In the ancient language, Vera meant "truth," but one could also interpret it as "faithful."

My mind spun as I tried to make sense of what had occurred. Middle names were not uncommon among the nobility but were unheard of for commoners, so the fact I had one while living as a commoner must've been a shock to the duke and everyone in the room. I wonder if the lack of response was because everyone but (then) me knew I was a duke's daughter.

Among the nobility, those with higher ranks tended to have middle names. Middle names were used as a form of rank identification, or something akin to an introduction. For example, Duke Orzo's full name is Cedric Asher Orzo. Each duke takes the first name of the house's founding duke when they become the head of the household. Thus, Cedric Asher Orzo and I would be Iristella Asher Orzo by tradition once I became the duchess. Similarly, the regent of Pastillia takes their family name as their middle name and Pastillia as their surname during their coronation. Should I become empress, I would be named Iristella Orzo Pastillia.

Because of this practice, those within the empire revered middle names, and only those of the imperial and ducal houses typically held middle names.

A given middle name is rarely done and represents affection for the child. The name often symbolizes the parents' hopes for the baby, so they are often given after much thought and consideration and always gifted with love. But given names were only practiced among the nobility and (very, very) rarely commoners.

My mother was a strange commoner since she gave me a middle name upon my birth. Noviette meant "little star" or "little brightness/light" in the divine language, but also meant "destruction" in the ancient language. I often wondered which "Noviette" was my mother's true intentions and wishes. Did she see me as a little star? Was I a ray of light, a brightly lit path? Or was I a shackle to the Orzo duchy she'd left behind? Perhaps... I was both.

Whatever her reason, she chose and gave me the name Noviette out of love.

And that love made me resent my father who had also given me a middle name because he'd stripped me of the name Noviette when his even toned voice declared me Vera. The empire's greatest tyrant, renaming me Iristella Vera Orzo, effectively erased my mother's love and wishes with two short syllables. 

Even so, all of his actions were all out of character for the duke. He had given me a middle name and clearly acknowledged me as a member of the household and as his heir.

But I wonder why he kept Iristella. 

It couldn't be because he cared about my opinions or respected my mother's name choice; he'd rename me with the same blasé afterthought one would have for a goldfish's baptism. Maybe it's because he found Iris fitting because of my eyes rather than seeing my name as Iris, the flower.

I couldn't tell if the duke's name choice was beneficial to me or not.

Because names held great importance and power in Pastillia. 

Names were like the cover of a book, and one was judged quite heavily upon it. It was the sign that indicated one's worth and station in life. 

― William Shakespeare, Othello

The people of Pastillia certainly took Shakespeare to heart. 

My mother probably wasn't any different. She'd named me Iristella after the constellation, but she has only ever called me Iris, like the flowers she kept blooming on our windowsills. Purple flowers like the robes that adorned the noblest of the empire blanketed our humble home; flowers filled with valor from olden tales and tall myths.

That was who I was to my mother—an iris flower that she lovingly cared for daily and helped blossom even when it was out of season. But I was Iris in an entirely different vision through my father's eyes.

I was Iris of the golden irises. I was the unwanted daughter—perfect and desired only for my golden eyes and nothing else. Whereas I shone golden in my mother's eyes, only my eyes were gilded with worth in my father's iridescent irises.

What was in the name of a ghost that existed yet didn't live? What did a name matter caged in this labyrinth lair? Was a name necessary for a soul that is never recognized and acknowledged? But these thoughts and questions were futile; only those with better fortunes and brighter fates had the privilege of worrying about a name filled with importance and pride.

On the other hand, I had more pressing things to worry about.

I needed to find a way to survive.

Iris wasn't an ill-mannered child from birth. On the contrary, she was a bright and happy child before she became Iristella Vera Orzo. I'm confident she would've grown to be a caring and righteous woman like her mother was—is. But Iris grew up in an environment laden with neglect and hostility.

And there were several notable reasons why.

Duke Orzo had a wife, Sienna Orzo and two no-name concubines (and Iris's mother, of course).

In the novel, Sienna Orzo tormented Iris out of envy towards Elle. Sienna was never able to conceive a child. This fact made her resent the women brought in to fulfill the duty she couldn't. She hated the other concubines who stole her husband's attention and affection from her. 

And she hated Iris for existing.

Iris was the reminder of her perceived failure. And Iris was the proof of her husband's lack of interest in his arranged wife.

