The Letter V

“Violet!”

Violet sat up sharply in her bunk, startled from her sleep by the shrill voice. The quick motion caused her to knock her head on the bunk above her, and she winced as she cradled her wounded forehead in her hands. It was not the most graceful of awakenings.

Then again, she wasn’t the most graceful of people.

Groaning, Violet pulled at the sheet that had tangled with her legs and her nightgown overnight, as though they longed to never be apart. “Awake! I’m awake!”

The voice let out what sounded like a scoff. “Aye, and I’m the Queen,” it replied sarcastically without skipping a beat.

Violet rolled her eyes but lifted herself out of the small wooden bunk, stretching her lanky limbs. She was constantly amazed at the contortion she could manage to pull off during the night, always waking up to a new feat of human flexibility. She swore it was a talent that she had been naturally gifted with.

Quickly, she grabbed the cleanest-looking gown she could manage from her tiny chest of clothes - it was beige, with a nice-looking purple sash to tie it around the waist. That would do, she thought. It would have to do - nothing else within reach was clean, and asking to reach further was out of the question. Blearily, she looked for the matching purple ribbon that she had stashed in a corner somewhere to tie her hair back.

Elisabeth called again from outside. “Dress nicely today, dear! There are wedding guests arriving at the palace today, and I will not be scolded by her majesty about mangy servants again.”

Violet huffed. “That dress was fine,” she protested, eyeing the one that she happened to be wearing at the current moment.

“Wear the blue one!”

“Fine,” Violet sighed, pulling the beige dress off and throwing it somewhere that she would regrettably end up cleaning later on in the day. That was a problem for future Violet, she reasoned. Future Violet would be mature enough to handle it.

Moments later, after locating the aforementioned “blue one” and making herself look as presentable as possible, Violet rushed down the hallway outside of the maid's’ quarters. It was a long jaunt to the service room - the meeting area and heart of the palace. It was where Elisabeth would undoubtedly be giving the rest of the staff a lecture on the finer points of event planning, as was common for her to do in the face of large royal parties.

Violet could feel that there was a different wind in the air with this one, though. Prince Edmund, the kingdom’s most notorious bachelor, was to be married in a lavish ceremony held right here in Alvandor, the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the wedding of his parents, Charles II and Marion. The castle had played host to lavish parties and balls since then, but this was the first event in ages that the walls would be open to the citizens of the capital city to come and go through the day as they pleased.

Because of this, the service staff were panicking at the amount of work to be done.

Violet rushed past Philip, the head butler, as she made her way around a very old suit of armor. It wobbled unsteadily as she passed, trailed by a long plait of spun gold ringlets.

“Oi! Watch where you’re going!” Philip scolded, frantically grabbing at the armor.

Violet turned around quickly and grimaced. “Sorry, Philip! Running late!”

Philip huffed. “As per usual, I suppose. Send Elisabeth my regards,” he said, and turned to head off in the other direction.

Violet saluted half-heartedly and turned on her heel. “Yes sir, Mr. Butler sir!”

Philip scowled and adjusted his lapel. That girl would be the death of someone someday. Not him, surely, but some unfortunate soul who stepped into the storm’s path.

The girl picked up her pace, finally reaching the doors of the meeting room. No doubt, there would be a large group of gossiping maids on the other side of that door, who were being eyed on the outskirts of the room by the off-duty guards, the ostlers, and the chefs. Perhaps one guard might make an unsolicited pass at one of the younger maids, who would politely decline the advance, and then the rest would be too embarrassed to say anything until Elisabeth had finished whatever sermon she had prepared.

These meetings were boring. Violet paused for a moment, trying to even her breathing, before quietly slipping inside the door.

“- and that is why the Queen has requested the gold napkins instead of the white ones,” Elisabeth finished, glancing at a piece of paper in her hands.

Violet sank onto a bench at the back of the room near the door. She turned to see her friend, Carletta, holding back a laugh.

Elisabeth paused just long enough to give Violet a condescending look before returning back to her lecture. Violet breathed a sigh of relief - she had been spared the public embarrassment, at least for now.

“You’re late,” Carletta whispered, biting her lip and glancing at Violet out of the corner of her eye.

Carletta was older than Violet, but not by much - she was relatively new to the palace staff, but already she was liked by nearly everyone. She had a personality that was warm and welcoming, yet she worked hard and kept her head down when she needed to. The same couldn’t be said for Violet, she knew, who had a habit of daydreaming at inappropriate moments.

Violet sighed, smoothing out her skirt as best she could. It was useless - the blue dress hadn’t seen the light of day in weeks, and she feared the wrinkles would never come out. “Fashionably, of course.”

