The Widow | A POV Post

[tadabug2000 4918]

The Baroness of Brasca, donned in mourning blacks after the death of her husband.

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The widow peered upon her recently finished home.

Thirty-seven years of age, married all of two years and in war for a majority of the time she’d been alive.

Her first memory was of running about the refugee camps at the edges of Aaun with her eldest brother, Istvan. They chased after a Goat, intent on capturing the animal.

And then her next primary memory was the end of the world as she knew it, and she and her family traded one refugee camp for another; Savoy.

Brutality. Grief. Horror.

It all became a never-ending cycle in the Ivanovich life.

The next place she’d come to be with her family is Aaun, building up their community of Raevirs in the Duchy of Stran.

She was warded off in what felt like a moment, and then she was moving again, this time to Whitespire in which she lived in their palace and wondered what her family was doing now.

And then another move. This one her choice.

She’d come to fall in love with a man, his heart large, his smile jovial.

George Marc af Brasca.

They’d met through letter and familial connection initially, letters that have faded with how many times she has read them over, clutched close in hand.

He’d eventually come to ask to court her, and was given three trials and three trials he did.

And so she married him, bore four beautiful children and fostered three more.

And then he was dead just like that, cruelly taken by the machinations of Deadmunds deadmen.

The very next day, a light shown in the form of a man she’d only spoken to once or twice before then.

Sir Gaspard van Aert, Captain-General of Veletz.

He came with his men, riding into her late husbands lands, and speaking of a promise he made to her now late husband. He will protect Viktoria, and their children in the event of an untimely death.

So they left, packing what little they could carry upon their back.

Only later would she hear that Petra heard of the happenings, believing the harried widow to have been kidnapped and thus opted to do nothing upon this belief.

Their visit was meant to be temporary, until it wasn’t. Veletz provided a home, one welcoming to both her and her children - it provided safety, happiness, something more that she’d never thought to seek out.

Some years passed, and her smiles grew more frequent, watching her children grow and begin to come into their own.

And then war came again. One she wished not for her children to see.

A siege. And now another.

Those of the Covenant sought to take the newly gotten home from a widow and her seven children.

And thus the widow, with a heart aching in sorrow and pain, broke her promise.

One promised to her mother so many years ago.

One to never pick up a blade, nor a weapon.

And a sword rose, sharp and weighing heavy in her hands.

“For vy, y dzieckos, y will fight.”

 

Spoiler

Just a lil POV post! This isn't known IRP unless you've been told or otherwise!

 

 

[Lechian Lord 1027]

A mustached man would be seen fishing off the southeast waters, murmuring to himself about undead.