Alone and Sublime

[PerfectlyPeachy 1344]

TW: Suicide, please do not read ahead if such topics may make you uncomfortable.

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

[Lukrezia, Joos van Cleve]

 

 

This day, the pain pierced her chest much worse than any day before. Gripping the silks of the dress she adorned, a fist pounded against her heart; the Princess wondered then when it would end. This suffering. Though she tried her best to hide it, others were beginning to take notice; of how hoarse her wheezing became, how sickly she sounded when she coughed, bile-filled and putrid. ANALIESA thought no differently of herself now, the woman who once exuded all confidence and poise. How far I have fallen, she laments. From the dais, she scanned those on-looking debutantes, making a staunch realization then. This world now belonged to the young — she was far beyond those days now.

 

Glancing at the list of the next presenting debutantes brings forth another pang. Her daughters — not all of them. At times, she saw those girls, the ones she lost. Their names were struck from this list. Nevertheless, her voice rose to announce.

 

“... Ladies Aleksandra Milena and Stefaniya Ipera of the Ducal House of Ruthern!”

 

She would not have had them saunter forth any other way. In fact, she trained them for no less than perfection. And just as she could recall, Elizaveta was nearing her debuting age, just before her last moments. Petra would be walking the aisle with them as well, if not for the blasted Mori. The thought brought a tear, but she suppressed it — even with the crowd’s eyes on her remaining children.

 

Perhaps it was the glow beaming from her daughter’s headdress, but a brief flash whizzed past her eye. She blinks, now seeing not two daughters, but all four.

 

“It’s…” She began, her head slightly shaking, “Strange, to see only two daughters before me.” Despite that declaration, Elizaveta stood just to Aleksandra’s left, beaming proudly as she adorned the very titanium kokoshnik her mother had made for her. Petra stood opposite Stefaniya, meek and mild, and in an ensemble more modest than her older sisters. Analiesa wishes to see each detail of this figment. But to her dismay, a portion of their visage is blurred and faded. Even their faces were disfigured and mangled. Still… how beautiful they looked, haunting her.

 

They did that so often, appearing in her lonesome, and as Aleksandra dedicated her debuting token to both departed sisters, Analiesa’s mind began to slip away from the proceedings as a whole. The room darkened, and a constant droning buzz echoed throughout her ears. If she concentrated hard enough, it was almost as if she could hear a voice — her voice.

 

“... It’s lonely here without you, mamej.”

 

Came that demure whisper, and the mere utterance struck her with a deep physical discomfort, the very insides of her stomach twisting into an unbreakable tether of knots. It was the sickness, surely it must be. The withering of her soul had begun to take root, and hallucinations were bound to occur. She saw them — those girls — often, but never did they speak to her. With a degree of rigidity, her grip begins to tighten upon the support of her chair, nails scratching against lacquered wood. 

 

“Why did you leave us, mamej?”

 

There, she spoke again! Her warble was no more than a distorted crackling, a harrowing amalgamation of her sisters' voices, but she heard it — Elizaveta, just beneath the surface, always just out of reach, always just out of sight. It was maddening, the constant visions of her two departed offspring, it would be enough to drive any mother to enact terrible, drastic measures.

 

And Analiesa was always known for terrible, drastic measures. 

 

“... My mamej, the Prinzenas Royal. I believe she’d like to read this in her own time, your Majesty.” 

 

Stefaniya’s voice drew her in like a lullaby, and she realized that Elizaveta and Petra had never been there at all. Waiting expectantly for her recognition were Aleksandra and Stefaniya, the surviving girls of her brood. With the remaining strength that she so desperately clung to, her voice was cleared, and a hand of spindly digits came to take rest at her bosom. Stefaniya, in her youth, was much like Elizaveta. Pure, innocent, and kind-hearted. Something had happened to her, though, following the death of her eldest sister — something had changed inside her, warped and disfigured. Analiesa didn’t like that. She had begun to remind her of Aleksandr.

 

Her elder daughter, Aleksandra, had reminded her much of her father in her youth. She used to believe that she was the product of both their most undesirable traits, cruel, apathetic, and unfeeling — the worst of her, and the very epitome of him. It was almost poetic, how both of them had transformed into a shadow of their sister's former self. Stefaniya, with rage building inside her that Analiesa feared would burn their family to the ground, and Aleksandra, once so stalwart in concealing her innermost thoughts, now freely shedding tears. She loved them, though — even still. 

