Chapter 67-Lysandra and Elowen #2
"You were promised the right to name one child," Achille corrected. "Before we realized your judgment could not be trusted."
"My judgment is excellent."
"You suggested Elias Junior."
"It is timeless."
"They are girls."
"Names need not be restricted by gender ."
Veronica turned a page. "You also suggested Eliasette."
"That one had elegance."
"It sounded like a pastry."
"I like pastries."
Achille groaned and sat upright, lifting our daughter carefully from his stomach before settling her on his chest.
She immediately leaned against him, all earlier ambition disappearing as though the effort of tormenting his hair had exhausted her.
Her head rested beneath his chin. One tiny fist remained tangled in his shirt.
She usually resisted sleep unlike her sister that welcomed it like an old friend as though she considered it wasted time.
She grew increasingly frustrated, rubbed her eyes, fought anyone attempting to settle her, then collapsed against the nearest trusted body without warning.
Once held, she became entirely peaceful.
Unless Elias held her.
Then peace became impossible. Their feud had begun as a joke. I was no longer certain it remained one-sided.
Raven hardly ever cried without reason. Hunger. Discomfort. A wet cloth. Exhaustion. The need to be held. Once someone solved the issue, she stopped immediately. She could lie happily against nearly anyone permitted near her me, Achille, Veronica, Lillian everyone But Elias?
The moment he looked directly at her, her mouth opened.
Not always with tears.
Sometimes she simply yelled.
One sharp, offended sound.
Then, when he turned away, she cooed.
The first few times, we assumed coincidence.
By the tenth, Elias began keeping records.
When he held her, she reached for his hair and pulled until he apologized.
Not until he released her.
Until he said the word.
"Fine," he would mutter. "Im sorry."
Only then would she let go.
If he tried placing her down without apologizing, she held tighter. No one understood how she knew the difference.
Elias claimed the child had returned from another life specifically to punish him.
I privately suspected it might be possible.
The youngest twin was completely different.
She accepted the world as long as it remained warm and fed her regularly.
She laughed loudly, cried loudly, slept deeply, and approached every person with the assumption that they existed for her entertainment.
She loved feeding. Loved being held. Loved when Elias sang terribly beside her cradle.
She had only recently learned to roll over and reacted each time as though she had invented movement.
But the eldest seemed personally offended by nursing.
At first, I assumed she struggled to feed.
Then I thought perhaps positioning made her uncomfortable.
The physician checked everything and found nothing wrong.
She simply became increasingly displeased each time I offered.
Once she learned to turn her head properly, refusal became absolute.
She would press her lips together, look away, and release a frustrated sound until someone offered a bottle.
Then she drank happily.
I had wanted the closeness feeding created.
Our youngest gave me that easily.
Our eldest seem to despise the very idea.
It hurt briefly.
Then I understood that bonding did not need to resemble a picture painted by someone else. She smiled whenever I entered. Reached for me. Buried her face beneath my chin when tired. Followed my voice across rooms. She loved me.
She simply loved bottles too.
The child shifted against Achille chests and released a tired little sigh.
Elias pointed immediately.
"There. She is already exhausted by this conversation."
Achille looked at him. "She is exhausted by you."
"I have barely spoken."
"That has been the best part."
Veronica smiled without looking up from the documents.
I sighed again, louder this time.
Four heads turned toward me.
"We need names," I said.
Achille's expression became guarded.
Elias brightened.
Veronica closed the document in her lap.
"We have names," Achille said.
"No, we have pet names."
"Raven is a name."
"So is Songbird, technically," Elias added.
I looked at him.
He took another pastry.
"They require official names," I continued. "The court presentation is tomorrow. Their titles have to be entered into the imperial records before the ceremony. We cannot introduce them as Raven and Songbird."
"Why not?" Achille asked.
"Because one day a diplomat will have to address the future empress as Raven the First."
He considered it.
His mouth twitched.
"You find that amusing."
"A little."
"I refuse."
"We could present them as Baby One and Baby Two," I said. "The court already refers to them that way."
Veronica's brows rose. "That would certainly establish authority."
Elias nodded approvingly. "Empress Baby One has strength."
Achille glared at him. "Stop encouraging her."
"I support innovation."
"You support chaos."
"I find the distinction political."
I rubbed one hand over my forehead.
