The Villainous Villainess - Chapter 7

There was an increasing emptiness that continuously began to eat away in the center of the child’s body as she stood in front of the mirror in the room, the maids surrounding her.

Two focused on her hair, three fluffing her new gown, and five others gathering her belongings.

She repeated a mantra insider her head, forcing herself to not burst into tears. She shouted at herself to be strong for her family. To be what she had her current family and Leo to be, to be whom she needed to be.

Viviana emptyily started at her reflection in the mirror. Her lavender silk embodied dress, decorated with small pearls and diamonds on her chest in a floral pattern. On the edges of her dress and puffy Juliet styled sleeves were white lace. There was a white silk fabric that laid underneath the silt of its lavender counterpart in the middle of skirt and petticoat, decorated with matching lace trim.

‘Such a beautiful dress for a sombre situation…’ She thought.

Her neck and ears were decorated with pearls and driping tear drop diamonds. Elegant matching pins were placed on the sides of her half up-do. Her plum s-waved strands flowed like the meanders of a river.

Not once in her past life did Layla dress up in such an extravagant way, with the exception of senior prom. Though, she had to save up two years early.

Despite having money left by their deceased family, it was quickly used up a few years after their uncle had passed on. Making ends meet on the regular was hard for her and Leo, only catching a break when he had finally gotten hired as salesman at a fancy company after months and months of temp work there.

He was so happy, he picked her up from school as took her out to eat at the local one cream parlor, like he used to before their parents died. She’d always order a mint chocolate cookie ice cream sundae and he’d always get a vanilla dipped with chocolate ice cream cone.

Will she ever be able to taste the heavenly sweetness of ice cream ever again? Who knows…

And to think that in this lifetime she had nearly all the money in the world, thanks to the blood of thousands of broken and suffering of families across the continent.

‘I’m looking at you, herorin…’ She muttered internally.

A claw of guilt scratched within her heart, she loved her family but… Was it possible to forgive them for breaking away others?

Viviana grimanced.

‘Think of something else!’ Her mind pleaded, breaking herself away from the gnawing guilt for a small moment.

Thoughts ran rampage through her child sized brain, trying to formulate something to distract her.

Slam!

Her mother suddenly entered her room and marched towards the maids packing away her precious belongings. Her peach and cream colored ruffled dress flowing behind her as the white oak door shook, carrying the aftershocks of the vibrations of action.

“Ah, can’t forget your dresses your Uncle Calli got you!” Meilin exclaimed, her voice on the verge of shaking.

Her pale hands shakingly but quickly smoothing over the fabric of a baby blue dress as she folded it into the brown leather chest of luggage.

“Maybe we’ll just pack all of the dresses for special occasions since you’ll be seeing his majesty every day…” She continued, folding away fluffy expensive dresses away and into the luggage.

“And shoes and jewelry!” She exclaimed, turning to the white and golden rimmed wardrobe that sat aside the walls of her room, her violet bun that sat on the top of her head danced along with her swift movements. A couple of maids gathered around the said wardrobe and opened it. At the three bottom shelves laid at least three and a half dozen of shoes.

A group of butlers entered the bedroom with three more brown leathered luggages and sat then down on the carpeted floor.

As if it was routine, the bulters and the maids moved her belongings from the wardrobe into the luggages, with her mother watching. The pale woman turned towards her daughter, who stood still in front of the mirror as the maids finally finshed putting the final touches onto her. They dispersed like birds as the matriarch walked to her youngest.

“Mama?” Viviana called out to her mother. Her mother stood behind her and her petite hands gently stroked her plum strands that the maids neatly braided into a beautiful half up-do rose shaped bun.

Meilin’s nimble fingers grazed over her daughter’s shoulders and she shakingly gripped them. Viviana watched her mother’s earthy eyes flood with tears.

The carved white jade bangles on her mother’s wrists reflected the sunlight in the mirror, dancing side to side as Meilin stroked Viviana’s hair.

The room felt like it darkened, like the sun finally had gone under the horizons and the moon and the stars were on the verge of decorating the skies.