 

 

---

 

 

[Jan van Eyck]

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

“I believe that we should strive to be honest with one another, Aleksandr. No matter how painful it may be to the soul.” Analiesa had begun. The news of Georg’s disappearance rang throughout her ears not dissimilar to tinnitus. Aleksandr had woven her arm throughout his, and his calloused hand was set upon her forearm. It was strange, this act of affection - it was out of place.

 

“I do not ever agonize as to the state of my soul,  Analiesa. I am sorry for your brother.” He droned in that indignant tone she had grown to detest. “Speak, and be honest with me.”

 

“.. We stopped loving one another a long time ago, didn’t we?” She was unsure why she posed it as a question, for she already knew the answer. She and Aleksandr were the very likenesses of mutually assured destruction, and there was no pain that could be inflicted that the two had not already committed on the other. 

 

“I could not rightly say.”

 

“Perhaps it was a sense of duty that tethered us to one another for all these years, or even rebellion - to spite those who strove to separate us in youth.”

 

“No. Not that.” He began, and kept her own arm wrapped in his, the other lifting to rest against the railing of the bridge. The two stood upon the great walkway to Valdev, peering over the river as the current shifted. “I do not know that I have ever loved you, nor our children.” - “I wanted you, though. For as long as I recall.”

 

Analiesa felt no pain at this statement. She would have, once, she would have threatened to throw him off the railings and into the river below - perhaps she may have even attempted to. “I had thought hearing that would hurt me, but I don’t think we are capable of that anymore. We have already inflicted too much prior harm.”

 

“I am not to blame for all of your ills, Analiesa. You carry with you a madness that I cannot comprehend.” His gaze was unerring, cold. “But I do regret.” - “More of our time apart, than together.”

 

“Why, if you do not love me?”

“I do not wish to be rid of you.”

 

There came a lull of silence where Analiesa did not speak. She wondered if Aleksandr felt uncomfortable with that silence, if he felt the need to fill it - and then, did he speak.

 

“There have been few constants in my life. Your brother was one.” - “With every loss, I feel my world shrink smaller. I am ever without.”

 

“... It is the way of things, Aleksandr.” She began, with a twinge of bitterness interlaced between her words. “But my world ended with the lives of our two daughters, with our … our beautiful girls.”

 

“They were weak.” He spoke in a hushed tone, and Analiesa could have sworn she detected a hint of guilt. “They were ours, they should have been strong - as we have both been.”

 

Analiesa was enraged by this comment, instinctually protective even as her daughters lay buried. “They were only girls!” - “Children.” She lamented, her grip tightening upon the fabrics of his coat - pleading. “We have not been strong, Aleksandr. We have been detached.”

 

“I have been steadfast.”

 

Exasperated, Analiesa severs all forms of contact as she retracts her arm from his grasp. She felt it, again - their presence and her throat tightened at the thought of Elizaveta and Petra bearing witness to Aleksandr’s admission. Such was a secret she would take to the grave, his disregard for their children. She had decided that, following her death, they would be safer with the impression of a loving parent remaining. Such would be a discovery they would have to make themselves. 

 

“We have been a misery together.” Insisted Analiesa, the very precipice of emotion beginning to stir in her tear ducts.

 

“Not all the time, Analiesa.” Came Aleksandr’s retort, and he was equally as insistent.

 

“Those years did not last.” - “They ended with Elizaveta’s birth.”

 

“Perhaps.” That was all he offered.

 

There was another lull of silence, and Aleksandr filled it with his voice once more. Analiesa enjoyed the breeze and allowed her eyes to close.

 

“None have ever challenged me, as you and your brother.”

 

“You always hated it when I challenged you.” She stated, fighting a laugh.

 

“It did not stop you. I shall miss it, this place is so dreadfully dull.” - “This place and its people.”

 

“This is not our world anymore, Aleksandr.” - “It is for the young now.”

 

“Not while I’ve still a grasp on it.” He purses his lips and eyes her sidelong. “When we were young -” He began, speaking plainly. “I would have died for your hand. Or else slain your father.” - “I could not tell you why, perhaps ‘tis my own madness.”

