tried to hurt her in the past, regardless of how he felt about her. "I've always loved you," he'd said, but if you loved someone, why would you hurt them like that?

She needed a sound opinion. Hitching her shawl, she stepped into a carriage and sent word to the Empress.

 

******

 

"What are you on about? Of course you take the antidote to the poison!" Elisabeth said.

Shuri's eyes, which were normally so bright, were dull. Elisabeth motioned for the servants to get more tea while Duchess Nuremberg fingered her cup, nervously. This get-together had been planned well in advance - she was the Empress, of course she couldn't just drop her schedule at a moment's notice! - and Shuri was thankful for that.

"I'm afraid I'm being manipulated," Shuri said. "I love him, I truly do. But what if it's the effects of the poison?"

"Then you should take it. Your stepson did right by you for getting it."

"Can we not shut down that apothecary? It seems so dangerous," Duchess Nuremberg said. Elisabeth's mouth was a bitter curl.

"We tried. But there is nothing against Imperial Law selling Sex Pollen, particularly if one told the apothecary that it would be used for animal husbandry and not poisoning." Elisabeth turned to Shuri, who sat miserably in front of them.

"My dear girl," Elisabeth said. "Take the antidote. You love him now; at the very least, you will be in this marriage with your eyes open."

Shuri nodded. "He's a good man," she murmured. Elisabeth snorted.

"'Good man'? He is a snake in a pit of vipers! Surely he's using your addled state to his advantage!"

"He said he'd marry me. He didn't blame me for getting pregnant." She hugged her arms over her abdomen. "Any other man would say it was my fault for forcing him."

"You can't force them," Elisabeth sniffed. "Not to be vulgar, but you're the woman. You stab someone with a sword, you cannot kill someone by merely gumming at them."

"I don't think that's true," Duchess Nuremberg started, but Elisabeth shot her a look. Duchess Nuremberg demurred.

"He gave up the Church for me," Shuri said. "He was willing to die that night, but I was frightened. And we...." her hands around her arms tightened.

"What am I to do?" Shuri cried, tears welling up in her eyes. "It makes me happy just to be with him. But I know, I know, it's wrong, even though every fiber in my body is just so relieved to be next to him."

"Take the antidote," Elisabeth said. She clasped Shuri's hands. "This is why we don't lead with our hearts, dear girl, but our heads."

She walked back to the manor in silence. At the Empress's urging, she sought counsel and her solicitor drew up a marriage contract. "Be as ruthless as possible," she told him, repeating the Empress's words lest she forget. She clutched the papers in her purse, hugging her bag.

He would get no wealth or any benefits. If she were to die during childbirth, he would forfeit any claim to marital inheritance. Their baby would be a Neuschwanstein, but Richelieu would cede all claim to it. Upon divorce or dissolution of their marriage, the above conditions would be the same. No wealth. No benefits. Forfeiture of parental involvement.

But if he were to agree to annul this marriage, she would give him a sizeable fortune along with a monthly stipend. She understood that he was a priest and had no other means to provide for himself - they'd made vows of poverty and humility, he would be destitute if he left her family. He would agree not to contact her or the baby. But most importantly, he would refrain from contacting anyone in the Church. Any breach of this, and all those benefits of annulment would be forfeit.

Shuri hitched up her shawl. Richelieu wasn't stupid. The annulment would benefit him. She could even change the clause about contacting their child if he wanted - she remembered how he'd rest his palm flat across her abdomen with quiet reverence, because she was having his child and God had granted him this. She suddenly felt nauseous.

"Gwen. I need something to soothe my stomach," Shuri said.

"Yes," Gwen said, and she prepared a ginger tea, adding a bit of honey and lemon. "Is it morning sickness, my lady?"

"I think so, yes." Shuri sipped her cup. "I'm also nervous."

"Why on earth are you nervous?"

"Because I was up all night thinking I'd be abandoned by my husband, and at the cold light of day, I realized how dangerous it is to be so attached to him."

Gwen's mouth thinned. "Begging your pardon, my lady, but it's good to love each other in a marriage," she said.

"I thought you didn't like him."

"I didn't, at first. But he dotes on you, my lady. You should see his eyes light up when he sees you."

"I don't want to hear about it," Shuri said, hugging herself again. Gwen bowed.

"Forgive me, my lady. I overstepped."

 

*****

 

The conversation went as expected.

She wanted to weep when he signed the papers, cold and indignant. Had she imagined it? Was the warmth he'd displayed before all just an act? She supposed he'd have to be good at pretending, given how long he'd worked to get under the Pope's good graces. Betrayal was just another means to an end.

It was nighttime now, and the fire had died out. Shuri stood by the window and looked out into the darkness, at the circle of moon floating above them. She'd looked at the stars with Richelieu once. Resting her head on his shoulder, she had felt safe and warm as he pointed out the stars to her. "How do you know all this?" she'd asked. He shrugged a shoulder.

"I had read about it."

Shuri's eyes grew dim as she remembered their conversation.

There was a dark shape striding across the courtyard. Shuri leaned forward, squinting her eyes to make out the figure below her. It was her husband. Shuri's heart leapt when she saw him.

She grabbed her cloak, then rushed out, keeping her distance. His strides were purposeful and urgent. She saw him turn and realized he was heading towards the Church.

Is he going to report me then? Give new orders to his minions? Shuri's hand tightened.

The doors were unlocked, the corridors unmanned and unwatched. Unlike the front, the back halls to the rectory were austere and grim. Shuri craned her neck, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

And then she heard it: the harsh crack of a whip.

When she found him, he was crouched over the floor, his fist in his eyes and his face wrenched in a grimace. He wept. And Shuri's heart stilled. She still loved him.

 

*****

 

It was late at night when she heard a commotion. "What happened?" Shuri said, following the servants, then stopped when she saw Richelieu dropping Jeremy on top of his bed.

"Jeremy?!" Shuri rushed toward him. Richelieu sniffed.

"I see you have no word of thanks for your husband."

"Wha- why is he unconscious?!"

"The fool drank himself into a stupor. Young Nora and I had to carry him."

"I knew something bad would happen, I knew it," Shuri said, as Gwen stepped around her and handed them a basin.

"The male servants will help dress him," Gwen said. Shuri nodded.

"Thank you, Gwen," Shuri said. Richelieu snorted.

"Again. Did you give thanks to your husband?"

She rested her head against Richelieu's back. "I'll have to thank Nora later for carrying him."

(She rewarded him later with cuddles and kisses, but teasingly refused to actually thank him.)

Chapter 45: Eyes Wide Open, part 4

"He carried him the entire way," Nora said. "I just walked with them."

