Bellavarn woke to his father's face.

"Who? Where am I?"

"You didn't lose your memory again, did you?"

Bellavarn looked around groggily. He felt. He felt something. Something. Missing? What was he missing? Memory? He... he was Bellavarn Sallow. Wasn't he?

It came back with an intake of air that floored him. He held his head as the memories overlapped. Bellavarn of Earth and Bellavarn Sallow.

A small toy train. Playing with the Duchess's icy blond curls. Sitting in depravity while waiting for a callback. Playing catch with his Dad. Attending his first social gathering. Falling in love for the first time. His parents' funeral. Learning all about magic tools. Going to high school. Tutors drilling him about mathematics. Being cheated on. His father's insistent questions. Dangling from a ceiling fan.

Melody.

Bellavarn coughed up a lung. He clawed at his throat, but there was no rope—nothing to untie.

"Bellavarn! What's wrong?"

Tears were running down without notice.

"Father... Father. I- it. I can't. I thought I was- I shouldn't be..."

His father sighed and wiped his son's tears with a handkerchief. Deciding this is one of the moments to be a father and not a Duke. He held his son as he cried into his shoulder. Wailing away like a child, babbling and sniffling.

"It's alright. You're alright, Bellavarn. You are a strong man. You are my son."

=

He remembered everything.

Bellavarn stared at his reflection in the washroom mirror. Water ran down his face and neck. Normal mundane water. It clung to his skin.

"Two lives."

He stared at his reflection in the glass. The mirror was smooth and shaped, with no bubbles or irregularities.

"Should I say it's like back home, or is this world my real home?"

Bellavarn resisted the urge to pick at a cut across his temple near his hairline. Collapsing dramatically had the side effect of banging his head against the floor. The small cut would likely leave a faint scar. Sallow's second scar ever.

How manly.

He rubbed his head as he felt a headache coming on. The memories from both his lives merged and fought, battling for control. The memory of dying. Who was he? Was he Bellavarn or Sallow? Both? Neither? The pain increased.

Kicking the door to his bathroom transferred the pain to his toes.

Did it really matter? He had both sets of memories: heartbreak and a noose tied around his neck.

He rubbed a hand over his throat. No bruising or scars. No indication he died. Did he die?

It hurts.

He rolled over onto the bed. His head was splitting. His heart felt like competing to see which would tear itself asunder first.

One hand on each, it was a feeble attempt to staunch the metaphysical wounds. Then he started laughing, remembering a silly childhood memory. Rub your stomach, pat your head?

Hah!

Hahaha.

...

hah.

=

The laughter ceased. Tears threatened to replace it. Was he always such a crier?

His father's words haunted him—the Duke's words.

Melody was gone.

When Bellavarn collapsed, the arguing ceased. Each parent took one of them and departed, only to resume arguing in private. Apparently, his mother was a fierce woman indeed.

Mother didn't believe I was innocent.

Not that it was easy for father. Anyone who saw Melody like would conclude what had happened. Everyone knew where she spent most of her time that week.

Yet his father believed him. Bellavarn owed his life for that. His mother?

He remembered his mother now. A beautiful woman. Fierce, yes. But also loving. She loved him more than anything in the entire world. The memories of her hugs that wouldn't let go made that very clear.

Sallow truly believed in his mother's love with all his heart. It must have been terrifying being confronted with the possibility that her son was a monster.

"Aaaah!"

He threw a pillow. It impacted softly with his dresser. Like fate, it knocked his journal to the ground.

Damn plot devices.

Cursing under his breath, he got up and retrieved the journal. He flipped through the first few pages. Sallow remembered writing each word. Drawing his mother and the various servants around the house. The later pages revealed hesitant lettering. Next was a sketch of his own face in the mirror. It was drawn with jagged and unconfident lines.

Bellavarn's handiwork, not Sallow.

"Ah, my head."

Leaning back in pain, Bellavarn almost managed to ignore fate. Unfortunately, it happened anyway.

The last page turned on it's own.

"Fuck."

Bellavarn guessed it. He already knew what it held. It tore at him all the same.