 

There came a moment of reflection for Analiesa as the current of the river shifted and sprawled over the bank, and she recalled a conversation she had once had with her elder brother, Georg. “He always knew, you know.” - “He knew that you did not love me, hah, he even said so plainly. He was of the opinion that it was not love, nor desire, but obsession - the obsession with claiming the prize of your generation, and the compulsion to be chosen above all others.” - “It was of no consequence to you that it was I who held the title.”

 

“Georg was rarely right, if ever.” He considered, running a hand through his greying hair. “I did prevail, in the end. Perhaps ‘tis true.”

 

“I feel a fool.” She lamented, “For having fought for you so ferociously.”

 

“You would not have fared better without me.” He murmured coldly, grasping the rails of the bridge.

 

“Perhaps I might have been truly loved.” Analiesa allowed herself a moment to wonder what that life would have been like, had she not been crushed under the weight of parental expectation, the expectation of her Kingdom. Would she have turned into such a vicious woman? Perhaps she would have been loved by all and raised a family with a man who truly adored her. With a man who did not see her as something to be possessed and claimed. 

 

“And what might you have made of that love?” - “Your brother truly loved my cousin.” Aleksandr spoke once more, and Analiesa struggled to see into his mind. Usually, she was rather gifted with pinpointing the evidence of Aleksandr’s true feelings. Perhaps she had lost her touch.

 

“Perhaps I would have had a life that I do not hate. Perhaps I may have even grown into a woman that I do not detest.”

 

“Perhaps you might have been nobody at all.”

 

“I may have even preferred it, as  that is eventually what I became.”

 

“Such often comes when one wallows in their misery.”

 

“It is a deserved fate.” Analiesa croaked out.

 

“I do not think so.” Said he, with an unusual degree of softness. It made her uncomfortable.

 

“You would not, we are too similar.” - “You could never admit to your faults.” It was true, Aleksandr had never been able to admit to his wrongdoings, and it was something that drove his wife completely mad. Always, it would be her at fault - whatever the occasion, Aleksandr simply always placed all blame onto his spouse. Perhaps he was right, in the end. Perhaps she simply was the catalyst for all catastrophe. 

 

“For I know it shall not serve me.” He murmured firmly, unwavering in his beliefs. 

 

“Do you ever wish that you had done things differently?” Analiesa prepared herself for an unsavoury retort, they had promised to be honest with one another, after all. 

 

“I do not go a day without regret.”

 

“And what are those regrets?”

 

“Much and more.” - “But not those early days with you.”

 

“...No, I do not regret those days either.” - “All I ever wanted was for you to love me as I did you. You completed me.” And it was true, Aleksandr had completed her - but he had also destroyed her. Analiesa clung to the belief that had she not married him, she would not have grown to be so completely detestable. But she did not regret it, no. Aleksandr had given her the seven most joyous things to grace her life - her children. 

 

“I fear I know not how.”

 

“Perhaps you will realise it, once I am gone.”

 

“I pray that I do not.” - “‘Tis not a pain I wish to know.”

 

“You cried once, at the thought of losing me,” Analiesa spoke, recalling an instance following her father’s final refusal of their engagement. She had threatened to take her own life, and had even attempted to do so - the only reason she still drew breath was due to the medical expertise of her Aunt, Cardinal Katerina. Without her, she would have been lost for good. “What happened to that boy?”

 

“He grew old.” Those words struck her deeply, and it was only then that she saw him for his true age - how he had wrinkled. Forever in her mind, he had been the young boy atop his horse with a lance poised for his opponent.

 

“...You will care for them, won’t you? Not in your way, but in mine. You must love them. You must, on my behalf.” “They have already suffered far too much cruel and unusual punishment.”

 

“I shall try.” He had appeared sincere in that promise, squeezing her hand before promptly letting go. 

 

Analiesa dried her eyes of their encroaching tears and allowed herself a moment to look at Aleksandr, and truly see him for what she knew would be her final time. He always had been handsome, but never had he been kind. Try as she might, though, she could not deny that she still held love for this man, and that was the most pathetic admission of all - that she pined for a man who held her in a regard of apathy. Nevertheless, she placed a hand on his cheek and pressed her lips to his. One final act of affection after thirty years of cruelty.

 

Aleksandr reciprocated for a moment before he retreated, proffering a soft and pitying smile in return. His eyes were dry, but mournful - as if the words he longed to speak simply would not come. He settled for a simple phrase of; “Be well, Analiesa.” - “I shall try.” He reaffirmed. 