Sputtered cries of, "Really?" followed by an even more astonished, "Seriously?" were soon replaced by an unvarnished awe at the strength of her husband.

"Let me feel your muscles!" Shuri said. Richelieu jumped, startled.

"What now?" he said. Shuri beamed and made grabby hands toward him.

 

 

Chapter 46: Romance Novels, part 2 (explicit)

Notes:

Cunnilingus

"We have been intimate for quite some time now, and it has only occurred to me that kissing certain body parts shouldn't be off-limits, provided there is no outside spilling of my seed."

"Oh?" Shuri said, raising an eyebrow. Richelieu scowled, his face reddening.

"I have been perusing your books," he said. "Those 'romance novels' you showed me."

Shuri waited. Richelieu's glare hardened.

"Therefore," his face pinched. "Therefore, I think it appropriate to attempt a proper gamahuching. Provided you are amenable to it."

"Gama- gama what now, Your Eminence?"

"Gamahuching. Gamahuche. To lave your sex in a way that would lead you to orgasm." His face was redder but he was scowling even harder.

Shuri coughed. "Come again?"

"I wish to perform cunnilingus."

Shuri practically fell off the bed.

"Of course, if you find the practice too lascivious--"

"N-no! No, of course not, I've always been curious," Shuri said. Richelieu scowled again.

"I just thought it unfair," Richelieu said, glaring at the mattress. "You've kissed me in private places, I should return the favor."

"Uh." Shuri blushed and rubbed her neck. "Should I take off my bloomers, Your Eminence?"

"I would imagine that would be the most appropriate step."

Shuri raised her eyebrows at him.

 

*****

 

She shrieked, thrashed, then clutched Richelieu's head, her fingers digging hard into his scalp as he licked and sucked her clitoris.

Her orgasm slammed into her like a weighted bag of bricks, and she spasmed, hard and helpless. Richelieu raised his eyes, his mouth still latched onto her, as she let out a sobbing moan, her body twitching and jerking above him. He waited until her contractions died down, and her torso spasmed with a few errant jerks, before he delicately lifted his head and wiped his thumb across the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, wow," Shuri said. Her breasts were heaving and her skin was damp with sweat. She beamed up dreamily at him.

"I take it you are satisfied with my actions?"

"Oh, yes," Shuri said, and she laughed, delirious. He smiled, then fitted himself inside her.

Chapter 47: Brothers

His brother was coming to visit them. “You have a brother?” Shuri said.

Richelieu grimaced, rubbing his temples, then scowled, shaking his head.

“I have four brothers and three sisters. They had all joined the church save for the eldest, Erich von Dreger.”

“Erich?” Shuri said. Richelieu nodded.

“Erich, Emma, Edward, Elisabeth, Ethan, Ethyl, Enrich, and myself, Erwin.”

“Good lord,” Shuri said. “Your parents really liked the letter E, Your Eminence.”

“Hmm.”

“And they all joined the church, then?” she asked. Richelieu nodded.

“My brothers became priests or friars, whereas my sisters became nuns. Our family couldn't afford a dowry for arranged marriages.”

“Woof,” Shuri said. Richelieu frowned at her, offended.

His oldest brother was visiting them. Richelieu wasn't the one who contacted him - Shuri had assumed relations were strained between them, as they had been between Shuri and her own family of origin - but Jeremy had taken it upon himself to write him.

"Why the devil would you write him?" Richelieu said to Jeremy, irritated. Jeremy bristled.

"Because when you married Mother, your family became our family, I have a responsibility as the family head."

"I don't like this," Shuri said, bouncing the baby on her shoulder as she frowned at him. Her baby made a little cooing noise as Shuri patted the baby's back. "We don't know how it is between those two. He was forced into the church because his family couldn't afford to raise them."

"Well isn't it better if we get to know them?" Jeremy said. The baby bopped her little face against Shuri's chest, gumming Shuri's shoulder.

 

*****

 

Richelieu was nervous. One normally wouldn't be able to tell - to an outsider, he looked just as calm and stoically serious - but Shuri could see the slight clenching and unclenching of his jaw as he stood by the window, watching the horse and carriage below them pulling up to the courtyard.

"Are you okay?" Shuri asked. She touched the small of Richelieu's back. He sighed, shaking his head.

"I am fine. Merely vexed," he said, and Shuri took his hand.

 

*****

 

"Thank you for inviting me!" Erich von Dreger said, stepping out of the carriage. Jeremy smiled and shook his hand.

Lord Dreger was the complete opposite of his little brother; he was jolly and fat, twenty years older than Richelieu, the rosy round cheeks of his face covered with graying sideburns. He thanked the coachman with an earnest sincerity that left Shuri impressed - if Shuri hadn't known better, she would have guessed Lord Dreger were a clergyman instead of his little brother.

"Erwin!" Lord Dreger said. Richelieu gave him a sour look.

"Erich," Richelieu said, and Lord Dreger bear-hugged him. Richelieu looked like a startled cat getting ready to scratch, when Lord Dreger pulled back, appraising him.

"You've gotten big!" Lord Dreger said. Richelieu furrowed his brow, unsure if his older brother was insulting him.

"You must be Lady Neuschwanstein!" Lord Dreger said, holding his arms out to Shuri. Shuri beamed at him.

"Hello, Lord Dreger."

"And is this the baby? Oh my goodness, what a squirmy little thing is she!" He picked up the baby, Richelieu scowling behind him. "Oh my. She's pretty like her mommy, isn't she?"

"Please don't shake the baby," Richelieu said, taking the baby from him. His brother laughed, his round belly shaking.

"Oh, don't look like that, Erwin! Thank you Lord Jeremy," Lord Dreger said, bowing to Jeremy. "If you hadn't written, I never would have known my constipated little brother left the cloth, let alone wed."

Richelieu glared daggers at his brother's head.

 

*****

 

"He seems perfectly nice, why don't you like him?" Shuri said to Richelieu. This wasn't a criticism - she knew how charming her own brother had been.

Richelieu was holding the baby. He held the baby up by the armpits, glaring at her. "My brother is an idiot," Richelieu said. Shuri blinked.

"Okay...?"

"He was ill-suited to become family head."

"So you should have become family head instead?"

"Of course not. I was the youngest. But my brother's stupidity masqueraded as kindness, and he was taken advantage of by all sorts of unscrupulous men."

"Huh," Shuri said. Richelieu bounced the baby against his chest, then set her against his shoulder, patting her back.

 

*****

 

"....And then, the boy cut up all sorts of animals dissecting them! I was positively convinced we had a serial killer in our midst!" Lord Dreger was saying. He was sitting in the parlor room surrounded by Shuri's children. "Oh," Lord Dreger said, seeing them. "I was just telling them how you used to torture small animals as a child, Erwin."

