The Truth Will be Revealed

Snow pressed against the window of my room in soft waves, but the sight only deepened the ache that had settled into my heart. The world outside kept moving, crisp and beautiful, while mine felt like it was collapsing internally. My chest was hollow, my hands numb as I sat hunched over the desk, the faint glow of the lamp painting circles on half-written notes. I couldn’t even bring myself to finish them, much less when my hand kept phasing through. The words blurred every time I tried to read, and the more I forced myself, the more the ink smudged under my shaking hands.

It had been days since that fight. Days since Estel had looked at me with suspicion and doubt,instead of trust. He had chosen Historia over me. And while I couldn't blame him for doubting my words, it still hurt. He avoids me in class now, as if even meeting my eyes would unravel him. I felt it every time, the way his back turned just slightly. The way he walked over to Darren and Historia’s side instead. He laughed politely at her jokes, nodded at her every word, and I swore she leaned closer to him than ever before. Her smiles were shamelessly smug now. They were less rehearsed, like she no longer felt the need to hide what she thought of me. She smirked so openly when the boys were not looking, her gaze cutting me down in silence. And every time she did, it was like a knife twisting in my chest. She knew she won.

The whispers in the Academy halls only grew worse. My classmates looked at me differently, murmuring about how I seemed distracted, unfocused. Word of me being separate from Historia and the other two spread like a wildfire. They were right though, my grades slipped so much that the professors took me aside. Their tones are sharp but not unkind. “Rosaria..” they would tell me, “You seem to be losing your footing. Your work has dropped below even passable standards.”

With the winter break approaching, even the director suggested it would be best for me to return home and rest. He said the Academy could not risk one of its students collapsing under stress during such an important season, not with the ceremony coming.

The ceremony. Historia’s grand debut as the next Saintess.

The thought of it made my stomach churn. She’s going to stand before the court, praised and adored, the golden figure of salvation and sainthood. Everyone would believe her unconditionally. They would kneel to her, worship her. While I, the true daughter of the Saintess, could only watch from the shadows. My lips sown shut by lies I as an outsider could not unravel.

When I returned to the Drewitt estate, the silence in the car felt suffocating. My reflection in the window looked pale and hollow, like even Rosaria’s body I was trapped in had begun to waste away with me. I felt like the old Rose at that moment. Like Evergreen, not Drewitt, or Romancio or whatever kind of Rose I had to be. I felt utterly hopeless. And the grey clouds above felt like they shared that sentiment with me.

The moment I stepped through the doors, Baron Drewitt was there. His eyes, warm and steady, widened with worry as he took in my state. I most likely looked worse for wear to them.. The Baroness rushed in behind him, her hand flying to her mouth as she gasped. Even Allen and Harry abandoned their usual composure to crowd me. They were all speaking at once.

“What happened to you, Rosaria?”

“Are you ill?”

“Sister, you’re thinner than when you left!”

“Your eyes are red, have you been crying? Who made you cry?!”

Their voices pressed in, overwhelming, until finally the Baron raised his hand. His tone was steady, but sharp with barely-contained anger. “Enough. Let’s get her inside. She will speak when she feels like it. Come in dear, Let’s get you all comfortable..”

We went inside the manor. The heat of the magic warming the house felt nice, and even more so when Allen and Harry sat next to me, keeping me all warm and snuggly. Frankly. It felt comforting amidst the chaos going on in my brain. When the servants brought in my favorite warm chocolate and peanut chocolate cookies. I felt like the whole world could disappear in that moment from the pure serotonin from the sugar rush I so desperately needed.

After a few cookies, however, I swallowed hard. My throat was raw… and the words spilled before I could hold them. “It’s Estel… And Historia.”

The room fell quiet.

I told them everything. About how Estel had begun avoiding me because of the doubt of my saintess powers, and my words…, about how Historia’s smirks followed me wherever I turned. I told them about the incident in the field, about how Historia had used her powers and was already building her reputation as a Saintess. I told them how my classmates whispered, how my work was slipping, and how even the professors had sent me home. By the end, my voice was hoarse, trembling with a mixture of anger and grief.

The Baron’s expression darkened with every word. His jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. The Baron was usually a gentle and kind man, I was almost terrified seeing the pure, unadulterated rage on his face.

“They dared do this to you?” His voice was low, trembling with a fury I had never heard from him. “Estel, who you have stood by all your life, abandons you so easily? And that girl, that Historia, dares parade around as a Saintess when the true Saintess’s daughter stands right here? The same one we praised for being your friend so unconditionally, only to backstab the Drewitt’s kindness like this?!”

“Father…” I whispered, my voice shaking.

“No more,” he snapped, though his anger was not directed at me. He began to pace, his arms crossed against his chest as he looked at all of us.. “I will not stand by and watch you waste away while she climbs to the heavens on false wings. And I will not betray the king any longer. He deserves to know the truth.”

