Junowrimo Day #1
In honor of my first Junowrimo post, I’d like to share this moodboard inspired by my WIP’s villain(?) Sophrona, followed by this dialogue discussing Sophrona herself.
“Why is she called the Queen of Sorrow?” Eulalia asked, arching a dubious eyebrow. “Sounds a little melodramatic to me.”
Rona paused, hands still submerged in the soapy water. Her usually rigid shoulders now seemed to slump with the weight of whatever story she had to pass on. It was only for a moment, and then she straightened her posture once more and resumed her dish washing before speaking.
“I don’t care what we may think about Her Majesty,” she began, not even adding a sarcastic lilt to the Queen’s title. “What happened to her, I wouldn’t wish on anybody.”
Bewildered, Eulalia leaned closer as if she could somehow make Rona speak faster. “Yes?” she coaxed eagerly.
Rona glanced at her over her shoulder, unable to disguise her exasperation. Looking forward again to scrub at a particularly stubborn grease smudge, she pressed on. “Queen Sophrona lost her first child, a girl, while she was in labor.”
“Woah, woah,” Eulalia cut in. “You mean Decebal isn’t their first born?”
With a frown, Rona replied, “Technically no, but what does it matter? The poor mite died within minutes, and even if she’d survived, Decebal would still be the only valid heir.”
Eulalia struggled to wrap her mind around the idea of Decebal having an older sister, but then something else occurred to her. “So Sophrona is called the Queen of Sorrow because she lost a baby? What about all the women in Ophrendia who are too malnourished to support their babies? Or the women who do manage to give birth only to watch their children starve to death because they’re in poverty?”
Rona snapped her dish towel into the water aggressively. “You should have more respect for the dead,” she grunted, but Eulalia could tell by the way she wrung her hands that on some level she agreed. “It wasn’t just the baby, though I don’t see why that’s not enough tragedy for you. Her Majesty’s parents were poisoned by the castle’s cooks just the year before. One loss after another.”
“Do you really feel sorry for her?” Eulalia asked, eyeing her carefully.
In response, Rona thrusted the dingy dish towel in Eulalia’s hands. “Listen here, missy, I answered your questions. Now it’s time you earn your nosy keep with some chores.”