"It wasn't torture, it was vivisection," Richelieu said, his face pinched. Lord Dreger's own face lit up in a laugh.

"Oh come now, Erwin. The neighbors were hiding their puppies for fear you would dissect them."

"Can we not talk about this?" Richelieu said. Elias protested.

"No I wanna hear it!"

"Me too!" Rachel added.

"I've been interested in vivisections," Leon said, solemn.

His brother was a menace. Richelieu stalked around the manor, then ran into his brother filling his wife's head with nonsense:

"He never had any friends, only followers," his brother was saying, as Shuri listened with rapt attention. "He was a solitary child. We all were very worried for him."

Richelieu cleared his throat. Lord Dreger and Shuri looked up at him.

 

*****

 

"He's nice," Shuri said. They were lying in bed, speaking quietly in the darkness. Richelieu scowled at the ceiling.

"He was impugning my character. You can understand why that is irritating to me."

"He wasn't," Shuri said, cuddling him. She kissed his cheek, then snuggled against him. "He was just telling me what you were like when you were a little kid."

"I was unchanged," Richelieu said. Shuri laughed, hugging him.

"Yes I see that, Your Eminence. Your brother's stories attest to that."

Richelieu glared, but found it difficult to keep glaring when his wife was cuddling him and smothering his cheek with kisses. He frowned, relaxing a bit.

"I suppose my brother has been lonely," Richelieu said, after a long moment. Shuri shifted, listening. "After his wife died giving birth, he'd never remarried."

"He was telling me," Shuri said, nodding. "He said he dearly loved his wife and I was lucky I was so healthy."

They fell silent a moment.

"He was asking to adopt one of our children," Richelieu said, after a long moment. He scowled in the darkness. "As if I'd let him take them."

"He said that?" Shuri said. Richelieu nodded.

"He has no heirs. I told him he could just have it in his will and leave them an inheritance, but he insists one of them should go to the Dreger estate and learn to be head."

Shuri was quiet a moment. "Why not make you family head?" she asked. Richelieu considered this.

"I imagine it would cause discord amongst my brothers, were they to find out this," he said.

Notes:

Reread the Richelieu backstory chapters and realized he only had four other siblings, not seven. I'm just gonna chalk this up to be an AU instead of fixing it 😅

Chapter 48: Brothers, part 2

"Erwin was a creepy little kid!" Lord Dreger said.

Shuri squealed, delighted. Lord Dreger grinned, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"He'd stare at you with the most bored expression. You could throw a pillow at his head and he'd just sigh, irritated. When the other children were playing, little Erwin would be standing at the courtyard, watching. Not because he was shy, mind you, but more like he felt like his time was being wasted when he could be doing something more useful, like studying."

Shuri giggled. She could see that - His Eminence had a haughty air to him, always looking down at his enemies, aloof and arrogant.

"Did he ever laugh?" Shuri asked. Lord Dreger grinned and shook his head.

"Never!" Lord Dreger said.

"I heard when he was younger, he was an atheist."

"Oh, he could make a priest question God's existence. It would drive Mother into fits."

Shuri giggled again.

"Why are you laughing?" Richelieu said, irritated, when Shuri regaled him with all the tales Erich had imparted. Richelieu scowled. "It is not my fault I was surrounded by idiots."

"I think it's adorable," Shuri said. She snaked her hand around Richelieu's waist, hugging him.

"You know what else he told me?" Shuri said. Richelieu glared.

"No. What is it?"

Shuri grinned and bit her lip. "He told me you were most certainly a virgin."

Richelieu scoffed, exasperated. Shuri hugged him."No, Your Eminence! I'd asked if you ever had any childhood romances, and he said you were either goading your followers or torturing small animals, and he said you were a chaste and pious young man."

Richelieu grumbled. "I thought that much was evident."

"It was - but it's nice to have it confirmed, Your Eminence."

"How could it not be confirmed? I took a vow of chastity. That the other cardinals are rolling in sin should not also reflect on me."

 

 

Chapter 49: Erich von Dreger (tw: animal abuse)

Notes:

Originally posted in the fic, Subordinate. Warnings for animal abuse. New content at the bottom. Original character.

The Lord of Dreger Manor never remarried. After his wife died giving birth to their child, he spent the rest of his days holed up in his manor, doing good works and good deeds and becoming beloved among the village.

In point of fact: Erich von Dreger was better suited for the clergy moreso than Erwin was, his dour-faced little brother who never smiled and stared unblinkingly at the others, who gave the others a fright with his severe looks and rigid fanaticism.

"I worry about him," Erich had said to his wife, when she was alive. Erwin was still a child then, but had nearly died after getting swept up in a storm. They watched as the boy prayed fervently the rosary by the light of the window.

"He is more fervent ever since the accident!" their mother said. Their father laughed, pleased. Erich itched uncomfortably.

 

*****

 

Only Erich came to their parents' funerals.

The other Dreger siblings were scattered to the winds - his two sisters, to the nunneries. His four brothers, to different parishes. They had renounced their names and gave up worldly possessions, as was their calling, and Erich had no way to contact them.

"I will continue the Dreger name," Erich said to his wife, "but if our children wish to be carpenters or teachers, we shall let them." Somehow, his mind snapped to Erwin, how his youngest brother secretly didn't believe in God but would join the clergy anyway, and how, instead of being horrified that he'd almost died, his mother was happy he'd discovered his faith.

"He killed a kitten today. Wanted to see its insides for his studies - but he held the most wonderful prayer for him," their mother said. Erich shuddered as their mother's face lit up from within. "He thanked the kitten for his sacrifice, and swore his soul would go to heaven!"

"Animals do not have souls, Mother, even Erwin knows that."

"Even a lost, damaged thing can still be extended grace."

Erich shuddered.

 

*****

 

Vivisections were nothing more than an excuse to torture small animals, but Erich wasn't learned nor was he curious, and the scholars in the village tutted him, stating loudly that autopsies were all the rage and so long as the animal wasn't needlessly tortured, it was all for man's understanding and well within Gods' grace.

"Does he not bother you?" he asked the second eldest, a round-faced man who became a vicar at a local parish. His brother spread his hands.

"Erwin has always been precocious. His faith is strong and he himself is quite devoted. I think you are worrying over nothing," his brother said.

 

*****

 

Erwin was a loner who amassed no friends, but followers. Bubbleheaded boys who fancied themselves philosphers, happy to argue religion and bask in each others' smug, superior looks. After his accident, Erwin rejected them. "Why should I spend my time in the company of idiots?" he'd asked, and he holed up in his study, as severe and focused as ever.