On the last page was a portrait in magical blue ink, created with a certain magical tool. It depicted a 3/4 view of Melody as she poured tea. Her face was bright and naturally smiling. Hair flowing freely down her neck. A black and white lace choker.. Monochrome garments with frills.

The image almost glowed when cast in his shadow.

Bellavarn hid the drawing from her, not wanting her to see it. He was an incredibly self-conscious artist, just like Sallow.

Did she ever see this?

"Ah! Damn it all to hell."

It was all or nothing.

"Oslo!"

The doors to his room opened a few moments later. A portly butler seemed to have been waiting. Sallow remembered the older man. Oslo was a long-time employee that watched the young Bellavarn grow up. There was no one the family trusted more.

"Sir?"

"Oslo. I need a favor, but you aren't going to like it."

"Chasing after the young miss, sir?"

Bellavarn blinked. He was somewhat hurt that he could be seen through so easily.

Oslo didn't wait for a confirmation of the obvious.

"Very good, sir. This way. Your father prepared an escort."

Even father.

A knowing smile played on Oslo's lips. Bellavarn viciously fought the smirk creeping onto his face and marched out.

Oslo rolled his eyes and grabbed the winter jacket Bellavarn had forgotten.

=

"Her place of residence seems to have changed since applying as a maid, so we'll have to ask around to see where she went."

"That is fine. I don't have high hopes. Still, I have to try."

Oslo's black mustache curled as he smiled.

"Well said."

Both of them rode in a carriage with two of the Duke's most trusted guards, Henry and Kerv. The carriage passed by snowed-in storefronts and houses. The architecture in the capital seemed familiar, but Sallow had no idea where they were going.

It didn't matter. He trusted in Oslo.

"I assume she is special, young master?"

That was Kerv. Henry elbowed him, eliciting a metallic clang and a wince.

"Of course she is; we wouldn't be here otherwise."

"I was just-

"You know what you were doing."

"It's fine, Henry. Do you all know that I had amnesia by now?"

Nods all around.

"I was lost. Afraid of what to do next. I woke up to a maid entering my room. If only I knew."

Bellavarn recounted the short story of how he fell in love. The others were silent for the most part. When it was over, Kerv spoke again.

"So you're memories have returned?"

Bellavarn looked out the window at farmland, taking a moment to reflect.

"Yes. But they are more than I wanted."

"What does-oof!"

Bellavarn chuckled as Kerv rubbed at his side. He didn't respond, simply sinking into thought. The world passed by around him

What would he say? How could he approach Melody? She probably didn't even want to see him after what she went through. Who could have harmed her? Bruises? Had she been hiding them the entire time and suffered in silence? Her smile was so bright.

A woman being abused under his nose still managed to smile, teach him, serve him tea, blush, and kiss him. Bellavarn couldn't imagine a stronger woman than Melody.

It crushed him that he had been oblivious to it all. Not noticing anything even with partial memory. Was he an idiot?

"Young master."

How does all that happen under someone's nose? Why didn't Melody come to Bellavarn? Did she not trust him? Was she too afraid of the attacker? How could-

"Young master."

"Hm. What?"

"We've arrived. This is where she lives."

"Already? That was fast."

"Young Master, it's been hours."

Bellavarn started; he examined the sky. An orange glow faded into purple. Night was arriving. Had he been lost in thought the entire time?

"She's here?"

"There are signs someone is living here. And the neighbors all say that someone matching her description resides at this address."

Bellavarn looked around. Vast barren winter farmland off to his left. Sparse buildings leading into a nearby town to the right. Snow littered the roads. The distance they must have traveled wasn't minor. He would have to make sure to repay everyone for this.

"Alright. I'll go knock."

"Would you like us to accompany you?"

"No, Kerv. You and Henry can stand guard outside. If she is here, and if we talk, you are not to enter. No eavesdropping either."

They saluted. Oslo seemed proud for some reason.

"Good luck, young master."

"I owe you one, Oslo."

"As you say, young master."

Bellavarn rolled his eyes as the butler bowed his head. Sallow was lucky to be surrounded by such good people.

With a deep breath, then two, he approached the door and knocked.