Sienna Orzo hated Iris. 

Even hate was too shallow of a word to fully measure the level of malice Sienna harbored for the child.

Sienna was a spiteful, conniving, cruel woman. Ever since they arrived at the Orzo duchy, the other concubines have feared Sienna, so they both did what they could to survive. They followed Sienna's commands and bullied Iris, mistreating her the moment she arrived. The concubines might've never wanted to bully or neglect Iris, but there was no way a five-year-old could understand why these women despised her. Children may not know why they're mistreated, but they know when they are unwanted and disliked. 

As an adult, I understand why these no-name concubines made their choices; one became Sienna's lackey, and one ignored Iris altogether. I logically understood, but I couldn't emotionally understand it. It boiled my blood and made me livid.

How could they be such pushovers? There had to be more than one path to survival. One other than placating the evil wife that inflicted torture and trauma upon you and abusing a preschooler. Especially since I had first-hand knowledge that Sienna was the heinous weaver of ill fate each concubine has met during their pregnancies. 

Sienna was the root of all evil, I swear.

How could these women sit around and lick her heeled shoes when she was the cause of such pain, loss and suffering? How could they watch Sienna torment a literal toddler? Where were their morals? Where was their reasoning as adults? Did they believe it wasn't their duty to protect a helpless child?

But that was how Iris grew up.

An absent and dismissive father, a no-name concubine who pretended she didn't exist, another no-name concubine #2 who bullied her, and a named stepmother who tormented her every waking moment and threatened her life all the other minutes when she breathed. And servants who belittled her and scorned her existence.

Iris lived in a household that wished for her death and lavished her with harm. All because the mistress of the house hated her. 

These stupid cronies.

Iris had no chance to grow up normal. She never even had the option.

She only knew how to lash out and be angry—and I don't blame her. How could anyone grow up to be a sane human being with a childhood and home like the one that nurtured Iris?

And on top of that, her father is a bona fide psychopath, and Iris inherited his anti-social behavior.

Iris is incapable of guilt, remorse or empathy.

It wasn't a choice she could make; it was simply a neurodivergence she couldn't control.

I can't be one to judge. I wasn't much different when I lived as Amelia.

I grew up exhibiting anti-social behaviors. Never understanding why one had to apologize, never understanding why people had the emotional responds they did, never understanding why people felt so strongly, becoming annoyed with those who felt too much and too deeply.

But, in my defense, I had morals.

I tried my entire life to relate to others; every day, I tried hard to empathize within my capabilities. 

But I didn't become that way on my own. 

I strived to become more gracious, understanding, and empathetic because others taught me to be someone of that caliber. Even though I could never understand, I spent my entire life showing kindness and grace in the ways I was capable.

But Iris never had someone who loved her unconditionally like I did when I was Amelia.

Iris was a lonely child who knew nothing but survival, and the only way she could survive was by becoming worse than the enemy that threatened her.

Coupled with her inclination for violence and inability to empathize, Iris was a cruel horror worthy of being a tyrannical madman's only child.

Truthfully, if blame had to be placed, the only people I truly blamed in this circus were the ring leader and circus master because they had a choice, yet they still decided to play the roles of rodeo clowns.

But what confused me was the fact the duke named me.

He'd spouted some standard nonsense in the novel and sent her on her way. He had nothing to do with Iris from that moment on. Iris actually never saw his pitifully pretty face until she turned eight when he passed her in the hallway after their initial meeting. His disinterest and Sienna's increasingly cruel treatment became the catalyst that sparked Iris's petulant rampage.

Actually.

The novel had already deviated since the moment I arrived.

The duke has met with me twice now—not once. He called for me the moment I arrived and called me again to his office today. On top of that, he uncharacteristically gave me a middle name and recognized me as his heir and child. 

What the....

How am I only now just noticing? How has the story started changing already? 

None of this made sense. 

I haven't done anything; I've simply existed up to this point. I haven't even started scheming with my OP knowledge of the future yet!

Does this mean I lose my only advantage? Will I be unable to keep my head by manipulating the future and skirting my misfortunes? Or does this mean the story is about to change entirely? Does this mean I'll end up in a happy new genre? Maybe a sunny new plot altogether? Will I now become the female protagonist and live happily ever after without doing any work? Does that mean I need to play obliviously stupid to everything and pretend I don't realize the male lead has fallen deeply in love with me and try my best to stick to the original plot?

Or does this mean I'm just...

F—