 

“I thought that I had stopped loving you, Aleksandr.” - “But I do not think that day will ever come.” She hesitated, before uttering a phrase imparted from her daughter. Elizaveta’s final words, and now hers. “Be strong.” She whispered, “But not too strong.”

 

---

 

 

[Rembrandt van Rijn]

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

She had always thought that she had not asked for much from life. 

 

She was the daughter of King Karl the Lion - the most powerful monarch of Almaris in his days - and, through her father, she had wealth and power at her uncalloused fingertips. From the outset, her resolve had been to do her duty without complaint: she would wed in an appropriate match, and sire children. When she took Aleksandr’s hand in marriage, she had fought her father’s protests tooth and nail in pursuit of the one thing she did want.

 

To be loved.

 

Her soft sigh was drowned out by the patter of the rain streaking down the window as she stared out from the manor, and onto the strange streets of Valdev. She had thought she had not asked for much, but now she knew she was wrong. Aleksandr had not loved her, and that had taught her that true love was a rarer and more precious thing than her royal father could ever hope to conjure up. He had not loved her, and she found herself more alone than she ever was in the cold hilltop halls of Vidaus. 

 

The view of the grey morning outside became distorted as the rain sheened the window. With that pain in her chest and her eyes looking through the rain at something unseen, it even felt as if the years raising her children had been but a brief reprieve from that all-consuming loneliness -- She hoped that her son, Villorik, would not allow for her father’s dream to die with her. As she imagined what the future would be like without her at their side, she assumed that her death would fuel him to unimaginable heights. He would lead the faithful in a crusade against the heathens of Aevos, and blood would coat the steel of his sword. He would never truly come to terms with the death of the three women he loved dearly, though. They would haunt him, as they had haunted her. 

 

Viktor would accept the mantle of Duke with hesitation, and yet determination would boil his blood. He was strong, her boy - the strongest of them all, but she hoped that he would not make the same mistakes as she and Aleksandr did. She wished for him to be surrounded by friends and family alike, with his own small brood of children to care for. Even his betrothed, Katia - she hoped that she would be happy stepping into her shoes, and would deign to wear a smile for the courts.

 

Aleksandra would marry the Prince of Merryweather, and while she would not truly grasp the meaning of motherhood, she would adore her children. She imagined her daughter would be much like her in that regard, and it brought a smile to those sore lips of hers. Aleksandra would not deign to resign herself to simply the role of consort though, no, not her daughter. She would continue in her alchemical pursuits and surpass any who came before her, her scientific breakthroughs would change the world. 

 

Andrik, her boy - while not of her blood, she had always accepted him as her trueborn son. She had seven children, not six, and he was the one that held the softest piece of her heart. She had always pitied him, being neglected by his own parents, and so it was only natural to raise him alongside his cousins. She hoped that following her death, he too would change, and grow into a man that he himself could be proud of. He would be the one to name a child after her, she knew it to be so.

 

Stefaniya would be by far the most affected by her sudden demise, which brought a sensation of guilt to the bowels of her stomach. She could see how she was slowly turning into a shell of herself, as Analiesa once had. She knew that Stefaniya would, slowly but surely, isolate herself from both her family and her friends. Perhaps she might even turn to violence. Eventually, though, she hoped that her daughter would come to the realisation that Analiesa once had. To be lonely is one of the greatest burdens of all. 

 

It was only when she felt the cold stone did she realise she was leaning against the wall for support. Her breath had grown ragged as another pang jolted through her chest, and yet she barely felt it. She knew this reminiscing did nothing but stir wistful regret and worsen her condition, but, as her grip shakily tightened on the wall, she did not stop - she did not pull her mind out of the past, for what was the point? 

 

Everyone had come. Everyone had gone. 

 

Why is it that I’m the only one left? She was aware of another pang, but she did not feel it - not really. Her vision had grown hazy, and as she looked through the window, it was not her reflection that stared back through the mist and rain, but Eliza’s. 

 

“Mamej? Why are you waiting?” 

 

She opened her mouth to answer, but she could not draw enough breath. Even if she could, she knew she had no answer. Why … why am I still waiting? The rain continued to patter down against the window as Analiesa slowly raised a trembling hand, and pressed it to Eliza’s reflection. 

 

The reflection pressed her own hand back. 