He entered the seminary. As was custom, after he'd renounced the Dreger name, Erich never heard from him. His mother cried and hugged Erwin's thin arms while the boy stood silent and impassive, their mother's greasy tears dripping onto Erwin's shoulders.

"Be good, my Erwin. May the glory of His name be always with you."

"And also with you," Erwin intoned, as their mother cried and hugged him.

 

*****

 

He heard about Erwin's - no, Richelieu's - accomplishments years later.

The youngest to become bishop. The youngest to become cardinal. Erich went to the Christmastide festival in the capital out of a strange sense of curiosity and nostalgia, and was surprised to see his youngest brother overseeing it all like a specter. Amid the throngs of laughing, cheerful people, Erwin's figure was dark and black, dark bruises under his eyes and his face a perfect mask. He looked like a reaper standing in silent judgment of them all, a man whose faith was a weapon to be wielded, who would smite all nonbelievers for the glory of His name.

Erich met Erwin's eyes, and shuddered.

"They say the Church is corrupt," a young deacon said, a blond-haired young man who looked up at Erwin with total devotion. "But Cardinal Richelieu promised us he would dig it out, root and stem, and restore the glory of His name for us."

"What is his plan?" Erich asked. The deacon grinned.

"Why, to take over as head of the Church and become Pope!"

Erich's head snapped up again. Erwin stood atop the highest balcony, a stark black figure among the throng of Christmastide followers, and shuddered.

 

*****

 

He was surprised to get the letter a year later.

"Thank you for having me," Erich said, as Jeremy bowed in front of him.

"The honor is mine. Thank you for coming," Jeremy said. Erich looked behind Jeremy and could see all the Neuschwanstein children; bright and sunny, they looked fresh like cut flowers from the garden. Erich could tell they were a close-knit family, that Lady Neuschwanstein had been an excellent mother.

And then there was Erwin. Dark and pinched, he stood in the corner while Shuri and the children interacted. They sparkled in front of him. Erich cast a glance at his brother, who was watching with a dour expression.

"I am glad for you," Erich said to Erwin, when they were alone in the room. Erwin scowled at him. "This was no insult," Erich said, raising his hands. "I'd long told my wife if I were to have children, I'd let them be whoever they wanted. I'm glad you were able to take a different path."

Erwin was quiet. "I'm sure you've heard about the Sex Pollen."

"Of course I have. My friends in the capital told me what happened."

Erich smiled kindly at his little brother. He clapped him on the back.

"Let me know if you change your mind about having your daughter adopted."

"Do not ask me again," Erwin snapped. Erich laughed heartily at him.

 

 

Notes:

The original fic, Subordinate, was Dead Dove dark fic where Richelieu kidnaps Shuri and forcibly marries her. In that fic, I'd introduced the original character of his brother Erich, whom I wrote as a jolly older man who eventually gets murdered. I still liked his character and wanted to include a version of him that isn't killed off by Richelieu, so I decided to add him here XDD

Chapter 50: Mentor

Nora was storming out of the Nuremberg residence when he ran into Richelieu's older brother.

"Whoa," Lord Dreger said, as Nora swiped an angry hand across his eyes, then tried to fix his face into a more neutral expression. Nora's friends had just abandoned him - his grandfather had met them in the street, then berated them for daring think they could give him an adequate Christmas present. What followed was a horrible fight with one of his best friends, telling him they were from two different worlds, and that they no longer wished to be associated with him.

"Are you all right?" Lord Dreger kindly said.

 

*****

 

"He's mentoring Nora?" Jeremy said, as he and Shuri watched them. Shuri nodded.

"There will be difficulties because the Dregers are not a prominent family," Shuri said. "But Nora has already made the decision. He and Duke Nuremberg both need time and distance."

They left. Shuri watched as Nora pulled down his cap, stepping into the carriage with Richelieu's older brother.

("Leave it to him to stick his nose into another family's business," Richelieu sniffed. Shuri shook her head at him.)

Chapter 51: Braids

Sometimes, before they slept, Shuri liked to stroke Richelieu's head. It was a soothing, maternal movement, and Richelieu grew quite accustomed to it.

He was about to fall asleep against Shuri's chest when her fingers tugged slightly at the hair at his head.

"What are you doing?" he said, frowning in the darkness. He felt the slight tugging of his scalp as Shuri pulled at his hair, sharper than she normally would if she were merely combing her fingers through it.

"Oh, nothing," Shuri said, and Richelieu furrowed his brow, reaching up from beneath the covers to tentatively touch his head.

"Is that a braid?" he said.

"Um," Shuri licked her lips. "Yes?"

Where he had come from, other men feared him. Lower priests looked sharp and nervous bishops avoided him. Look ye how the proud hath fallen. "Why are you braiding my head?" he said.

"Your hair is long and soft. Sorry, I couldn't help it," Shuri said.

Ridiculous. Richelieu would admonish her not to be so foolish, but her body was warm and he was quite comfortable resting against her. He sank back into her shoulder again.

"You are lucky I am feeling indulgent."

"I'll undo them later, I promise."

 

*****

 

She forgot to undo them.

"Uh, they're French braids," Shuri said, stifling back a laugh as Richelieu looked at the rows of braids crisscrossing his head. He pulled them out with his fingers, then widened his eyes at the crimped curls that fell over his face like a woman's. "Sorry," Shuri said again. "I fell asleep before I could undo them."

Richelieu sighed and went to wet his head.

Chapter 52: Wedding Night (explicit)

Notes:

flashback chapter, PIV sex

After Pope Eugene married them in his office, the carriage ride was quiet. Shuri sat with her hands folded in her lap, wondering if she'd made the right decision. Across from her, Richelieu looked pensive. In their haste, he still was dressed in his cassock - he had no other belongings, and the few meager positions he had fit in a small knapsack. A few books, a tattered bible, a cross - he'd packed these things silently, Shuri standing behind him, watching.

"Prepare a chamber," Shuri said, as Roberto stepped out to greet them. Roberto blinked. Shuri gestured. "Cardinal Richelieu has been defrocked. He is now my husband."

"Oh - yes."

Gwen gave Shuri a sad and knowing glance as Shuri lowered her head, then looked behind her shoulder, where Richelieu was stiffly standing.

It was evening now by the time they reached their chambers, and Shuri was exhausted. She'd only meant to show Richelieu where he'd be staying - her own bedroom would be at the opposite end of the estate. 

"It would be wise to formally consummate our union," he said.

