Behold, I bring fic!
So... we all know that von Karma has another daughter. (And a seven year old Granddaughter, but that's really not important to the story.) So this ficlet is about her. Around when her mother died. All of this is baseless conjecture, but this was a plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. So I wrote it. Enjoy.
Title: Final Arrangements
Fandom: Phoenix Wright
Rating: PG
Archive: Ask and ye shall be as gods receive
Warning: Baseless conjecture, writing about a character who never appears in canon
Spoilers: None
Sophia was her mother's daughter, but she had enough of her father in her to clash heads with him every time they saw each other. Which might have been why she, out of everyone in her family that was old enough to attend, was the only one not clad completely in black for her mother's funeral.
Or viewings. Her father had already made at least three remarks about the inappropriateness of the wine-red blouse that she was wearing. She figured that meant that she was doing something right. After all, her mother wouldn't have wanted everyone moping about in black like it was the end of the world. But she would have wanted everything to be done properly. The von Karmas were Catholic, after all.
And that, perhaps, was why her father had called her when her mother had passed away. Because someone needed to make the arrangements. Not the legal arrangements, oh no. Her father wouldn't let anyone else touch those. However, someone needed to make all the arrangements for a proper (read: depressing) Catholic funeral. Which meant it fell to Sophia to arrange the funeral, pick the readings and hymns, arrange the viewings, book both the church and the restaurant for the gathering after the funeral, and make sure that arrangements were made for someone to watch her newborn baby sister. Besides, it wasn't as if Manfred von Karma had clue one as to what his wife would want to be buried in.
In the end, Sophia thought that it was simply because her father needed someone to focus on the more emotional side of things, so that he could stay focused on the legal side of things and keep himself together. And so he had called her, even though their relationship could be described at best as strained over the last few years. But then, strained was the best she could have hoped for after he had almost disowned her for marrying a defense attorney. Only her mother's intervention had stopped that. And really, to this day, Sophia still wasn't sure if her father had been so angry because Daniel was a defense attorney, or because she said she was going to marry him regardless of whether he approved or not.
And now? Now she had been thrust into the role of grieving hostess whether she liked it or not. And she was grieving. For her mother, and for her father as well. Just because she knew that he wouldn't show any outward signs of his grief. And perhaps that was the thing that bothered her the most about this entire thing. After all, in a world where everything was supposed to be perfect, there was no time to be overcome by emotions. But then, her father had never explained to her how perfection could help you not react when you lost the love of your life. Not that her father ever actually called her mother that, but Sophia knew.
It wasn't until the end of the last viewing, after the last of the people had been ushered out, that her father spoke to her about something aside from the inappropriate color of her blouse. There had been more people come by to pay their respects than she had ever expected. That was what struck Sophia as she looked through the book of names that the visitors (because really, she doubted that all of the people could really be called mourners) had signed their names in. Some people, like Mr. Payne from the Prosecutor's office, had been expected presences. Others definitely had not. Some of Daniel's colleagues had come, and Sophia wondered if they'd come to pay their respects or in the hopes of seeing the Demon God Prosecutor fall apart. In fact, her eyes had just skimmed across the semi-familiar name of Gregory Edgeworth, when her father's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
"Sophia."
The young woman turned from the book to face her father, waiting for him to continue.
"Your mother... she looks perfect, Sophia."
Perhaps it was his way of saying thank you, but perfect or not, it made Sophia angry. Not to mention that it masked a truth that her father not only needed to acknowledge, but also needed to hear.
"She looks dead, Papa," Sophia countered, her voice laden with a flat finality.
And really, a statement like that coming from Sophia proved one thing: that on some level, she was her father's daughter, after all.
Title: Final Arrangements
Fandom: Phoenix Wright
Rating: PG
Archive: Ask and ye shall be as gods receive
Warning: Baseless conjecture, writing about a character who never appears in canon
Spoilers: None
Sophia was her mother's daughter, but she had enough of her father in her to clash heads with him every time they saw each other. Which might have been why she, out of everyone in her family that was old enough to attend, was the only one not clad completely in black for her mother's funeral.
Or viewings. Her father had already made at least three remarks about the inappropriateness of the wine-red blouse that she was wearing. She figured that meant that she was doing something right. After all, her mother wouldn't have wanted everyone moping about in black like it was the end of the world. But she would have wanted everything to be done properly. The von Karmas were Catholic, after all.
And that, perhaps, was why her father had called her when her mother had passed away. Because someone needed to make the arrangements. Not the legal arrangements, oh no. Her father wouldn't let anyone else touch those. However, someone needed to make all the arrangements for a proper (read: depressing) Catholic funeral. Which meant it fell to Sophia to arrange the funeral, pick the readings and hymns, arrange the viewings, book both the church and the restaurant for the gathering after the funeral, and make sure that arrangements were made for someone to watch her newborn baby sister. Besides, it wasn't as if Manfred von Karma had clue one as to what his wife would want to be buried in.
In the end, Sophia thought that it was simply because her father needed someone to focus on the more emotional side of things, so that he could stay focused on the legal side of things and keep himself together. And so he had called her, even though their relationship could be described at best as strained over the last few years. But then, strained was the best she could have hoped for after he had almost disowned her for marrying a defense attorney. Only her mother's intervention had stopped that. And really, to this day, Sophia still wasn't sure if her father had been so angry because Daniel was a defense attorney, or because she said she was going to marry him regardless of whether he approved or not.
And now? Now she had been thrust into the role of grieving hostess whether she liked it or not. And she was grieving. For her mother, and for her father as well. Just because she knew that he wouldn't show any outward signs of his grief. And perhaps that was the thing that bothered her the most about this entire thing. After all, in a world where everything was supposed to be perfect, there was no time to be overcome by emotions. But then, her father had never explained to her how perfection could help you not react when you lost the love of your life. Not that her father ever actually called her mother that, but Sophia knew.
It wasn't until the end of the last viewing, after the last of the people had been ushered out, that her father spoke to her about something aside from the inappropriate color of her blouse. There had been more people come by to pay their respects than she had ever expected. That was what struck Sophia as she looked through the book of names that the visitors (because really, she doubted that all of the people could really be called mourners) had signed their names in. Some people, like Mr. Payne from the Prosecutor's office, had been expected presences. Others definitely had not. Some of Daniel's colleagues had come, and Sophia wondered if they'd come to pay their respects or in the hopes of seeing the Demon God Prosecutor fall apart. In fact, her eyes had just skimmed across the semi-familiar name of Gregory Edgeworth, when her father's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
"Sophia."
The young woman turned from the book to face her father, waiting for him to continue.
"Your mother... she looks perfect, Sophia."
Perhaps it was his way of saying thank you, but perfect or not, it made Sophia angry. Not to mention that it masked a truth that her father not only needed to acknowledge, but also needed to hear.
"She looks dead, Papa," Sophia countered, her voice laden with a flat finality.
And really, a statement like that coming from Sophia proved one thing: that on some level, she was her father's daughter, after all.