For six months, we had postponed the decision because nothing felt right. Achille rejected nearly every name.
Every name felt too heavy or too delicate. Too common. Too ceremonial. Too attached to someone our daughters had never known. Eventually Raven and Songbird settled into our mouths so naturally that the absence of official names stopped feeling urgent.
Until now.
"Well," Elias said, brushing crumbs from his coat, "I believe Elias Junior remains an excellent option."
Achille's eye closed.
"No."
"You promised."
"I promised you could suggest a name."
"You said choose."
"I was exhausted and emotionally unstable."
"That does not invalidate agreements."
"It does when the agreement creates Elias Junior."
I looked toward Elias. "If you stop speaking, I will name our son after you."
His entire face brightened.
Joy entered him so quickly that he nearly dropped the pastry plate.
Then he frowned.
Slowly.
"You are not planning to have more children."
I smiled.
"Exactly."
Silence.
Elias stared at me with betrayal. "That was cruel."
"I offered hope."
"You offered a fictional child."
"Perhaps luck will favor you."
"Luck has never favored me."
Achille looked down at Raven, his face twisted in disgust. "There will be no son named Elias."
Raven looked up at him.
He adjusted her against his chest. "Do not listen to them."
She babbled.
"I agree."
Elias pointed. "You see? You are poisoning her against me."
"She already dislikes you."
"She has no reason."
"She has instincts."
Veronica set the documents aside.
"Since none of you can behave like adults, may I make a suggestion?"
Achille looked toward her. "Please."
The speed of his agreement offended Elias. Veronica ignored him. She looked first at me. Then toward the child in Achille's arms.
"How about Lysandra?" Veronica's expression remained calm.
"Lysandra," she repeated. "For the eldest." My throat tightened before I understood why. I knew the name. Not from court records. Not from history. Somewhere older. Somewhere buried.
My mother.
The recognition came slowly, like something rising through deep water.
I had not heard her name spoken aloud in years.
Perhaps longer. In my memories, she had become Mama.
A laugh in the rain. Bare feet in mud. Warm hands.
Blood washed from skin beneath a storm. The woman existed so completely inside feeling that her name had faded around the edges.
Lysandra.
I looked at Veronica.
"How do you know my mother's name?"
She shrugged, though the movement carried none of her usual dismissal. "I asked your father."
The answer should have darkened the moment.
It did not.
Ezra had given me very little worth keeping. My mother's name belonged to her.
Not him.
I lowered my gaze.
Lysandra.
The name felt strange inside me.
Not wrong.
Unfamiliar in the way a childhood room might feel unfamiliar after years away, even while the body still knew where every piece of furniture once stood.
Achille looked toward me.
He said nothing.
He waited.
That mattered.
Veronica continued only when I lifted my eyes again.
"And Elowen for the younger one," she said. "After Achille's mother."
My gaze moved toward my husband.
His expression did not change immediately.
The child against him reached toward the loose edge of his collar, fingers opening and closing until he offered one of his own. She wrapped her hand around it.
Elowen.
I had heard the name before, though Achille rarely spoke it. His mother existed in pieces too. A woman lost behind a birthing-room door. Mourning bells. A father who left before grief finished speaking. The memory of her death shaped him more visibly than memories of her life.
"Lysandra and Elowen," Veronica said.
The names settled together.
One from Kyrian.
One from Elysium.
One belonging to the mother who taught me gentleness. One belonging to the mother whose death taught Achille fear. Both women denied futures they should have lived long enough to witness.
Their granddaughters would carry them forward. Achille's thumb moved slowly over Raven's tiny hand.
"I like them," he said.
His voice sounded quieter than before.
I searched his face.
"Would you not want the future queen to carry your mother's name?"
He shrugged.
"Either could become queen...Birthright makes her first," Achille said. "It does not guaranty her the crown ." He looked down at the girl sitting against him. "She will only inherit it if she earns it." Raven stared up at him with complete seriousness. Achille's mouth curved.
"If she cannot defeat me in combat when the time comes, then she is unqualified."
I stared.
"She is six months old."
"She has years to train...I believe she can do it but If her sister becomes more capable, then her sister will inherit. A crown is not a reward for leaving the womb first." Achille adjusted Raven on his chest, supporting her as she attempted to sit upright again.