[PK] FLEETING FREEDOM

[spicii 1114]

 

 

 

The Princess Royal, Analiesa Josefina and Franziska vas Ruthern

 

Author’s Note ;

 

Spoiler

Writing this post really helped me to actually bring myself to log back into the server. Taking a break from major discords/the server was the best decision to deal with my grief (if yknow yknow) as it was just constantly on my mind every time I logged on, but now I feel as though I might be ready to come back. Franziska was a very fun and complicated character to play, and everyone in Haense was so kind to me despite the rumours, which I will continue to be grateful for. Special mentions for Mady, Peachy, Proddy, Herodium & last and least Ben. This is not my best work writing wise, but enjoy reading guys :)

 

Franziska Baruch had vanished from sight, remaining unseen and unheard for several long months. As the relentless demands on her emotional well-being pushed her circuits to the brink, and every alternative avenue to alleviate the mounting pressure was exhausted, the notion of escaping became increasingly appealing. Running away had been an ingrained coping mechanism for her, deeply rooted in a history marked by abandonment and recklessness. 

 

With a concerned furrow in his brow, Henry of Mardon inquired about her determination, gently resting his calloused hand on her shoulder. Franziska nodded thoughtfully, her gaze fixed on the horizon as she stood, discreetly tucking a substantial sum of mina into their already laden bags. She refrained from casting a final glance or farewell to any of her children, even to the ones born from her extramarital affairs. With a sense of callous determination, the two embarked on their journey, distancing themselves from the turmoil and problems of Hanseti-Ruska. 

 

In the daring escape from the shackles of their past, Henry and Franziska navigated a path of taverns, seeking refuge in the dimly lit corners of each establishment they stumbled upon. Yet, as the days turned into weeks and the number of inn’s they visited multiplied, a weariness began to settle in the bastard’s heart. He couldn't help but feel the weight of their relentless flight, and the constant uncertainty was beginning to erode his spirit. While the Ruthern remained resolute in their quest for freedom, he grappled with the growing desire to put down roots. The taverns and inns, once symbols of adventure, had become a reminder of the endless running, and the man yearned for a reprieve from their restless journey.

 

It was a selfish yet strangely invigorating endeavour. Franziska Ivanna Baruch, formerly a Ruthern, a once-tried Duchess, an adulterer, and a child abandoner, led a transient existence, with each inn providing temporary respite for her unsettled mind. Albeit it never lasted and never would. 

 

A brief, hesitant conversation eventually unfolded. "I am tired of running, Fran. I can't bear this uncertainty any longer." Henry confessed, his hands cradling his head in dismay. "We are different, tragic, but we're still alive, Henry. We do niet have to keep running. Can't we settle down here? Can't we?" Franziska implored, her fragile hope shining through as her fingers extended to clasp his. In response, Henry brushed her hand away with a touch of force. “This is not who we are.” 

 

With a pivot on the heel of his boot, the Novellen executed an abrupt about-face, emitting an air of indifference as he sauntered purposefully toward the wooden door. The door's heavy thud, a manifestation of his abrupt departure, reverberated through the Ruthern's mind, leaving an indelible impression. A poignant understanding welled within her, an intuition that whispered to her soul, conveying that his exit was not a fleeting absence but an irrevocable departure, and he would not retrace his steps.

 

 

As the relentless march of time carried on, more months whisked by for the Ruthern, slipping through her grasp like grains of sand in an hourglass. Still, she remained within the very tavern where Henry had parted ways with her some time ago. In the depths of her heart, an unwavering hope persisted, perhaps an illusion, that he might one day reappear. This ceaseless vigil for his return became an agonising obsession that gnawed at her sanity.

 

In the midst of this torment, a mysterious and debilitating illness gradually coiled itself around her, constricting both mind and body. It clung to her vigorously, defying all efforts to be dislodged. This cruel affliction inflicted a terrible disadvantage upon her, as she grew increasingly frail and incapacitated, rendering her utterly incapable of embarking on the journey back to her distant homelands. It was a sombre fate that awaited Franziska, languishing in the tavern's dimly lit confines, her heart weighed down by the heavy cloak of despair, destined to pass away with no company or prayers, an enigma of her own making.

 

Her violently disturbed mind pondered to her twin brother, unbeknownst to his current turmoil. He had written an array of letters addressed to his sister, all unopened or lost. 

 

In memoriam of my twin,  

 

The horrors of this world, I’ve seen with my own eye so much it irreparably damaged it. How could suffering blind me to light? Amalgamations of abominations, men and women who have lost their soul, does God make this world truly for the right?

 

I carry Archangel Michael’s will, but if I stay gallant, brave and honorbound, will I still be the force of good in this benighted world? To send those who seek destruction and hate, but what of those misguided, am I to send them to the underworld?

 

Would life be any different, if my blood stayed blue?

My years of suffering, anger, tears and abandonment, if forgiven would they still make me true?

 

The unfamiliar, dim confines of her icy room seemed to assail her fragile form, as if rebelling against her, and they compelled her to recline involuntarily. Franziska’s chestnut, inky tresses cascaded back onto the sweaty surface of the pillow. As the final vestiges of her resolve waned, a solitary, almost mournful sigh escaped her lips, signalling her surrender to the luminous, overwhelming spectacle before her...

 

 

[Herod 802]

A warrior at heart,

A radiant Knight to others,

Knelt and wept for his lost twin, his other half.

If only life could’ve been easier for them, they would both live full lives of happiness and joy, without overburdening duties and trauma.

 

 

“If only.”