She turned to look at him. His face had its same infuriatingly passive expression. Dark eyes rimmed with dark circles, dressed in his priests' garb of cassock and collar, he looked solemn and tired. Shuri's mouth thinned. Her hand touched her stomach.

"I think Your Eminence forgets this union is already consummated."

He hesitated, then nodded.

Shuri turned, determined to leave him at his quarters, when he caught her hand.

She turned around again, and the draw of Sex Pollen made sparks flare at the feel of his rough calluses against her hand.

"Forgive me," he said, and he quickly dropped his grasp. Shuri pulled her wrist up to her chest, gingerly rubbing it as if she'd hurt her hand, while Richelieu turned away from her. "I was out of line. My apologies."

A strand of dark hair fell over the line of his neck, and Shuri had the urge to push up on her tiptoes and latch her mouth against the skin.

She took a breath, stealing herself. The Sex Pollen coursed through her veins as she made her decision.

"No, Your Eminence, I think it's right we properly consummate our marriage."

His dark eyes lifted. His brow knitted in a look of confusion. "What?"

Shuri scowled. Blushing furiously, she stepped forward and took his hand.

The simple act of contact made them both jump, startled at its effects. His hand was cold and the skin of his palm was rough and thick, and Shuri's mind snapped to the sense memory of those calloused hands running up and down her body, how he'd clung to her in his desperation.

"Don't act as if you haven't thought of it," Shuri muttered, glaring hotly. She stared furiously at the ground, refusing to meet his gaze, but continued to hold his hand.

Richelieu's expression softened. His limp hand slowly shifted to properly hold hers, his long fingers winding around hers. "Then let us begin," he said. He spoke with the same formality as if he were planning to start a meeting at Parliament. Shuri's eyes flicked upward, meeting his. She mutely nodded.

They walked into his quarters. Roberto had prepared the room quickly, but it was more spacious than Richelieu's former quarters, which Shuri had seen after Eugene had made them recite their vows, marrying them. She had been surprised at how his room was empty save for a cot and a desk, and even more surprised to find he only owned a few books and a cross, a well-worn bible with the pages earmarked. The quarters Roberto had prepared for them was simple, but comparatively more lavish - a large floor-to-ceiling window, which overlooked the garden. A desk and a sitting area, and a large, canopied bed.

Moonlight streamed from the open window, casting everything in a silvery glow as Shuri stepped determinedly in front of him, walking toward the bed. Her cheeks were burning but she'd screwed her face up in determination. She would not show Richelieu she was afraid, nor show any weakness.

She stood with her back towards him and began to strip, yanking off one thick sleeve of her dress, then another, pushing it down to her hips. The heavy skirts fell in a puddled heap, leaving her in only her chemise and corset. Glancing behind her shoulder, she was surprised to see Richelieu fingering the white square of his priest's collar. A dull blush settled on his sallow face, and he looked surprisingly nervous.

"What are you waiting for, Your Eminence?" Shuri said. Her tone was cold but her body was screaming for him. "Isn't this what you've always wanted?"

"You are mocking me in my distress," Richelieu murmured. Shuri took a step back, surprised. He looked conflicted and vulnerable, just like that first night with the Sex Pollen.

"Why are you distressed?" she asked, sitting on the bed. The adversarial tone she'd taken with him dropped, suddenly worried for him. Richelieu sighed, then stepped carefully around her, sitting next to her. The mattress bowed with his weight as he settled beside her.

"Until this morning, I was a priest," he said. "I only married you because you are pregnant."

Shuri's eyes dimmed. She nodded. "Yes," she said. Her hand unconsciously pressed against her stomach. "Thank you, Your Eminence. You've shown me more care today than I have. I forget you too were unfairly thrust into this."

His eyes were solemn as he nodded. Shuri took a breath.

"Then...do you not want to consummate this marriage? You were the one who suggested it," Shuri added. They were sitting at a polite distance, but Shuri was using all her willpower not to scoot closer and press herself against him. 

"I do," Richelieu said, but he didn't move. His eyes filled with a tortured look. "But I fear it is my lust clouding my judgment."

"From the Sex Pollen?" her voice was tremulous.

"Indeed, Lady Neuschwanstein. I fear I am still under its effects."

"As am I, Your Eminence," Shuri murmured. Her hand splayed across the flat of her stomach. Richelieu hesitated, then carefully reached out, then reverently touched her stomach with the tips of his fingers.

"Have you felt the child quicken?" he asked. Shuri shook her head.

"Not yet. The doctors tell me it is too early yet."

"The Church believes one is not pregnant until the womb's stirrings are felt," Richelieu said. "Therefore there is no sin partaking in the marriage bed."

His hand was large, the knuckles rough and the skin crisscrossed with heavy scars. Without thinking, Shuri covered her hand over his, then pressed his palm more firmly into her abdomen. The black sleeve of his cassock  had a scalloped edge, which covered part of his hand. She pushed that sleeve up now so she could more fully feel him. 

"I'd like to start, Your Eminence," she said, but her voice quivered. Her eyes flicked upward, meeting his.

Richelieu's face was grave as he nodded, and he gingerly scooted closer to her, the large heft of his body dragging toward hers like a boulder. Up close, Shuri could see the layers of his priests' robes, the black cassock and stole. He dropped his hand and Shuri carefully lifted hers up to push the stole back, and was slightly surprised to find it was attached at the neck. Wordlessly Richelieu bowed his head, then lifted his hands to unbutton the attachment.

The stole fell beside the bed. Shuri picked it up and marveled silently at the threaded slits at the back. "There are buttons?" she asked.

"Behind the back," Richelieu said, and Shuri moved around him to get a better look at the back of his neck. There, at the base of his collar, were three black buttons, hidden under a flap of fabric. Curious, Shuri moved closer to examine the buttons, smooth and small and discreetly hidden.

Whatever nervousness she'd felt disappeared as she curiously began examining his layers. She folded the stole and set it on the table next to the bed, then scooted closer to get a better look at him. She pressed her hand to his chest, not in an erotic movement, but more so she could steady herself and look closer at the white priest's collar and the white square at his neck.

"Oh, this is much larger than I thought it was, Your Eminence," Shuri said, her fingers slipping into his collar. What she thought was a white square of cloth was actually a stiff collar which was tucked into the black sleeves of his cassock. Her fingers slid down the skin of his neck, pushing down the fabric, and Richelieu reached up to help her, his own fingers undoing the button. The white slip of fabric slid out, and Shuri's eyes widened, surprised at how the opening of his neck looked like a mouth, the white priest's collar like a tongue sticking out. The bulge of his adam's apple lifted, then swallowed, and Shuri lifted her eyes to see his face, how he kept his eyes trained on his lap, not looking at her. 

