Terrible Things

[GloriaPreussens 798]

 

 

Black was a color all too common these days, adorned in black armor, wearing black trousers, hands clad in thick black leather gloves, and a cloak of black. He was in mourning, but not for anyone’s death, but a departure still. His oldest son was six years, he’d never have his father there as little Robert swung his first real sword, or rode a horse as masterfully as his pop, but he’d do good. The only man he’d ever been able to call brother in the end was Stephen, and their conversations were far and fewer between as both were called away from war and to the duties of peace, but Stephen was be a better guardian than he’d ever be a father himself. A heavy sigh, he spurned his horse forward, a dark beast, but beautiful, ever calm even in the face of certain death.

 

The twins as well, Thomas and his sister, beautiful children really, the thought made him smile, one that quickly urged him to shut his eyes, stopping his horse as he fought a losing battle against tears which did stream down his cheeks from once-grey eyes, down features ever-still against the sands of time, as men withered and died, family came and gone. With a shake of his head, he drug the back of his gloved hand over his cheeks, his throat hurt from the choking he did, just barely able to suppress open weeping over a pain he could not describe.

 

Heart heavy, he rode forward in the cool night of summer through the roads he once built and later defended, past homes of sleepy citizens he once bleed and then toiled with, a merciless soldier whose sins were ignored. A look back over his shoulder, the dim flickering lights of his home distant, where his once-loved wife had resided, where once he’d been able to be happy, but that was not a life he could have anymore, his choices made sure life could never be the same. He could not be with them, but he could protect from afar, he’d done many evil things in his life, from killing men in the field to hanging them, been guilty of vainglory and wrath, but those were footnotes now.

 

It continued in a heavy clip clop among flagstones no longer maintained in his absence, and overgrown, the sad state of his land seemed to desire not but to consume all he built and forget him, nature itself trying to erase him from memory, but this was no different from the nature of mortals. His armor was hung up his room, warhammer and sword at the table to be passed to his son, wearing now only a dark chainmail coat under riding clothes, and head bare of circlet.

 

Hours it seemed he’d been riding but it didn’t matter, as the man neared the border of his realm he let free a heavy sigh, turning back one last time, the dim flicker of his home barely visible, he smiled and let tears run free down his cheeks. He’d done terrible things for the ones he loved, things they’d never know or understand, but sacrifices must be made, even at the damnation of one’s own soul. Shutting his eyes once, his mind turned to the sweet face of his wife, never to be seen again, the bright eyes of his son Robert who’d grow to be a strong Prince, to Thomas and his twin sister, steadfast and full of life. For them, he’d do anything, no matter how far it would take him, and he had. Exhaling slowly, Prince Frederick Augustus of the House of Horen-Preussen, Prince in Pruvia, Duke of Ostland and titles too tiresome to list off, turned back around and rode out, lost into the annals of history.

 

Spoiler

An OOC note:

Just wanted to give a little closure, no loose ends and all. To those I didn't get to say goodbye to yet, well, goodbye and I wish the best. It's not my best piece of work but it was a good departure.

 

 

[Tibertastic 107]

peace out *dab* *dab* lius maximus