The Baroness stepped forward quickly, her face tight with worry. “You can’t mean you’ll-”

“I do,” the Baron cut in sharply. His voice echoed in the hall, final and resolute. “At the ceremony, I will reveal everything. Rosaria is the king’s daughter, the Saintess’s daughter. I will not allow this charade to continue. I cannot stand by while my dearest friend mourns a daughter he thinks is dead, and while the girl I have raised as my own is crushed beneath falsehoods and condemnation by a delusional girl who called herself a friend.”

“Father, that’s dangerous,” Allen said quietly. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, his expression grim. “You know the queen won't let such a revelation go unchallenged. If you speak out, she will act against all of us!”

“Then let her,” the Baron replied. His eyes burned with conviction. “I’m not afraid of her schemes any longer. If she dares move against me, against us, then let the court see her for what she is. A woman so jealous she would send assassins to kill an innocent child. A child blessed by the goddess. I have kept this secret out of loyalty, out of fear of what would become of Rosaria if the truth was known. But look at her now! Look at what hiding has done! My daughter deserves to live. To be happy. Not to waste away in misery while some fraudulent harpy takes her place.”

My chest felt tight. Hearing him say those words, claiming me so firmly, calling me his daughter… I couldn’t stop the tears that welled in my eyes. I felt so undeserving of all their trust, their unconditional love, and kindness.

“But Father…” My voice cracked. “If you do this, everything will change. The king, the court, everyone will know. The queen will not let me live peacefully. She already tried to kill me once-”

“Which is all the more reason to stop hiding,” he interrupted, his tone softening as he turned back to me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, his gaze steady. “Rosaria, you are not meant to live in the shadows. You are not meant to suffer in silence while others take what is yours by birthright. I cannot watch you destroy yourself. I will not permit you to do so when you have done nothing but prove what a wonderful person you are.”

The Baroness’s lips trembled. She reached for his arm, her voice hushed. “But if you reveal it now, the danger will double. The queen will not hesitate, and Historia…”

“Historia is nothing,” the Baron spat, his anger flashing again. “I’ve seen her so-called ‘Saintess Power’, and I can’t believe people believe it to be a blessing from the Goddess Amor.”

My attention immediately perked up. Goddess? Amor? They can't be talking about that same Amor… right? She's an author. Not a goddess…

“And when the truth of Rosaria is revealed, the world will see it for what it is. The king will see. And no one, not even Historia, will take what belongs to my daughter.” he continued.

The room went silent after that. The fire crackled in the hearth, and the snow beat softly against the glass. My tears fell freely now, my heart torn between fear and relief. Fear of what the queen might do, fear of what Historia might do as a result… but relief that at least one person… multiple people believed me. That at least someone was willing to fight for me.

I nodded weakly, wiping my eyes with trembling fingers. “Thank you… Father.”

His gaze softened, his hand tightening reassuringly on my shoulder. “You need not thank me, Dear. I only regret not doing it sooner. Rest tonight, Rosaria. Gather your strength. Whatever comes, we will face it together. And I promise you, you will not be alone.”

Dinner that night felt heavier than usual, even with the warmth of the fire and the familiar smells of roasted duck and herbs drifting through the hall. The servants had laid the table beautifully, silver and crystal gleaming in the candlelight, but I could hardly taste anything. My mind kept spinning with Baron Drewitt’s declaration earlier. The way his voice had thundered in the room, full of conviction and determination. He truly meant to reveal everything at the ceremony, even if it meant at the cost of the Drewitt’s reputation.

I stared down at my plate, the spoon trembling in my hand. My reflection warped in the polished silver, Rosaria’s worn face staring back at me. The weight in my chest pressed harder, and before I even realized it, the secrets I had kept spilled out loud..

“There is something I need to tell you all,” I said quietly and, somewhat formally. My voice felt too small in the grand room, but it carried enough to draw every eye to me.

Allen looked up first, frowning. “What is it, Rosaria? What's with the sudden formality?”

I gripped the spoon tighter, trying to steady myself. But then, right before my eyes, my fingers slipped through the metal. Not around it. Through it. The spoon clattered to the plate, yet my hand had never even touched it properly. For a second I froze, the air leaving my lungs.

Allen was the first to react. His chair scraped sharply against the floor as he stood, his face pale. “Father! Her hand-!”

The Baron’s head whipped toward me, his brows furrowed. The Baroness gasped softly, clutching her napkin to her chest. Harry sat rigid, his eyes wide as the flicker of the candles reflected in them.

I couldn’t run from it anymore. It seemed the longer I remained… The worst this situation was going to get. I pressed my trembling hands flat to the table, forcing myself to speak. “I am not who you think I am. I am not Rosaria Drewitt. I am not Rosaria Romancio either. Frankly…. I don’t even belong here.”

Silence blanketed the room. Everyone seemed confused. My throat burned, but I pushed forward before anyone could get a word in. “My name is Rose Evergreen. I was never supposed to be in this world at all. I came from another one… a different life. Much more modern than this world. Monarchy isn't even a thing in my world, or at least, where I lived.”

I felt my chest tighten, as if to wring my neck to asphyxiation. To prevent them from knowing more than they should. “I lived as a normal girl. I had friends, a home, everything. And then… There was an accident. A car accident. I woke up here, in this body, right after Rosaria had been in a coma for a few days at the estate. I never understood how, but I think… I think I replaced her.”