The rustling of the servants working began to decrease and all she could hear was her heartbeat and her mother’s slight movements.

Meilin sniffled her nose as tears fell down her face, refusing to look at her reflection in the mirror. The young child looked up to her crying mother, her small hands reaching for her mother’s.

Throughout this chaotic day, this was the first (and perhaps the last) time she closely studied her mother. As from being from the eastern continent, Meilin’s skin was pale with an undertone of a golden wheat-like color and if you looked closer to her face, there were small freckles that were splattered onto the bridge of her nose and her cheekbones. Her most eyecatching features were the mole that sat prettily on the apples of her left cheek and her eye smiles that laid beneath her earthy eyes, making them appear larger and younger.

In the little sunlight the sky had left, Viviana burned the image of her mother into her brain. After all, there was no telling the next time she could ever see her family again. Viviana silently cursed the rules placed within the title of Consort Rose.

Meilin’s hair was such a vivid violet that Viviana would had believed that she would have been wearing a wig if her straight eyebrows and lushous lashes were not the same shade.

As if to hide her tears (although Viviana had already seen them), her mother’s lips gently pressed themselves onto her sun-kissed forehead.

Meilin then separated herself from her daughter and grabbed onto her wrists, pulling off a jade bracelet. Her mother then took the small wrists of get child and slipped the piece on.

The pair of white bracelets were carved with vines and floral patterns. It was too big to fit the tiny circumference of Viviana’s wrists, but Viviana couldn’t help but secretly vow to never lose this bracelet and to never take it off.

Viviana had heard stories of her mother’s homeland and family; and how on her wedding, her parents had gifted her with the two jade bracelets as their last gift to their daughter. And now her mother was passing on a bracelet to her.

Chills suddenly ran up her back. The gravity of the situation was finally settling in.

Viviana was being “married” off and just like her grandparents, her mother was giving her one last gift.

“Madame, we have finished packing the young lady’s belongings.” A bulter called out to her mother, waiting for her orders.

Meilin sniffled and wiped away her tears and snot that was beginning to build up on her nostrils before turning towards the servants.

“Wonderful. Bring them to the entrance, would you?” She commanded in a soft voice. The servants nodded and gathered the leather luggages before leaving the bedroom.

Meilin reached over for her daughter’s hand and like any child, Viviana linked hands with her mother.

“Come, your father and brother are waiting for us. Let us show them how pioling you look, baobei.”

Viviana nodded at her mother’s words, following her mother’s footsteps as they exited get bedroom and into the white hallways of their home.

A pang of sadness stabbed into the heart of the child. Meilin only called her endearments or spoke in her mother tongue when they were alone or with family, never with servants on the same room.

‘You must never let the servants hear you when you speak mother’s language, mimma. Understood?’

Viviana remembered her brother’s words, echoing within her brain. That there was always a certain look in their eyes when they heard their mother speaking in her native language that Meilin and the other two male family members didn’t like. It was like there were saying, ‘You’re different from us, why should we have to listen to the likes of you?’

Memories ofLayla’s childhood resurfaced; her father was Chinese and her mother was Thai, it was hard switching between both languages at home with the addition of English to communicate with others outside of home.

Layla’s father used to speak Mandarin often at home to teach the pair of children until his untimely death. Her maternal uncle was the only family left and thankfully spoke Thai every chance he could get, continuing his sister’s work after her death. Then, after their uncle’s death, Leo made it an effort to make sure Layla was fluent in their mother tongue and to be in touch within their culture. The latter always resulted in Leo’s Muay Thai training and eventually into his MMA training.

Although Layla and Leo’s Mandarin was rusty and non-existent (on Layla’s part), their Thai was nearly on par with natives who lived in the other half of the world.

They never spoke on their native languages in public either, she suddenly recalled.

Though it took a few minutes, they finally reached the entrance of their manor, a large room with curved marble bifurcated staircases, the banisters and balusters made of gold. There sat a giant portrait of the family of four in the middle landing where the two staircases met, along with sculptures and vases of fresh flowers.

‘It must have been painful for mama…’ The youngest pondered.

