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HIS NAME WAS SIGISMUND


Xarkly
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She hadn't known how long it had been.  Months?  Years?  A mere few days?  Her dreams distorted the hours,  yet they made everything easier.  That was, until she'd have these brief bouts of sobriety and wakefulness - met with an empty sight and the touch of cold stone; nothing.  It always ended in nothing.  How could such a dull feeling ache so much?  What made such dreams inflict this much pain unto her?  Of those bygone days of whispered promises and sparking glances, of that vow uttered between those bookshelves?  The shared kiss? 

 

The Moth couldn't face the truth still, how could she after all she's sacrificed?  Had that been for nothing too?  She hated this doubt in her, yet where could she go to escape it?  It was all she could do to close her eyes and dream.  Dream.  Of those foolish days.  He was there sometimes, that young prince with stormy eyes.  Even after she'd given him that beard, that youthful glint of mischief never faded from his stare.  She wondered, before the haze of rest came over her again--does he still have that glint?

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Nikolai Mikhail looked over to Sigismund for the first time ever.. The young boy had been stuffing his face full of bread in the attempt to avoid whatever dinner was being made in the kitchens earlier that day. It was disgusting, but to Sigismund, it would mean the world since it indicated the approval of his marriage to Jan's youngest sister, Emma..

But sat right next to the toddler was the prince,
Sigismund the III. Even at nineteen, he was tall and intimidating to the boy. He carried himself with grace, as any good future king should..

Sigismund looked down at the quiet boy at some point and smiled..

 "And who might you be?"

"Nikolai"  The toddler answered sheepishly.. The first words they ever exchanged. Simple, but even now Nikolai remembered them like it was yesterday. 


_____

Nikolai found out the king was passing through Vladrik.. Oddly enough. Time gone quicker than he wished since then.

He was lucky enough to spend time with the Koeng one last time, truly, until it was over.

Dinner at Jerovitz, just as it had begun. 


He watched the Koeng throughout the night; the way he looked around, or gave advice.. reminisced on stories. He even called for Nikolai to take a walk with him at the end of the night; Sharing heartfelt words that the viscount needed to hear, offering some back as best he could through his mourning, his fear.

 

Finally, it was over though, and they made their way back to the gates.. He watched his Sigismund and Emma called for their horses and prepared their leave. He watched as Sigismund looked over the keep with glassy eyes, and at last, he watched as Sigismund said the last thing he ever would to Nikolai

"Dravi, Lord Kortrevich"

"Dravi, Aedypapej" Nikolai said in return, holding his own daughter in his arms now as the royals left.


_____

Nikolai sat in his families cafe after the duel between the koeng and Ser Walton.. The lord drank some vodka in quiet as he collected his thoughts. He did smile softly through his tears.. He figured, this hurt something awful but he was thankful because out of all the loss he had experienced.. 

He actually got to say goodbye this time, and he could not wait to see Sigismund again one day. 

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Iulius Vernhart released a deepening sigh as he sat on his bed. "The keong am dead." He said softly, his eyes bouncing across the room as if trying to make sense of it all. The first person he has met in Haense- the first person who had greeted him, who asked for his story. A man who had promised to hear where he had been and what he had done with the first part of his life. Than man was now gone, survived by his memory and his family. He never got to have dinner with him- never got to get drunk with him- never got to tell him about his adventures like he promised he would do. A sense of deep guilt filled the Vernhart, his eyes flooding with tears. "Ea shall see vy again, mea friend- ea will tell you of mea adventures... even if it is in the seven skies."

 

Borris Iver Kortrevich watched the body hit the floor. He was unsure if what he was seeing was real. His Aedypapej- dead. A noble death, perhaps, but still a death. He felt an odd sense of relief... yet his sadness hid that for a long time. He was glad to have known such a man- to have written his poetry in the presence of such a man- and to have had the pleasure of having him as the topic in his works.

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Leopold Sigmar Morovar would sign the Lorraine Cross after hearing of his Majesty the Kings passing. "You were a great Monarch, one who the people loved dearly, and I know that you will indeed be missed. May you rest in peace."

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Petra was the first Sigismund saw as he ascended to the Skies. As he arrived, she bore the brightest of smiles as she wrapped him in a warm embrace.

 

"...You took your time, little brother. -- But you're finally home. You can rest now."

