Parting Words

[Xarkly 17299]

PARTING WORDS

 

Spoiler

 

 

---

 

 

The markings of winter fell softly around the grave of Annika Vyronov.

 

The snow, though bitter and deadly, fell softly like cottonspores, and the snow-laden branches of a circle of evergreens shielded it from the wind. The snow crunched gently under the boots of Sigismund as he approached, cowl drawn to mask his face, and he sank to his knees in front of the fresh-cut marble that bore the Queen Mother's name in proud golden inlay.

 

For a long moment, he just stared at the name of his mother -- the name of the woman that forged him, taught him, loved him. As the wind stirred his cloak, he rose a shaking hand that gripped a letter. He could not speak the words he needed to now -- not with her loss so recent -- and so he slowly placed the letter on the grave, and weighed it down with a stone.

 

Then, he simply sat, and stared at the grave. He knew no one would ever read that letter, and he could not conjure the strength to speak them. Yet he knew each word off by heart, and so he hoped - he prayed - that that was enough for it to reach her.

 

 

Mamej

 

Quite rude of you to just up and leave like that, don't you think? Had anyone done that to you, you'd have them by the ear.

 

Only that I doubt you wanted to leave so soon. Or, then again, maybe you did. After all, you're back with Petra and Marus, now. I'd pay any price to see them again -- to see Petra smile, to rest my head on her shoulder as she assured me everything would be alright. Sometimes, I still hear Marus' laugh in my dreams. You know the one; the one where he gets so excited that his giggles turn into a snort. Whenever I hear that laugh in my dream, I wake up sweating. Is he haunting me, I wonder? Perhaps you can check for me. Or did you wish to stay a while longer with those who remained? With Andrik, Anastasya, papej, your grandchildren ... and me? Of course, I know you did not exactly have a choice. But if you did ... I wonder which you would pick. I wonder which I would pick, too.

 

I surprise myself with how light-hearted these words sound. You always taught me that whatever I do, to do it with pride and honour, so I am not ashamed to admit I weep as I write this.

 

Because I miss you, mamej. I know how you are not my birth-mother. I have always known this, since I was old enough to read, but it never changed anything. Even when my birth-mother revealed herself to be alive, it did nothing to challenge the bond that has always existed between you and I. I know you worried, but there was never any need. You were, are, and will always be, my mother.

 

And yet, so much has changed. You are gone, as is Petra, and Marus, and so many others that I loved. I thought the hardest part of being King would learning all the duties, how to use my powers responsibly, how to court other nations, and how to lead armies. I was wrong, of course.

 

The hardest part was learning there are things even a King cannot do -- people even a King cannot protect.

 

I command a Brotherhood of over ten-thousand soldiers, but I could not save Petra. The Knight's Table of dozens of devoted warriors kneels before me, but I could not save Marus. The Church names me its greatest Defender, and I could not save you. Did papej ever have moments like that? Moments where it seemed like he was powerless against the hands of fate, like a leaf in the current? I suppose I should have known all along, shouldn't I? Since my own son died mere minutes after his birth, I should have realized that no one - not even the 'Fidei Defensor' - can change the tides of fate.

 

Do you see it differently from up there? Do you see if there was a purpose to all this? A purpose to your death, to the others', to this wretched war? To everything? I yearn to know that almost as much as I yearn to see you and the others again. Almost.

 

But ... perhaps that is what makes our time together precious. That, at any moment, our lives could be snuffed out makes it so that the time we do share together is priceless. Perhaps I merely cling to this conclusion because it is the only one that brings comfort, but I will do it nonetheless. I weep for you now, but I will never forget our time together, mamej. I will never forget your stern lessons in the Prikaz as a boy, nor will I ever forget your love and comfort for a boy who was not your own.

 

I will never forget your smile, your embrace, and the love with which you raised me.

 

It is ironic that that same love has made my duties as King so much harder. There are still so many I love that remain alive with me, from my family to my children. I have tried to make myself stone -- to make my heart iron -- so that I can lead the Kongzem with a level head, but my efforts have been in vain. As a result, every decision I make it measured against the love I have for those who stand by my side, and so every mistake hurts tenfold.

 

... Even so, I would not have it any other way.

 

All that remains is to face the future, to face this war and its consequences - whether that be victory or defeat, salvation or desolation - with the honour you taught me. No matter what horrors this war forces me to commit, know that I remain your son, now and always. Whether it will be at the end of an Orenian sword, or at my bed in fifty years, I will greet death, because that means I will get to see you again.

 

I suppose this is goodbye for now, then. Farewell.

I shall love you always, mamej.

 

Tell Godan to give me a break.

 

-your son.

 

Sigismund did not know how long he knelt by the gravestone, with the snow descending in gentle flurries all around him, but he did not care about time.

Before he had to leave, before he had to go and face the horrors of war, he just sat there.

 

He sat there, and said goodbye to his mother.

 

@Mady