Sigismund III

[Xarkly 12614]

SIGISMUND III

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

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Sigismund laid back on the riverbank.

 

The late-winter wind of Gronna and Droba gusted behind him, stirring the line of bare-branched spruces and towering evergreens behind him. Despite the season, the banks of the Staal Eada near the foot of Mondstadt and in view of the Karosgrad bay had been spared from snow. The sun had even appeared today, hanging low in the evening sky, and bathed the world in a pale gold as the last of its light fractured through the branches of the trees behind him.

 

As the waters of the Staal Eada gushed softly just a few feet away, Georgi - the corgi that had been gifted to him and Emma at their wedding - nuzzled up to his size for warmth. With a sigh, Sigismund stared up at the darkening sky as he idly stroked the dog. His skin prickled with each swell of the gentle and bitter wind, but Sigismund was quite content to just lie there, even as he shivered. 

 

He had laid there for what must have been hours, now, and he wished he could stay for hours more. Days, even. As long as I need to … get ready, he thought to himself for the umpteenth time, even though he knew that he would never be ready. He knew that the second he rode back into Karosgrad, the moment he was surrounded by crimson walls and black-gold banners, it was over.

 

When that moment came, when he left this spot, Sigismund Karl would cease to exist, and King Sigismund III would stand in his place.

 

He sucked in the icy air, and exhaled a misty sigh. “Do you want to stay here forever, Georgi?” he murmured, tilting his head to the young corgi, who in turn stared back with innocent, beady eyes. “Wouldn’t that be nice?” He smiled weakly as he scratched behind the dog’s ears, but the corgi only went pack to nuzzling Sigismund’s side obliviously. 

 

“Well, maybe not for you …” the prince went on as his eyes drifted back to the evening sky. “Nice for me, though.” He watched as a pack of gulls, cawing noisily, flew overhead towards the Karosgrad harbour. “I’m not afraid, you know,” he told Georgi half-heartedly. “I’m not. I just … I just don’t want to become that person yet.” 

 

When Georgi suddenly left his side with a yap, Sigismund propped himself up on his elbow to watch as the corgi bounced excitedly at the foot of the riverbank, barking at a pack of swans crossing water as the river glistened a burnished orange in the sunset. He sighed again, and felt tears tug at the corner of his vision.

 

Why is this so rotting hard? He had been through this mental ordeal for what felt like every week since he was old enough to comprehend what it meant to be heir to a kingdom, and then every day since he had married Emma. He had known this time had been coming for years, now, and he had thought he had prepared himself for the moment where he would have to … let go. 

 

He slumped back down on the frosted grass. Just once more, he wished he could be around those he loved without the looming shadow of what the future held.

 

 He wished he could sit and laugh with Kaustantin at his latest mishaps; he wished he could steal away in the kitchens of Jerovitz to talk about crabs and magic with Emma; he wished he could have one last moment of tenderness with Eleanora and forget about the reality that life had forced on them; he wished Molia would forgive him, and return to speak to him with her filterless tongue; he wished he could see Alice again, and see what became of her, and whether she had changed; he wished he could tease Anastasya and Eirik once more; he wished he could make sure Yvo was doing everything in his power to be the perfect husband to Petra, and he wished Petra was here now to comfort him; he wished he was back in the Karosgrad Tavern, issuing a royal decree to keep Johann from going back to gate-keeping; he wished he could see the latest spot of trouble Marus had caused for his mother; he wished he could taste Mariya’s baking again, and push her to be braver; and he wished Uncle Nikolas could take him to parties as a clueless boy once more.

 

He wished he could be Sigismund Karl for just a little while longer.

 

He closed his eyes on budding tears. No point in wishful thinking. Besides, it was for all those people that he was to undergo this duty. He might not be the one to laugh, or tease, or dance anymore, but it had fallen to him to be the one to make sure that others could -- that others could live in a kingdom where they could do all those things, and more. 

 

He opened his eyes, and stared through a teary veil at the golden sky above. He could hear the swans crooning in the river as Georgi continued to bark at them, the dulcet gush of the Staal Eada as it lapped against the riverbank, and the creak of the trees in the wind behind him.