Carletta let out an unladylike snort.

Elisabeth looked up from behind her thick spectacles, and Violet knew it would be a good moment to choose silence.

“As if the wedding wasn’t enough,” Elisabeth continued, resigned to the fact that Violet was the sole reason her hair was graying, “The Queen has also announced a gathering for dinner tonight in honor of Prince Nathan’s return from military service. The cooks will be briefed shortly on the menu, but are otherwise free to begin preparation.”

With a few murmurs in protest, a handful of men made their way out of the room. They wouldn’t leave the kitchen for the rest of the day.

Violet furrowed her brows. Prince Nathan? Returning? She hadn’t heard of him setting foot in the castle in years.

Elisabeth finally stood up and smoothed her apron. “Thank you all for your cooperation. Meeting dismissed.”

And with that, the mumbling of the crowd grew louder as people began to stand up and attend to their tasks.

Violat remained seated, partly because she knew it would be a while before there would be any space for her to move, partly because she knew that Elisabeth would have a scolding or two for her, and partly because she was still thinking of Prince Nathan.

Years ago - it seemed like a lifetime ago, thinking back on it - Nathan and Violet had been something close to friends. There were few other children in the castle as they were growing up. Edmund was six years Nathan’s senior, and dubbed himself “too mature” to be seen with the scrappy little boy he had been. Roman, the youngest, was nearly ten years Nathan’s junior, and was hardly even around at all. Violet was unofficially welcomed as part of the servants as a young child - but she wasn’t even arguably useful until she had rounded age eleven or twelve, making her an ideal playmate for a young prince with few other friends.

They were drawn to each other from the start. Nathan was shy and meticulous, hardly ever daring to break a rule that he knew about. Violet was daring, adventurous, and hardly ever told Nathan about the rules in order to persuade him to break them. Violet had suffered the consequences more than once, but the thrill of the adventure was worth it. They brought out the best in each other, from what Violet could remember - at least while the Queen was away.

One day, Violet woke up in search of her playmate - and he was gone, without a word.

She’d find out later that the Queen had sent him to a lavish boarding school for the country’s most promising young men - she wasn’t sure what that could possibly entail, only that she would probably never know. After four years there, she learned that he had decided to stay another four years at university, the name of which had escaped her over the years, if it had ever even mattered in the first place. After eight years, she thought, surely he would return - only to discover that he had enlisted in a two-year contract with the nation’s military at the urging of his royal parents.

Violet hadn’t seen her childhood friend in nearly twelve years, she realized.

“Ten years,” Carletta interjected softly, patting her hand on Violet’s to bring her out of her trance. “Could you imagine being away from Alvandor for ten years?”

Right, ten years. Arithmetic had never been one of Violet’s strengths.

She shrugged. “How much time have you spent with the Queen?”

Carletta furrowed her eyebrows. “Very little, I believe.”

“Then perhaps you wouldn’t understand,” Violet retorted, folding her hands neatly in her lap and letting her lips curl into a sly grin.

Carletta rolled her eyes and stood up, offering a hand out to Violet to assist her. “Alright, funny girl, shall we head off?”

Violet stood up on her own, indignantly, causing her hair to tumble across her shoulders. She fidgeted this way and that trying to right herself, only to somehow cause the unruly golden mess to become even more tangled.

“Where to, your highness?” she said sarcastically, mocking a curtsey.

Suddenly, as if on cue, Elisabeth approached the two girls, carrying an array of what looked to be silk napkins in a woven basket.

“Ah, girls,” she said sweetly, in a voice that Violet recognized was only heard when Elisabeth wanted something. “Could you launder these, please? The Queen has requested her favorite table setting for the return of her darling son.” The disdain in her voice was apparent.

Before Violet could speak up, Carletta shuffled out the door. “Philip requested me for polishing the silverware,” she called behind her, gathering up her skirt in an attempt to escape faster. “Good day, Vi!”

And just like that, Violet was left with a large basket of smelly silk. It would mean at least half the day would be spent bent over a wet basin, the other half of the day would be spent keeping the rest of the staff away from the drying lines so as not to wrinkle the precious napkins.

Elisabeth chuckled as she turned away. “Ah, while you are out there, would you mind changing the bedclothes in Prince Nathan’s chambers? I can’t think of the last time they’ve been washed,” she mused, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Violet shifted the basket uncomfortably and sighed. “Right, of course.” She tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Even though they haven’t been used in years,” she mumbled, more to herself than anything.

The head maid offered her a sad smile.

“My Flower,” she said softly, using one of her hands to gently reach out and cup Violet’s cheek.