 

“I can’t look at you like this anymore, mamej,” the spectre intoned softly, and sadly. “You have spent so long in the darkness.” 

 

“So please …” As a voice spoke in equal softness behind her, Analiesa whipped around, though she did not dare move her hand from Eliza against the window. Standing in the middle of the room - barely ten paces away - was Petra. Compared to the dreary bedroom and the pale, rainy day outside, Petra was a bastion of colour; Analiesa had never seen a shade of red so brilliant as the shade of her daughter’s dress, nor a blue so bright yet so deep as her eyes. “ … come into the light.” 

 

At that moment, the ghostly memory of Analiesa’s daughter seemed realer than the physical world around her. And so, she knew.

 

Of course. Gently, she closed her eyes. She had tried for so long - since her grandmother Queen Emma had first died, since she felt the first traces of that darkness, she had marched on; then, her truest friends Franziska and Adelajda left Haense behind them, with Adelajda to marry abroad and Franziska to explore the world. In doing so, they had left Analiesa. Then, her royal parents, crushed under the weight of her father’s tumultuous reign, had left her too to take their rest in the beyond; then, her own two beloved daughters - that which she thought would save her from the darkness - died, and Analiesa had been powerless to stop it; and now, Georg was gone, too. Somewhere along the way, she had also lost herself.

 

No, she stopped herself. They’re … “Not gone,” Petra finished. The memory reached out, and the pangs seemed to stop as she touched her mother’s shoulder. “They’re resting.” 

 

She had marched through the lonely darkness for so long. She had been strong for so long. Now, though, she was tired of walking, and she knew that the road held nothing but more endless night. 

 

And so, she stopped walking. 

 

They’re right. Why live on with such suffering and agony? Why allow those around her to witness her decay? That is no way to be happy. To find true happiness, she must join them. Wherever Georg had gone, wherever her daughters had been swept away to, surely it provided better comfort than this. She would not leave them again, she thought — ironically, taking up this plot would mean leaving behind the rest.

 

Briefly, she thinks of them. Soon, she assumes it is better for them this way.

 

Her remaining children are left with a note — it is the least she can do. The Barbanov princess could not remember the last time her heart had felt so determined, yet so woeful all the same. But, Elizaveta’s fading voice acts as a voice of twisted reason. Maybe she was as mad as Aleksandr said, but at least she would no longer be alone.

 

One last vision stands before her — that precious angel of hers, the Cometborn, hovers from across the room with open arms. She is joyous, and she is nearly within reach. Within reach, she could hold her again. Her hands lifted to the noose that hung from the rafters of the manor, and she slipped it around her throat.

 

“I’m coming, Elizaveta.”

 

The stool is then kicked from under Analiesa’s feet, clamouring to the wooden floor with a ceremonious THUD. She struggled, she gasped, and then…

 

She blinked. 

 

She knelt, her hands to the floor, and the stool discarded on the ground beside her. Did I …? She began.

 

Slowly - very slowly - she craned her neck upwards. She felt no pangs, no pain, no stiffness. The room was no longer grey and dreary, and it was no longer pale and rainy light that streamed through her bedroom window. Radiant sunlight pooled into the room, silhouetting them - all of them.

 

The sun had never shone brighter, and she never saw darkness again. 

 

---

Spoiler

Credit to Xarkly and Moenah for helping me whip up this post, I'm insanely appreciative. I don't think I could have done it without the two of you. Instead of having a section of written letters to characters that have had an impact on my character, I'm just going to dedicate some songs to the big ones that come to mind. These songs are all from the POV of Analiesa, rest in power queen!

Vladimir @Dyl- [Click]

 

Aleksandr @Demavend - [Click]

 

Adelajda, Franziska, and Viorica @Madyyy@spicii@sarahbarah- [Click]

 

Aleksandra, Stefaniya, Villorik, Viktor and Andrik @Moenah@Xarkly@TheIchorDruid@ReveredOwl@ContestedSnow - [Click]

 

Karl and Amadea @GMRO@shay- [Click]

Georg @garentoft- [Click]

 

[ContestedSnow 778]

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

 

His fingers were rapping against the wood again. The same droning sound, slow and methodical, like that dreadful creaking; perhaps that awful sound had drilled itself into his very motions. The crackle of ashes and crumbling wood roused him occasionally. Viktor var Ruthern had sat silently in that room, next to the very last place he had spoken to his mother, for God know's how long. First, he had deigned to pray in church, but now... perhaps he longed for her company, still.