 

“Well … it was fun while it lasted.”

 

Spoiler

 

 

The grass crunched beneath him as he pushed himself upright, and his cloak stirred in the gust of the wind. “Come on, Georgi,” he called to the dog, and was surprised by how level his tone was despite the tears running down his cheek. “Time to go, boy! C’mere!” 

 

The corgi turned his head to Sigismund in surprise as the prince pat his knees, and gave the swans one last look before he lumbered back up the riverbank. “Good boy!” Sigismund cooed as he scratched the dog’s neck. “Good boy. Come on, it’s …” His voice suddenly grew thick as a lump formed in his throat. He had to force the next words out.

 

“ … its time to go.” Sigismund Karl gave the corgi one last smile.

 

Sigismund III turned, then, and began to walk back towards the city. 

 

[UnBaed 8946]

Moliana couldn't find her canteen.

 

"Where is it. . ?  BOOKER- Did you take my canteen again?" The young woman scowled to herself as she tossed her various trinkets out from the drawer of her nightstand, making an utter mess of her room behind her.  She had little care for that right now.  "I rested it right here just yesterday!  Or rather. . . I THINK that's what I did." The Carrion girl scratched her head and frowned in puzzlement, then tore out the first drawer to begin looking through the second.

 

As she sifted through the various junk she collected in her travels, which were a variety of cheap trinkets of small towns and hamlets; cool rocks and feathers found on the roadside; some sea shells; old or unfinished maps of her design (poorly made). . . Yet a small roll of paper caught her large and cool eyes.

 

Her pale hand reached to free the parchment from the corner, frowning as she recalled what it was; a summons to Hanseti-Ruska by Sigismund.  Hands touching, a warm embrace.  The sudden memory made her drop the scroll, it gracefully fell back into the drawer - which she kicked shut.

 

Moliana stood frozen for a moment and wrung her hands together, frowning pensively as her heart and mind were drawn back toward that aching past.  "It could never be reached again."

 

She turned sharply, her remorseful look hardened as she forced the memory from her thoughts to continue her search.  That drawer would not be touched again. 

[Herod 802]

A pale and malnourished man sat in his office, he looked at the Edict of Abdication and emitted a sigh. "The mantle, the crown and the sceptre may be heavy, but do niet fall down like vyr namesake, mea friend." 

[giambro 611]

"I remember when we were just children and now vy are finally taking that big step. . ." Remarked the Knight Paramount, he smirked at the missive and continued his writing in his journal, "I will be with vy until my dying days my liege," he slowly arched up his head, viewing at his family's portrait.

[crazedpudding 2120]

A young mother sat beside a fire, staring into the flames as she recalled times of innocence and youth, the Edict of Abdication clutched in a pale fist. Gazing into the burning coals as if they held the answers she sought so often, Eleanora Amador brought a hand to the necklace of silver pearls she always kept close to her person. "Time can be so cruel...", the Viscountess took a shuddering breath as her heart squeezed. With a final effort, Eleanora shook the specters of the past from her mind and settled a hand on her growing abdomen, brilliant flames reflecting in her pale blue eyes.

[Mady 3037]

"He'll do great things.." The Queen-Mother murmured to herself, a proud smile resting on her lips as she watched her son make his way back to his room as she did almost every night. 

[sarahbarah 5015]

Petra could only watch on from the sidelines, smiling at her younger brother Sigismund with pride and joy nevertheless.

 

In her eyes, he would always be Sigismund Karl, of course - the silly brother she always adored.

 

Whilst she cradled her newborn son, she turned her gaze to him and spoke tenderly now. "Vyr aedypapej is becoming Koeng. How proud we are, Sigmar," she'd hum. 

[Capt_Chief26 1205]

R

[Totalitarianism_ 478]

"Just as his namesake, let King Sigismund III be wise and just." Ser Casimir Colborn commented, hearing of the abdication from the comfort of his secluded (and totally heterosexual) bath house.