"Are you nervous?" she asked, and she felt a swell of affection for him. He lifted his eyes and Shuri bit back a laugh. She smiled at him, leaning toward him. "We'd already done this."

"We were both beset by the effects of poison," he said, scowling, but his face was red. Shuri giggled, then hugged him.

She felt him stiffen at the contact. Beneath the coarse robes, she could feel the solidness of his body, the hard muscles made through vigorous worship.

He seemed nervous, and that nervousness made him unmoving as a rock on the bed, and Shuri remembered that Richelieu was a pious man thrown into impossible circumstances. 

"I am ashamed of my actions," he said, and Shuri stopped, moving to look at him. He hung his head. "I'd taken you like a beast and gave into my baser urges, and it was my inability to control myself that led us to this."

"We would have died if we didn't," Shuri said. "I'm glad we did it. I have no regrets."

Richelieu hung his head. 

"This was not the plan," he said, and he reached a shaky hand to his brow as his face wrenched. "God set me on His path, but now I cannot complete His mission."

"We would have died," Shuri said again. She leaned back on her haunches, studying him. 

"Forgive me," Richelieu said, his voice rough and wretched, and when he lowered his hand, Shuri could see his eyes were wet and swollen. "I had always believed I was saved for some higher purpose. But now I believe His gift has been wasted."

"Gift?" Shuri asked, moving closer to him. Richelieu nodded.

"When I was a child, I was an atheist," he said. "The Dregers all join the Church because our family cannot otherwise afford them. But then one night, I'd nearly drowned after falling off a bridge. I believe God saved me for a higher purpose."

"Do you believe in God's plan, Your Eminence?"

"I do, yes."

Shuri leaned forward.

"Then couldn't this be a part of it?" she asked. There was a tortured look in his eyes as he considered this. 

He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against hers, his eyes closing in exhaustion. Shuri lifted her arms to hug him, and he moved close, letting her gather him against her like she would one of the children.

She tilted her head up to kiss him. His lips were soft and dry, and he trembled as his lips parted. She kissed him again, and the tips of their tongues brushed. He gasped and bowed his head. 

"Is this okay, Your Eminence?" Shuri softly said, moving closer to him. Her hand gently rested against his waist. She could see the outline of his erection. 

He nodded, then sighed softly as she leaned up again to kiss him, carefully undoing the buttons by his neck. 

The cassock peeled away, showing the skin of his neck. She'd never seen Richelieu's neck except that disastrous night with the Sex Pollen, and the sight of his bare neck was strangely intimate. Carefully she pressed her lips to his pulse point, the triangle of strap muscle, the light bulge of his adam's apple, which dipped and swallowed with his shuddered breaths. He trembled as she lifted her hand to undo the buttons to his cassock, her fingers carefully moving down his chest. The line of buttons spanned through the line of his sternum, then stomach, until she reached his waist, just above his straining hardness. Carefully, Shuri slid her hands beneath the black fabric, then slid it off, revealing the white linen shirt, which she'd tugged out from his pants. 

"You're bleeding," she said, noticing the dark splotches at his back. Carefully her fingertips brushed over his nape, pushing back his hair to look at him. 

"They are old," Richelieu said. "It's been a few days since I've performed penance." 

Shuri nodded. Gently her fingers tugged the shirt up, then over his stomach. Richelieu gasped, gulping for breath. He was shaking violently. 

"Are you cold?" Shuri asked, but he lurched forward and kissed her, his hand roughly grabbing the side of her face, mashing his mouth against hers. Shuri let out a muffled surprised sound as their teeth clacked and his tongue clumsily invaded her mouth, swiping inside her. 

She giggled. He pulled back as if he'd been slapped, but she tugged him forward again, his linen shirt loose at the neck, his collarbone and part of his sternum showing as she kissed him, smiling at him. They broke away and touched forwards, Shuri beaming at him. "Sorry," she said ruefully. She bit her lip. "I just find you terribly cute, Your Eminence."

"Cute?" His forehead creased, and Shuri laughed, feeling a swell of affection for him.

"Yes, cute. You're adorable, Your Eminence." She scooted forward, nuzzling her head against his forehead. 

"I fear you are mocking my distress," he said, but he relaxed, and she giggled and kissed him, and he kissed her back. Carefully she moved her hand and gently stroked his hardness.

He groaned, then leaned his head against her shoulder, panting softly as she clasped his shape over his pants. One stroke, then another, before she moved her hand and slid it down his pants, feeling the warm, dense mass, the curved hard shape a perfect fit in her hand. 

She'd been so focused on touching him that she didn't notice how Richelieu hid his face against her neck, how he was panting as if he were sprinting a great distance, and then the thought occurred to her: "Your Eminence, I think we both ought to be naked."

She expected him to admonish her, but he just mutely nodded, moving to sit up and pull off his shirt, exposing his chest. Shuri's lips parted as she saw the muscled line of him, the thick slab of muscle, the crest of his ribs. His skin was pale, like the belly of a fish, and riddled with scars and bruises. It reminded Shuri of a piece of bruised fruit at the bottom of a stall in the market, and Shuri's heart swelled as she looked at him.

She leaned forward and brushed her lips over a bruise, and then another, as Richelieu trembled and hung his head. 

"Here," she said, and she began undoing the laces to her corset. Leaning back, she slid her fingers though the laces, loosening them, before the panels of the corset fell away, the chemise slightly damp from the compression. She leaned forward again to kiss him, her hand sliding down his pants to stroke him, and Richelieu broke away to gasp for breath. 

He was as passive as a virgin woman. Shuri was torn between feeling sorry for him and wanting to grind against his lap and impale herself on him, and she decided to go with the latter action. Pushing him back on the bed, she straddled him, her knees digging into the mattress, then climbed over his lap, leaning forward to kiss him.

Their bodies fit, the shape of his erection fitted tightly against her cleft, and as they kissed, she rocked over him. She sighed and rested her cheek against his chest, her arms sliding around him. 

It wasn't until she pulled back her chemise, her hair spilling around them, that Richelieu lurched forward, kissing her with barely concealed violence.

Shuri gasped. His hand roughly palmed her breast as he pushed her back on the bed. Rearing upward, he pushed down his pants, exposing his erection, which was heavy with prolonged arousal and leaking at the tip. And maybe it was because of the Sex Pollen, but Shuri leaned forward and took him in her mouth, her lips sealing over the shaft, making him let out a strangled gasp. She bobbed her head, tasting him, before pulling up again, then guiding him to her entrance.

He sank into her with a groan, and Shuri laughed with happiness. The angst of the last few weeks, the confusion and torment, fell away as he thrust up into her, their bodies a perfect fit. She loved him; it didn't feel like it was the poison.