Over the years, he had come to realise many faults of his parents both, and yet...

 

"Ea lied, and Ea was wrong. Ea still had questions to ask."

 

A hand came up to hold his face, and he returned to that lonely silence. He could not stay like this, he knew, but he wanted to at least a little longer.

Edited June 16, 2023 by ContestedSnow

[ReveredOwl 5332]

Sobbing, that was all Andrik would hear through the manor's walls as he lay awake all through the night, staring at the cieling. The last conversation he had with his mother raced through his mind over and over, various scenarios playing through his head, I could've talked her out of it, how did we not notice this was coming?

 

The last image Andrik would have of his mother would be her suffering, one of the last things she had said to him was that he was a disappointment. He was used to being called a disappointment from the Duke, but not his mother, she always had his back; he must've royally messed up to gain her ire.

"I will miss you, I am sorry I disappointed you. I promise I will change."

 

Andrik promised as he lay awake, restless and without sleep, this would be a promise he will keep.

Edited June 16, 2023 by ReveredOwl

[Moenah 1019]

[Karl Pavlovich]

 

 

“... You know, you truly have taken after me.”

 

Those words from her father brought an eager and joyous smile to ALEKSANDRA’S face. What better glory could there be than to remind the world of her mighty namesake? She was able to take pride in all things, so long as she carried his approval. Hearing him compare her brief accomplishments to her other siblings never failed to instill some excitement in her soul. However, approval was not so easy when it came to her MOTHER. To look down at her daughter and see all the worst she despised about herself and her husband churned her stomach at times.

 

She was born just as indignant, and perhaps a bit more violent — violence hashed out indiscriminately, towards even the most minor of inconveniences. She was nothing like the angelic sister her mother adored so much. And the Ruthern was skilled at concealing just how much she hated that fact. Following her death, it was then that Aleksandra felt as if she had somehow taken her place — as a daughter, at least. All responsibility the late Elizaveta had was instead pushed to her brother. But unlike him, Aleksandra had something to prove.

 

She could show her mother now that she was the strongest, the most competent, the most graceful. Worthy of all love and praise. If she used her intelligence to find an alchemical cure for her mother's ailment, she would get that. That was all she wanted. To be so constantly competitive in all that time somehow changed her, perhaps for the better. Analiesa told her that day that she had taken notice.
 

Why, then, couldn’t she have only waited until it was done?
 

How cruel of her mother, to cut her own life short right before her eyes. Her eyes turn to the rope with nothing but horror.

[kaylacita 1018]

At the steps to the Ruthern Manor, the goddaughter to Analiesa approached with a weak smile. It had been a tiresome month, but she came to accept the death of her King; her fatherly figure who she held dear. With it, she wished to speak to the Princess Royal and offer her condolences. Family must comfort each other, after all.

The solace that the Duchess felt left as quickly as it came, for when she arrived, Ser Vladimir carried Analiesa. She was lifeless in his arms, and her neck was bruised. At his side was their Queen, Amaya of Venzia, who quivered from the sight that Roslin now too witnessed.

"Is this a nightmare?" Her face paled, but she dared not speak her thoughts. Instead, she walked alongside them to the Everardian Basilica to mourn her alone, filled with regret. If only she could have spoken to the Princess more, perhaps she might have lived for at least another day. 

 

"Her poor children..."

[SethWolf 1392]

Spoiler

I don't have a character who can write an rp reponse but I just want to say that Analiesa is my favorite character in Haense and I've loved seeing her develop. Will forever be one of my favorite characters from LOTC!

 

[Xarkly 12618]

wwowoowoowowowowoowowo

[Mio 3771]

MARIUS AUDEMAR amidst his vast exploration of the realm caught word of  the news. His heart only able to swell with grief. Albeit a formidable figure to some, known for his strength and resilience, his family was the ultimate cornerstone of his existence. A cornerstone which had gradually been chipped away from. First, his beloved parents, the sword and shield that fortified his spirit departed from the realm - leaving him with none but his siblings. Then, his dear brother Georg, who was Marius' hope for his ancestral home had succumb to the cruel hand of fate. And now, Analiesa, the woman who lead her family in ways Marius could only dream to replicate... had left it all behind.
 