The Baroness’s lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears. Harry’s chair creaked as he shifted, his knuckles white against the table. Allen’s face was pale as parchment, disbelief and horror flickering in his eyes.

“You mean…” Allen’s voice cracked. “Our Rosaria… she is gone?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “I don’t know what happened to her. I don’t know if she was pushed aside inside this body’s consciousness, or… or if she is gone forever. And that terrifies me more than anything. I can’t give you the daughter you lost. I can only be me… I’m sorry…”

The words spilled into the heavy air, choking me as hot tears slid down my cheeks. “I am so sorry. I never wanted to lie to you. I tried to be her, to live as her, because I thought it would hurt you less than the truth. But I can’t keep pretending. Not when… not when my body is already starting to reject me. I don’t even know how long I can stay here before I disappear completely. Or if I’ll even return back to my home.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The silence felt like it would swallow me whole. Their judgements… perhaps, claim me a monster for stealing their daughter. Then the Baron rose from his seat, his chair scraping back hard against the wooden floor. He moved to me in three strides and pulled me up into his arms. His grip was tight, steady, grounding me even as I felt myself sob into his shoulder. His hug, ever the warmest I’ve felt since Estel's heartbreaking words.

“You foolish girl,” he whispered, his voice trembling despite its strength. “Do you think for one moment that changes how I see you? You are my daughter, Rose. I do not care where you came from. I do not care what body you wear. You have lived here, with us. You have shared our burdens, our joys, our pains. That is enough. You are enough.”

The Baroness was crying openly now, rising to her feet to cup my face once my father released me. Her hands were soft, trembling as they brushed away my tears. “We noticed, you know. We noticed you seemed different. Your habits, your words, the way you carry yourself. But we thought it was just you growing, changing after all you endured. We never stopped loving you, Rosaria, Rose, whoever you are. You are ours. It is not your fault you woke up as Rosaria. You must have been awfully frightened in a new environment with no clue where or how you got here.”

Harry stood, his eyes wet, and Allen lowered his head into his hand, his jaw clenched as if to keep from crying himself.

“You should have told us sooner, you dumb girl” Harry said thickly, his voice cracking. “But I can’t hate you for it. You must have been so afraid. You still treated us like brothers…. That makes you our sister. Always.”

Allen finally looked up, his expression twisted with grief and resolve. “You were the one who shared kindness despite the fear you must have felt. You were the one who kept us together. I don’t care if your name is Rose Evergreen or Rosaria Romancio or Rosaria Drewitt. You are family. Our sister for life.”

Their words broke something in me. I collapsed into more sobs, my shoulders shaking as Sylvia and Amanda’s faces flashed in my mind, my old world blending into this one until I could hardly tell where one ended and the other began. I didn’t deserve this kind of love, not when I was an impostor, a thief of someone else’s life. Yet here they were, holding me together, refusing to let me fall apart. They could have abandoned me. They could have yelled at me for stealing their daughter's place. And yet, here they were, giving this imposter all the unconditional love and care anyone as greedy as I was could ever want.

We sat like that for what felt like hours. The food went cold, forgotten and abandoned. The fire burned low, shadows stretching across the hall as night crept deeper outside.

When the silence finally lifted, the Baron straightened, his expression grim once more his eyes red from crying with everyone else. “Then we must prepare for what is coming. Historia, that girl…. If she is already using her powers so openly, then she will not hesitate to paint herself as the Saintess before the kingdom. And if the queen supports her…”

“She will,” the Baroness whispered. “Since she believes that the King's daughter is dead, she will want her son Darren to do the same as the king has and tie the so-called saintess for more political power. She is a greedy woman that craves for more power, directly or indirectly.”

“Then we strike back with truth,” the Baron said firmly. His gaze swept across us, his family. “At the ceremony, I will reveal Rosaria’s bloodline. I will reveal that she is the king’s daughter. Historia may play at being a savior, but the truth will not stay buried forever. It's about time I return my friend's daughter to him. I have been too selfish a man to steal him of all his fatherly rights for so long.”

“Father,” I whispered, my voice raw. “If you do this, you put yourself at risk. You put us all at risk.”

His eyes softened as he looked at me, but his resolve didn’t waver. “I would rather die telling the truth than live watching you suffer another moment of injustice. I will not allow lies to steal your happiness, dear.”

The Baroness reached for his hand, nodding despite her fear. Harry and Allen both tightened their fists, determination sparking in their eyes. For the first time in weeks, we were united again, bound by truth instead of silence.

Later that night, after the plates had been cleared and the fire burned low, we parted for bed. My body was heavy as I lay beneath the canopy of my bed, but my mind refused to rest. The truth was out. They knew who I was, and they still loved me. That should have brought comfort.

…

Yet dread pressed harder than ever.

The ceremony loomed ahead, dark and ominous. Like a shadow growing across the horizon. I could feel it in my bones, a warning that no matter what we revealed, Historia was not done yet. And the thought of what was coming chilled me more than the winter outside.

…

Something in me sang, like a wallowing melody that if we didn’t act appropriately, this might be the end.