Thrown into a completely new country knowing that you’ll probably never see your family again in exchange for whatever dark business either party was into and then being looked down upon just because you were another ethnicity/nationality despite being married to the patriarch of the family.

Luckily, as if it was a match in heaven, her parents found to love each other as their true selves rather than treating each other as their spouse from an arranged business marriage.

Viviana could only wish to have the same luck as her parents in this life, her betrothed be crown prince or not. Hopefully the latter, she silently prayed.

The two descended from the top of the marble stairs, their heels clicking as they stepped down despite the teal carpeting placed in the middle of the steps. As mother and daughter reached the end of their first stair case and onto the landing, Viviana watched as her father and brother then their heads from two imperial Knights that stood near the tall white oak entry doors and towards the last two members of their small family.

Their matching turquoise eyes widen and soften at the sight of the youngest of the Valentino dukedom. Her father beamed at the sight of her appearance, releasing a soft but hearty laugh. A burdened grin appeared on the youthful face of the Valentino heir but his eyes never faltered from the sight of his sister.

“Mimma, you look beautiful.” Her father tells her, walking to her with his arms wide open.

Mother and daughter finally reach the end of the stair case, their hands releasing from each other. Viviana’s chest tightened, a heavy feeling sinking to the bottom of her stomach.

Vittorino’s bronze hand extended towards his daughter, who readily took it. A soft smile creeped on his lips but could not hide the moisture building up within his eyes. With his free hand, the patriarch caressed her chubby cheek and guided Viviana towards the entry of their home.

Her mother linked her hands with Vincenzo, the two somberly watching the scene between father and daughter making their way towards them.

When they had gotten close enough, Vincenzo took his younger sister’s free hand and softly placed a kiss on the back of it.

Before she knew it, she felt a wet sensation on both sides of her cheeks; her parents had sneaked on either side of their youngest and placed what could be their last kiss to their daughter.

The three sighed simultaneously with shaking voices, their arms bundling around her tiny body.

She could hear the heartbeats of her family and for a small moment relished in the sound. They released her, tears streaming down their faces.

Viviana stared at her brother’s streaming face, her heart tightening across her chest and her stomach falling to the ground. Her lungs constricted when her flowing eyes looked at the red and wet face of her father; her calves shaking and weakening when she turned to glance at her sob-stricken mother, who failed to control her body shaking wails.

Heavy footsteps could be heard behind them, the armour of the imperial knights clanking and rubbing against each other as they slowly stalked towards the family of four.

Viviana’s breathing increasingly got heavier and heavier, she couldn’t breathe fast enough to match with her pounding heartbeat.

She’d seen her parents cry when she had awoken from her well deserved rest after the bridge incident but Viviana had never seen her big brother cry her entire life.

A fimilar feeling sparked through her veins and her body was set ablaze. She loved her family and though she might never find forgiveness in her heart for their wrongdoings and hypocrisy, she couldn’t help but feel the embodiment of the saying, “blood is thicker than water,” resonate in her very being.

“We must go, Lady Viviana. His highness is waiting for your arrival.” A low clear voice gently called out to Viviana, distribing the somber family goodbye.

Vincenzo’s hand squeezed her’s a final time before releasing it. A white handkerchief with a beautiful violet hyacinth embroidered onto the center of the cotton fabric with a simple but elegent floral lacing on its rims was gently wiped against her tear stained face.

She looked at her family one last time, her hands taking the handkerchief from her father’s calloused hands. She stepped forward, towards the two imperial knights, and turned to her family. She softly smiled as sve swallowed the ball of mucus that built up on her throat and forced it down.

“I’ll be on my way now, mia famiglia.” Viviana spoke in a soft yet firm voice and pronptly performed a curtsy. “Please take care of yourselves and be well.”

She didn’t dare to look back as she followed the knights out the entry door and into the extravagant white and golden carriage, ignoring her mother’s wailings behind her.

The tall and hearty knight lifted her tiny body into the carriage before stepping inside with her and closed the carriage door.

Viviana closed her turquoise eyes and her bleeding heart.