After she'd clung to him, after she'd rode the rocking waves of his movements with her answering rhythm, the quiet pulsing of his orgasm felt vulnerable and intimate, and Shuri rested her arms around his back as she kissed him. She pressed adoring kisses up and down his face, ran her fingers through his damp hair as she held him. He sighed again and she beamed up at him. 

"God surely rewarded me with this," he said finally, and Shuri laughed, hugging him. It didn't matter that she was under the influence of poison, the swell of love and affection she felt for him made her happy and delirious. He was the father of her child, and she had married him. 

"Are you happy, Your Eminence?" she asked. She shyly twined her fingers around his. 

His eyes were dark and solemn when he answered her.

"Yes."

Chapter 53: Sequelae of Poison, Revisited (Pope Eugene's Visit, part 4)

Notes:

Opens with a flashback.

A thin watery light filled the chambers as Pope Eugene stood with his arms stretched, his acolytes helping him put on his vestments. The long, ornately brocaded mantle slipped over his shoulders, the gold and crimson threads gleaming against the bright white fabric.

Eugene walked. Acolytes bowed as he passed them, showing them the proper sign of respect.

"Your Holiness."

He gave them a nod of benediction, flanked by a small coterie of followers, as he went into his office.

"Your Holiness," Richelieu said, and Eugene paused a moment. The young cardinal was standing in front of his desk, but there was a slight stoop to his shoulders, and his dark eyes were rimmed with even darker bruises.

"You look terrible, my child," Eugene said. He motioned for his acolytes to leave them. Richelieu bowed his head.

Richelieu knelt. Eugene stepped close as Richelieu lowered his head in a sign of absolute fealty and reverence. "Arise, my child," Eugene said. "What is it that troubles you?"

Richelieu kept his head bowed as he spoke. "Your Holiness," Richelieu said, and his voice wavered. "I have committed a grave sin."

Eugene's features creased. Richelieu's voice quavered, but he kept speaking.

"I had engaged in hateful fornication eight weeks past," Richelieu said, "And now the woman in question is pregnant."

"What?" Eugene said. He let out a barking laugh. "You? Fornicate with a woman? My child," Eugene said, smiling at him. "Raise your head. How many of your brothers also have fornicated and sired children? Worry not, dear boy, the church will take care of it," Eugene said. Richelieu raised his head.

"It is the Neuschwanstein woman, Your Holiness."

Eugene straightened. "What happened?" he asked. Richelieu lowered his head again.

"We were attacked outside the confession booth and splashed with the poison known as Sex Pollen."

"I see. That is very serious, indeed," Eugene said.

Richelieu's voice was soft. "I can no longer work as your loyal servant."

"And why is that?" Eugene said. Richelieu bowed his head.

"I must marry that woman," Richelieu said. "She is carrying my child. I must do right by my conscience. I ask you, Your Holiness, to release me from my vows."

This must be torture for him. Eugene knelt in front of him.

"Raise your head," Eugene said, and Richelieu lifted his eyes to meet his. "You still are my loyal servant," Eugene said. "The Neuschwastein woman has always been the linchpin of our plans. And now God has provided an opportunity to see them to fruition."

"I do not understand," Richelieu said. Eugene smiled at him.

"You can manipulate the woman," Eugene said. "Twist her for our ends. You will be her husband and have access to the Neuschwanstein fortune."

Richelieu bowed his head again. Eugene rested a wizened hand on his shoulder.

"When God closes a door, another one opens," Eugene said. "Worry not the loss of your calling. The Lord has shown you another path, and we must take advantage."

"Yes," Richelieu said. His voice was soft. Hair fell over his eyes as Eugene smiled in benediction.

 

*****

 

Eugene laicized Richelieu then and there in his office.

"Marriage? Now?" the Neuschwanstein woman said. Eugene listened as Richelieu explained to her, as curtly as possible, the His Holiness would personally preside over their marriage vows, and the deacon would act as their witness.

That poor girl. Eugene felt a small twinge of pity for her. The Lord God was certainly punishing her, and though the Church was righteous, even Eugene felt for her. Quietly he draped the shawl over both her and Richelieu's hands as they faced each other, symbolically tying them together.

"This is now the bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh, and she shall be called woman, for she was taken of man," Eugene said to them. "And so you two shall be joined and be as one flesh."

The Neuschwanstein widow's eyes were downcast. Her face was gaunt and pale, her head bowed in resignation. Richelieu bowed his head in grim acceptance. Eugene felt very sorry for them.

 

*****

 

"You say he should be cardinal too?" Eugene said. Richelieu nodded. It had been some months after Richelieu's disastrous marriage, but true to Richelieu's word, he kept Eugene abreast of his attempted machinations. "The woman proves a formidable opponent," he had written, and Eugene felt it time to pay his loyal servant a visit.

"And how goes your marriage?" Eugene asked, as Richelieu started putting away his papers. Richelieu sighed and shook his head.

"She took the antidote to the poison, whereupon she realized the Church's intentions and forced me to sign a marriage contract."

Eugene scowled at him. "I hope, dear boy, that you have a plan for this?"

"It is difficult to act when the lady and her children are both suspicious," Richelieu said. He spread his hands. "I am alone in this. Whereas in the church, I had my hands and feet who could act at my behest."

"She is heavily pregnant," Eugene said. "A pity you had not secured the position as Neuschwanstein head. I assume that was explicitly forbidden in the marriage contract?"

"Indeed." Richelieu sighed. "In point of fact, she drew it up before she took the antidote. She is a distrustful and disdainful woman."

"You know, there are other poisons besides Sex Pollen. Cantarella, for instance," Eugene said. "Ah, but her death would be quite pointless. If God saw fit, He would take her during childbirth. But that would not advance the Church's purpose." Eugene stroked his chin.

"Continue to keep your eyes open," Pope Eugene said, rising. Richelieu stood and bowed at him.

"I will indeed, Your Holiness."

"A pity," Eugene said. He lay a wizened hand on Richelieu's shoulder. "I had hoped at least you'd experience the joys of a marriage bed."

"We have not," Richelieu said, and it was so deadpan Eugene stifled a laugh. This dour, dull-eyed man, somehow chaining himself to the Neuschwanstein woman. God must have a sense of humor, but even so, Eugene felt sorry for him.

"You could always insist on your marital duty as her husband. She is small and frail. Easy to hold down, if you catch my drift." Eugene winked at him.

Richelieu's face kept its neutral expression. "I could not do that, Your Holiness, for again, she is heavily pregnant."

