A RDNA-verse Tale: Part 5

The Personal Records of a Doctor

8 March 1934
More progress being made. Resumed treatment Tuesday morning. Visible outbreaks becoming increasingly rare. Considered altering the dosage. Need to speed up recovery. She agreed. Helped that she's doing her share of the effort. Her self-control still astounds me. Even stronger now. Had to keep reminding myself. She's not like most patients. No, any patient. Yet at this rate, there's a good chance. Only a chance. That this may actually work. For her own good. For all of us.

Thought came up lately. It's been years since the Terror. Katherine, Wilhelm and Jacques were with the Convoy [1]. Was tending to some new arrivals when the news came. Still hard coping with their loss. Cousins, in-laws. Many others didn't make it either. Bridget had been lucky. Some of her friends and relatives managed to reach one of the last ships. Yet the pain didn't diminish. We weren't the only ones. Lovers, penmates, business associates, friends, family members. Just about everyone lost something or someone. While the Reds live on as a constant danger to what's left.

Waking up everyday, knowing that they're doing their damn worst at finishing the job. Knowing that the ones after us would be born into the same mess. Holding onto a severed legacy while fending off the bastards. Such thoughts can drive some men to the brink. What then of a Nation that has to bear all this? Haven't even gotten to whatever personal trauma she witnessed. In some timeframe outlasting even the sharpest old man. Those horrors lasted several years [2]. Must have been a blink of the eye for her. And for the remaining ones, I'm sure. Or not. Don't really know. Still find this hard to grasp.

Asked about her parents over tea earlier. She spoke with difficulty. Hard restraint. Yet a small smile stayed. Told me little. Understandable. Edelstein-Hedervary [3] was their last name. They were close. As much a part of the Dynasty as it was to them. Many cherished memories. She was on the verge of breaking down. Didn't ask further. Quietly brought her the dosages. Still too soon. Perhaps when she's finally recovered. But it's only a chance. I'm willing to take it.

[1] Likely referring to his two siblings, and close friend, respectively. They were last seen in 1926 outside Hamburg with the infamous Doomed Convoy, a group of mainly Polish and Prussian refugees. The only known details of this convoy came through scattered military reports and refugee accounts.
[2] Historians generally point to 1922/23 as the beginning of the Terror. Though the signs were present long before, despite desperate efforts to stop them.
[3] It was also decided to leave this unedited as well. As a tangible link to the old Crownlands, the fact that this surname was retained is significant. -Ed.

10 March 1934
Decided to let her move more freely. Kept the dosages and monitoring. She wasn't allowed to leave the Residence's grounds at least. Otherwise, business as usual. Managed to go about with little further incident. So far so good. Already poised to be surpassing expectations. It's actually working. Thought so anyway. She still cries silently in sleep. Can't stop her from that. Have to keep watch in any case.

The family was relieved with the news. Not entirely. Clearly hoped for the best. But some hesitation stayed in their eyes. Seemed too good to be true, they suggested. Almost like her old self. Just not quite. His Majesty tried to explain. The Terror put unimaginable strain on her. Nearly drove her insane. And many others as well. That much I knew.

But combined with the turmoil that followed, it threatened to break her altogether. The riots, displacements, rations and all sorts of messes. Described how she was brought bound and lethally sedated to the Residence [1]. How her Kuban half-brother Francisco, had to be put down. Of severe outbreaks alternating with episodes of tired, forced calm. How she constantly struggled against the madness.

After all this. I can see why they find it unbelievable. Not in a place to talk back.

An old clergyman came by for supper, along with a few others. Looked Italian. Introduced himself as Monsignor Giovanni Vargas. A representative of the Holy See [2]. In more ways than one, I was sure. Seemed worn from the eyes. Yet a slight glimmer was there upon seeing her. Made a polite call. Assured him that she's doing well. He gave only a few blessings. Wished me luck. Had a knowing look on his face.

Didn't speak much after. Bridget kept the conversation going. He simply nodded, taking a few bites occasionally. Yet thought I heard something all throughout. Faint murmur. Recognized some of it. Swore some were bits from the Lament for the Lost [3]. Knew it was coming from him. Clearly holding back something. Seemed all the more tired. Must have been around since ancient Rome. Seen a lot perhaps. But nothing like any of this. Was that how he coped? Just how long will it take before recovery? Still haunted by what those answers might be.

[1] She was brought to the grounds soon after her return on Christmas 1927. The Residence itself was placed under heavy military watch for the next three years.
[2] At the time, the Vatican was temporarily lodged in RDNA territory.
[3] It was known to have been approved by then Pope Gregory XII in 1928. Most people, however, were unaware of its existence until it was formally revised and presented in 1936. -Ed.