Their relationship had been a complex tapestry of sibling rivalry, fraught with childhood squabbles and evolving into adult quarrels. Though they did have their moment.. These burdens of each other -- these burdens of life -- had etched marks upon their souls, shaping them into the individuals they each became, until their departure. 
 

"I would brand you selfish, dear sister, if only I did not envy the love you're now embraced with among the stars. I wish I'd fought you harder on it . . . one of my few battles lost." Marius murmured to the skies, his voice laced with both sorrow and longing, he could only hope she listened. "Farewell, sweet Analiesa. I carry the weight of countless regrets. I pray your forgiveness."
 

With a final, lingering gaze at the sky, Marius allowed his glassy eyes to shatter, embracing the ache of recent times losses. He would continue on his path in this world forever altered. Counting his days.

[Olox_ 3417]

Heinrich II Lothar, the Prince of Merryweather, spent a lot of time with mourning Aleksandra in the basilica, comforting her after the loss of her mother. Henry's six-year relationship did not help him understand his future mother-in-law, but perhaps he simply chose not to try and understand? Little did it matter now. The Waldenian Prince knew one thing - he had to be strong for his wife-to-be. With such conviction, he stood silently by her side for as long as she needed him to...

[crazedpudding 2125]

Klara Elizaveta gently drew her niece into an embrace. "Welcome home, dove."

[Mady 3067]

Upon the discovery of her newly granted divorce gone public, Adelajda vas Ruthern would exit her room for the first time in years in search of her childhood best friend and sister in law, a bright smile beaming upon her face. This happiness, however, did not last as she was met with a loss she had not sought out. 

[critter 2470]

Fabian d'Arkent-Kortrevich sits alone at his desk; where he has mourned his father, and his uncle, and now his aunt. He is not yet thirty; though heavy with a hundred regrets, not the least of which that he had never truly known the Princess now gone. She had been formidable and beyond him in his youth; then, when they might have stood on some even ground, he had always assumed the time would simply.. come.

 

It had not.

 

And now, his knee aching from a wound wrought by her youngest daughter's blade; his eyes damp with tears for the woman lost, it never would.

[sarahbarah 5022]

Amaya Milena, Queen of Haense, stumbled into the Ruthern manor as Aleksandra's shrill, agonizing wails of grief pierced the very atmosphere itself, it seemed. The world spun, as the Queen turned her bleary gaze towards the skies above. She uttered a prayer.

 

Meanwhile, Viorica wept for a friend long lost, ruminating on words never spoken.

[Dyl 1568]

Vladimir carried Analiesa to the Basilica slowly, it was a sad reality he was coming to terms with as he carried her lifeless corpse. I wish... his thoughts ran rampant, I wish I had more time. There was much more I wanted to say. He closed her eyes, the last time he would ever see those beautiful emerald eyes. The pain was too much for him to bear, but he had to be strong.

 

"Vladimir, promise me you will protect the children..." 

 

"I... I promise." He responded with hesitation. He had hoped he could save her, to ward off the impending darkness of death, but he knew all too well. Once Analiesa had decided something, nothing short of God's own power could stop her. The two shared a kiss, and at the one point, it seemed that all the chaos between them, all the fire, the storms, all of it had calmed down. There was nothing but the two of them. Analiesa was floating away from him, as Vladimir stood in his spot, unable to save her. "Perhaps in another life, we were married..." 

 

Analiesa nodded her head, but stayed quiet. This would be the last time the two would ever see each other, at least in life. Vladimir kept his eyes to the floor as he exited the manor, he hoped that when he died, the two would reunite, but that would hopefully come later. In the end, they did not depart as Ser Vladimir, the Knight Paramount, and Her Serene Highness, Analiesa Josefina, the Princess Royal. 

 

It was Ana and Vlad... 

[Tourning 34]

Katia Godunov, the mentioned betrothed of the late Analiesa's eldest son, Viktor, sat static, in expression and body, within her own home upon word of the news reaching her. She reminisced of their first meeting in Karosgrad, and later the Karosgrad siege, their stay at the monastery. She truly knew not of  Princess Royal well, beyond stories and passing rumors, but she had held a deep, overwhelming respect for her even still.

Later that day, she herself wandered to the Ruthern manor, deigning a faint, sympathetic smile in search of her fiancée.