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A horse of snow would ride Notth, on the road to Karosgrad. The Patriot rode hard, traveling across the continent upon hearing of the King’s ailment.  As he arrived to the gates, he saw the gathering and knew it was too late. He would take a dagger on his hip and cut his palm, dripping blood into the snow next to him. “A winters fate for such a king. I never met him, but he had his finest hours in the past twenty years. Long alive Sigismund the Faithful.”

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August Barclay placed a hand to his heart with a tear rolling down his face - an odd sight for the aging knight as he presumed himself desensitized to the recent surge of events.

 

"You were a fair Koeng, Sigismund und Ich was proud to be your friend." 

 

He cried - hauling himself off to his chambers. 

Though he couldn't press away his forlorn memories with Sigismund - seeing him as a bit of an uncle after his blood father's departure from his young life.

-----

 

"Do niet keep such a mindset, August - it wont get vy anywhere."

Sigismund chastised the page during one of their Knightly trainings together

 

August offered a quiet nod in response - as if fearful of the then young Koeng.

 

 

"I'll miss you, mein Koeng - Ich wast proud to be in dein retinue."

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Filibert Applefoot busts into the scene at perhaps the worst possible moment:

Spoiler

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Bishop Katerina would be decorating the lifeless and covered body of her nephew, Sigismund III. Her tearstained eyes gazing in a numb stare. Though she forced a smile nonetheless as she stroked his head one last time.

 

"Rest now dear, vy are finally free"

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Dame Emelya Eloise Kortrevich would kneel by his body draped in her knightly cloak in a vigilant watch,  "Dravi Sigismund." That would be the only time since she met him as a toddler in her very first memory that she would use his name rather than His Majesty.

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Looking down towards her beloved child, Queen Annika could not help but shed a tear. Sigismund, alongside his sister, had made the late queen a mother, being her first children, although not by her own body. Since the moment she held the boy, she knew he would do great things and thus he exceeded the queens expectations and more. Come the day of her departure from the land, Annika knew of only one thing, and that would be the success of her son. He would be loved, respected, and even more so a fighter just as his father and grandfather had been. Dignified in his own right, Sigismunds actions never lessened his mothers adoration. “Welcome home my son. Annika cooed as she embraced the king as he entered the skies. “Time to take your respite with your family.” And as she took a step back, behind her would be his siblings awaiting his attendance, ready to cause even more mischief just like they did in their youth @sarahbarah @erictafoya @shay @Louis @Rudi
 

Spoiler

@XarklyIt was such a pleasure getting to rp with you in the circumstances as we did.  I will be forever proud of how you handled yourself through situations that others would certainly would have crumbled. You are a strong and impressive individual and I am happy to say you certainly went out with an incredible end. Congratulations my friend 🥂

 

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Bakir Ireheart raised his glass to toast to the great Haense king. He'd take a drink before muttering these words "I once asked you, do you wish to control your death, and do you wish for a peaceful or glorious one? Perhaps you have gotten both. It saddens me we will not meet in Kaz'a'dentrumm, but I smile as I know your name will live on."

 

Spoiler

unknown.png

 

Edited by Elite Snipes
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Maya Ceciliya escaped to her bedroom. 

 

Below the unforgiving and unstopping world mourned her father collectively. She had already given all she could to grieve. There was no sorrow greater. No anguish more tenacious. Maybe it was better that it was a shared sadness, which is why the world didn’t collapse. She was convinced it would have, so the surprise was surreal. 

 

Maya was the weakest of her loved ones. Especially when she was younger, she could picture adversely running behind her brother’s or father's legs, telling them of the evil words the other kids spewed. Glee had run throughout her veins in those moments when threats of violence were made against those who bruised her ego. 

 

She was protected then. Who would protect her now? When things had been hard, she could always rely on her father. Even if he said he’d always be there, she had nothing of his to carry him with her. God had sinned taking him away, not before she was ready. Then again, how could anyone be ready for death? 

 

Subsequently, Maya had been the one to take his confession and last rites. She had been the first to know how bad his sickness was, even before Karl. She had refused to cry in front of him on his death bed, reminiscing now on the few short words they shared and one last laugh. 

 

But nothing lasts forever.

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Hickory would frown knowing the king of haense who cared for musin has passed but knowing that he wouldn't want anyone to be sad but to live happily " Hickory Will dos his bests to makes the King giant proud!" the musin would say with a bright smile 

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