Violet sighed and leaned her face into the older woman’s hand, closing her eyes and breathing in the clean smell of her hands.

“I know the two of you had fun when you were young,” Elisabeth continued, “But the young boy you knew is not going to be the one who returns today. He left Alvandor as Nathan, your friend, but he returns today as Prince Nathan, son of Charles II, and second in line to the throne. I only hope that you temper your expectations.”

A moment passed. Violet sighed, but offered Elisabeth a smile as she hoisted the laundry basket onto her hip.

“Just yesterday I heard you lamenting about my temper,” she quipped, and turned out the door.

She could hear Elisabeth groan in frustration. “That’s not what I meant,” she heard her voice say, but Violet was already down the hall and off to collect the rest of the laundry for the day.

As Violet walked, she was lost in her own thoughts again.

She wondered vaguely what it would be like to attend one of these gatherings rather than remain on her side of it - to wear a beautiful gown rather than dress a lady in one. What would it be like to eat of a shiny golden dish rather than to wash it? Perhaps she’d never know, other than the rare occasion when she could sneak leftover food from the chefs after a lavish feast - which she was known to do, despite protests from Elisabeth.

Well, that had been a wrong turn, she realized as she approached a room she hadn’t noticed in a while. At a glance, she realized that the room looked to be a library. She had no use for a library, as her reading skills were dismal, and the royal family tended to stay away from it as well, leaving it usually empty.

What caught Violet’s eye was a head of long, white-blonde hair that stood inside it.

“Lady Penelope,” Violet greeted, tip toeing her way to the door.

Penelope turned around, startled, her great brown eyes open wide. “Oh! Pardon me, I didn’t see you there,” she breathed, a hand placed delicately over her heart.

Violet awkwardly shifted the laundry basket onto her hip and attempted to curtsey, but a napkin or two was dislodged in the process. “My apologies, Lady Penelope, for disturbing you.”

Penelope was a rare breed amongst the royals. The beautiful daughter of a wealthy fishing tycoon, she had been betrothed to Prince Edmund for some time now, but hardly spent any time in Alvandor. Instead, she was off performing acts of charity with her begrudging fiance in order to keep up public appearances - but Violet got the idea that Penelope actually enjoyed it. She was kind to the servants when she encountered them, and even went so far as to invite them to tea. While it was arguable that she wasn’t the brightest jewel in the royal crown, she certainly had a kind heart that made up for it.

Penelope reached for the fallen scraps of cloth before Violet could maneuver her way around the basket. “No trouble at all,” she said, carefully placing the napkins back in the basket before Violet could protest. “Violet, was it?”

Violet nodded unsurely, adjusting the basket clumsily.

Penelope grinned, and Violet was struck by how brilliantly white her teeth were. How did she do that? “I was just exploring the palace a little before the ball tonight - did you know this library was here? It’s fascinating,” she mused, craning her head up to look at the rows and rows of books. “I myself don’t like to read, but if you were that sort of person, it would be thrilling.” She turned back to Violet. “Don’t you think?”

Violet wasn’t sure how to answer that properly. “I’m not sure, Miss, I can’t read.”

Penelope’s face fell slightly. “Oh. Well, naturally, I suppose, It’s dreadfully boring, miss Violet. You’re not missing out on much.”

The girls were startled out of their conversation by a presence that could be felt before he was seen. It was as though the air in the room had turned at the feel of him.

Prince Edmund strode forward, nearly knocking Violet over in the process.

Edmund was a force in his own right - he was a large man with his father’s stately broad shoulders, whose presence took up much of whatever room he was in. He had dark brown hair that was pulled into a tail at the nape of his neck, a rich mahogany color that was mirrored by the clean beard that covered his jaw. He had a long, thin nose which made his face seem severe and angular, and which always seemed to look like he had just smelled something foul.

“His Highness, Prince Edmund,” a butler announced from the hall, but he had already appeared at the doorway before he could be announced.

“There you are,” Edmund scolded, striding over to Penelope in a flurry. “Come, I’ve requested tea in the garden. Perhaps that will cater more to your intellectual pursuits.”

Penelope seemed to flinch at the sound of Edmund’s voice. He certainly sounded stately, even when he was mildly insulting. “Right, of course.” She turned to Violet, placing a hand lightly on her elbow. “It was nice talking to you, Violet.”

Edmund scoffed and took Penelope by the arm. “They’re the help, Pen, it’s their job.”

Violet wanted more than anything to tell Penelope that she didn’t feel that way, but for once, she knew to hold her tongue. There was nothing she could say that would prove Edmund wrong - after all, she was only the help.

She got the distinct impression that this is what it felt like to be invisible.