Violet Shadows

40

Christine's fingers drifted across the papers scattered around her study, paperwork meant to be filled for all the leaving and selling. "I have a ..cousin named Stephen." She felt a tremor in exposing the other life of herself, a further chill as she questioned what was safe to speak of and what to hide.

But Issac did not judge her. He nodded in comfort, "I don't have anyone to tell."

She laughed a little at that. At the same moment, a thought flashed across her consciousness. Maybe discussing things would soften the burden she carried for so long. The confusion that heaved its way down her throat. "My cousin and I have never gotten along. W—We thought that time would fix it, or maybe I thought that time would fix it, but it never did. And then, he fell in love with my friend." Christine said, "My only friend."

"I see." Issac shifted in his seat, unsure of where to ask, and if asking would be too intrusive.

Talking about things that wouldn't change left Christine melancholy. "It's been months since I've seen her, but I can still hear her voice. How crazy is that? I must be going mad." Wrong, she was mad. Mad enough to be inside a book Violet adored. If anything, this would've been Violet's dream and Christine's nightmare.

"What happened to you two?" Issac swallowed. "Where is she now?"

"Dead." She said, unable to keep the ice from her voice. "She's just a memory now. And her death... It made everything worse with Stephen." At the mention of his name, anger surged, familiar and biting. Those poisonous thoughts swarmed like hard plaques through years of building. "It makes me angry." She spat, exacerbated. "I don't know if he hates me now because that person is gone or if he's always felt that way to me. Whenever I try to ask he explodes. And then I explode because he's not being clear about anything. I just—I don't know what to do."

Issac's lip quivered. "My lady—"

"Roma." She was sick and tired of the title. "Just call me Roma."

Seven months ago he wouldn't have been able to fulfill the request. But so much had changed, and now she was letting herself be as vulnerable as he. Exposing a secret that ate her up. Issac said quietly, "Roma, sometimes we do things that can hurt others without even knowing. And it's hard, because everything thinks that pain is physical." He licked his lips, adamant. "But... it's not. People don't realize when they're being a monster until someone tells them about it. The problem is we go through life expecting that someone will tell us, or that their cries or anger will be obvious enough. But we're human, and nothing is easy. No one hates for no reason. If Stephen never told you about the things you did, you may look at him and think he's the one who's being a monster, but sometimes, you might just be looking into a mirror."

Christine sank in silence. "Thank you, Issac."

They did not speak after that. Her arms were left stiff at her sides, throat sinking deeper in its place at the study while Issac painted. She reached another anchor within herself, and it left her pulse reedy.

Time ate away at Christine's empathy for her brother. Even more with Violet. She stifled seeing anything, or perhaps everything, from Stephen's perspective because she was always the brunt end of things. It did not make her wrong. But it did not make her right.

Christine refused to say another word throughout the afternoon.

Compared to the moments where she scowled over the heaps of paperwork needed, she worked on them without much thought. Her body fell asleep in the familiar actions, checking over accounts and dribbling across a sluggish copy of Roma's signature, which over time shifted into something easier to rewrite. Cleaner, smoother, wasteful work for a name she'd soon abandon.

The fact both thrilled her and terrified her.

Fortunately for her, days of preparations led to easy but taxing reports. Liquidating currency and transporting around Western Kingdoms and Northern Empires took far more than purchasing a ticket. Fiddling with the stacked papers on her right, she took the first one on top and curled it within her hand. Christine winced. More confirmation—endless channeling to prove her identity since regal nobles from Valltore did not store their coin in foreign banks.

What a waste of paper, Christine thought, brandishing a paper that needed confirmation on her baptismal name since the Holy Church of Dianra was apparent in nearly all nations. Except for the catering versions of the Goddess's name, she wasn't sure how important it was until a third of her papers demanded it. Scowling, she set her head maid to retrieve the materials which were now sitting in a thin packet on the short side of her study. She hadn't opened it yet, pouring over the easy parts before she'd be swallowed in religious lore.

Fortunately, her work gained her insight into the history between Valltore and the church. Valltore made it required for each citizen to receive a baptismal name after the first few months of birth, in light of its past loyalty to the church which was now receding after the current king rose to power, but with each name came payment for the official ceremony. The requirement would be regarded as ordinary if it wasn't common knowledge that those payments made for the baptismal name were returned to the King in lew of taxation. A cycle drying the pockets of both the citizens and the church, and fattening the King's vault.

Christine placed the confirmation paper at the center between two careening piles of letter stamps, leaning forward to skim through the overview and seeing the fine print of Roma's name. Christine grimaced. Roma Necron Thea dis Ducal. It was the most obnoxious villain name, harder to imagine the author coming up with it. As if the word 'Necron' wasn't revealing enough.

Loss for further condescending, she studied the wording with an apprehensive eye, before giving in and fetching a dictionary. Thea dis meant under the royal house, Valltore-Theacline. The official name of the royal family, though they disregarded the second part when naming the strip of land that nestled firmly around the west ends of Dajha and the silkening oceans that enveloped Margrita.

Christine did not stop the condescending from rising within her thoughts. Books and their names had such a way of being obvious. Most times, authors weren't dumb enough to go with something outlandish but then again, there was always a story to prove her wrong.

Christine refilled the ink within her pens and jotted down the full name of Clara. Clara Margrita de Dian Ascarot. Lovely, large, ordinary for a princess. But then what did Clara's name mean? No, the paperwork needed to be filled. A distraction like this would only—

Goodwill drowned the words, and she flipped through the pages in search. De Dian meant under the Goddess's eye.

Christine had never wanted to slap herself more.

No more distractions. She shut the dictionary closed and made a futile attempt to rest the thick book out of touch with the heaps of paperwork scattered around her study. It would have to make due.The thin packet of Roma's baptismal name was in her hands, weighing no more than a ram of bamboo, and set it open as she recollected the paper she discarded.

Pen raised, she turned to copy.

Before shock washed over her, and then her eyes raced across the name. Again and again.

Because Roma's baptismal name was not obviously long, or another play or words that would leave her brooding. It was normal.

It was familiar.

It was Christine.

—❀—

I've been waiting to drop this bomb 30 chapters ago.

-Mel

—❀—

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