"Afterwards, then." Eugene waved a hand. "Oh, come now, boy, don't scowl at me like that! I am only kidding, child. I know you to be an upright and righteous young man."

"Your Holiness," Richelieu said, and bowed again.

 

*****

 

Time passed. The seasons changed again.

The blonde deacon, now a cardinal, proved himself remarkably adept. Just as Richelieu had said, the boy was a most loyal servant. Eugene rested his withered hand on the blonde cardinal's head as the man bowed in fealty to him.

"And how is your former master?" Eugene asked. "He no longer sends me letters."

"You mean Lord Dreger?" the deacon said.

"Yes," Eugene said. "How many children does he have again?"

"Six," the deacon said.

"That many?" Eugene said. He stroked his chin. "Oh dear. No wonder he hasn't written any letters. How many years has it been?"

"Many, Your Holiness."

"Right. Yes. I think I should pay a visit to him," Eugene said.

His joints were stiff, his body riddled with arthritis. In the years that passed, Eugene went from a calculating and spry old man to a calculating but frail one, his body twisted like a comma as he walked. Soon, he would die, and God willing, the young blonde will take over. Already the other cardinals were nodding their approval.

They lived in an estate just on the outskirts of the capital. Eugene had already been informed of this - in order to counter Richelieu's influence, the Neuschwanstein woman sought to isolate him, moving their family away from the Neuschwanstein estate so that Jeremy could act as its head. It had been a source of contention, or so Richelieu had said to him. Eugene looked out the window of his carriage, at the dappled sunlight and the streaks of green leaves above him. He wondered how much of Richelieu's marriage had been steeped in conflict.

The footmen helped Eugene down from the carriage as Richelieu came out to greet him. "My child," Eugene said.

"Your Holiness," Richelieu said, and his face was gaunt and his eyes were bruised, and his long hair was combed back to the shoulders. He was wearing secular clothes, all dark colors, so that from afar, he still looked like the priest Eugene remembered.

"Papa, is that the pope?" a little girl asked, running up to him. Richelieu turned, bending toward the little girl.

"Not now, I need to speak to His Holiness."

"Aww," the little girl pouted, and Eugene noticed how much the child looked like him.

"Is that your eldest?" Eugene asked, as they both watched the girl scamper back. Richelieu nodded, grave and serious.

"She is."

"She seems quite rambunctious," Eugene said. Richelieu nodded, leading Eugene in.

"She is supposed to be learning her Latin," Richelieu said. "But as you can see, she'd rather play in the garden."

Eugene scoffed. "You are teaching her Latin?"

"And Hebrew, and Greek, and French and English. The child is actually quite intelligent. A pity she rarely applies it."

They reached the drawing room. The maids bowed. There were teacups prepared; sunlight streamed through the open curtains.

"Married life suits you," Eugene observed, as the maids left them. Richelieu nodded at him.

"I apologize," Richelieu said. "As you can see, it has been difficult exerting my influence."

"That is what I wished to talk to you about," Eugene said. Richelieu tilted his head. "Are you happy, my child?"

Richelieu's brow creased in confusion. "Why are you asking me this?"

"I have eyes and ears, my dear child, and they tell me yours is a strained and cold marriage," Eugene said. "A constant battling of wits. And for what purpose?"

"I apologize," Richelieu murmured, not looking at him. Eugene let out a heavy sigh and leaned forward, looking at him.

"Erwin," Eugene said, and the name made Richelieu flinch. Eugene smiled kindly at him. "Give this up now, Erwin. She is your wife. You have six beautiful children. I hope to believe all this time you've been tricking me, and that you two are actually happy in your marriage," Eugene said. "But I fear your loyalty to me has made you suffer greatly instead."

Richelieu said nothing, but Eugene could see his jaw clench. His dark eyes stared at the teacup, unfocused.

"Your Holiness," Richelieu said, and he hesitated. His eyes flicked upward. "I have always been loyal to my wife." And he spoke with such gravity and seriousness that Eugene burst out into an outraged laugh, surprising him. "Your Holiness?" Richelieu said.

Eugene laughed, joyous. "You love your wife!" Eugene said. Richelieu furrowed his brow at him. Eugene laughed again. "It gladdens my heart to hear it!" and Richelieu's face went from consternation to confusion.

"Why?" Richelieu said, bewildered. "You installed me to do a job and I failed at it--"

"I had worried," Eugene said. "You were always so fanatical with your devotion. I imagined the two of you butting heads, a power play taking place within your marriage. Do you love her?" Eugene asked, and for the first time, he saw Richelieu sag in front of him.

"Yes," Richelieu said. Eugene grinned at him.

"It must have been difficult, pretending to despise her."

Richelieu opened his mouth, then let out a soft, disbelieving sound, almost like a laugh. Eugene winked at him.

"Six children," Eugene said, looking around. "Come now, Erwin. You really think you could pretend to hate each other so much when you're surrounded by the fruits of your marriage bed?"

"Your Holiness-" Richelieu seemed embarrassed. Another revelation. Eugene had only seen Richelieu's cold and calculating gaze, never seen Richelieu blush or look away from him.

"Let us stop these pretenses," Eugene said firmly. He nodded at Richelieu. "From now on, think of me as your grandfather. I wish to meet your children."

"I fear you will be a bad influence," Richelieu said, with a sour expression, and Eugene laughed again.

"Well! What proper young man wouldn't have a lecherous old coot of a grandfather hounding him?"

 

*****

 

His children all looked like him. Eugene bent over, beaming at them. They were small and pale creatures with dark eyes and serious expressions, but their little faces broke out into sweet smiles as Eugene played with them.

"And this is the youngest?" Eugene asked, as Richelieu held the baby against his chest. Eugene bent over the baby, looking at him. "May I hold him?"

"Do not drop him," Richelieu said, and Eugene laughed again.

The baby was small and pale and his rosebud lips were parted. Eugene gently touched a wrinkled hand to the baby's forehead.

 

*****

 

He died in the spring a few months later.

The bells tolled mournfully in the distance. Mourners spilled out into the cobblestone roads as the funeral procession snaked through the capital. The sun was out; the sky was a brilliant blue as banners flapped and commoners threw flowers onto the casket. The cardinals stood on one side, lined beside the bishops, and as the deacon raised his head, he saw Richelieu and his family watching the procession. They would be crowning the new pope soon.

The deacon prepared his vestments. The papal conclave was quick, and no one was surprised when the deacon won the election.

"Your Eminence," a young acolyte said, and the deacon turned. The acolyte bowed toward him. "Congratulations."

The acolyte was young, probably the same age as he was when Richelieu had found him.

"Thank you," the deacon said.

His acolyte bowed his head. The deacon smiled at him.