A LIFE IN LETTERS (PK)

[amyselia 2962]

Spoiler

OOC NOTE: These are real letters Rosceline has sent via aviary; two were unsent, and one or two have been created to fill some gaps in context. Some of them might seem random because they lack context. All the journal entries were written in real-time as Rosceline’s story unraveled and her personality developed - those were stored in a separate google doc, so I thought to include them here. There is a lot of her life’s detail left out simply because it wasn’t written down, which I feel is realistic. Hope y’all enjoy this historian’s perspective into my character’s life. Interestingly, this is my first PK post ever, after 7 years of characters.

 

Thank you to everyone who made this character so fun; there’s too many people to list, and I extend this even unto her most despised enemies, and all those on the other side of the war. . . I would like to invite an adequate amount of admiration unto all of you (no weird shit).

 

The following records are delivered to the Imperial Crown Princess Elizabeth via courier,

enclosed within a box and enveloped in cloth-of-gold,

 sealed in the Crest of Rouen & of Waldemer.

 

1

 

A SELECTION OF COPIES AND ORIGINALS 

FROM THE PRIVATE RECORDS OF ROSCELINE OF ARYN

 

2009 - 2044

 

 

2

Spoiler

A drawing by Rosceline depicting Jane of Dover (left) and herself,

Date unknown, likely sometime around 2025-2026.

 

THE LAST ARYN, 2023

To Lord Richold de Rouen,

GOD be with you and keep your spirits. I suffer to inform you of the loss of Lord Thomas of Aryn & his good wife the Lady Catherine, along with their young son, the Lord Aaron, to the Banardian plague. They breathed their last on this saint’s eve, bleak under the stone of their manor homestead.

Preserved from illness by her sequestering within mine abbey, their eldest, a dovelike child Rosceline, has been entrusted unto you by wish of the late Lord in his final moments. The girl shall arrive at the Castle of Bourdon by Vespers; I beg you greet her with kindness, for she has hardly spoken a word in grief. I am ill and unable to brave the journey, yet GOD willing we shall meet again to discuss matters.

 

With prayers for your continuing good health,

Mother Eadburh, Abbess of Gorchunoir.

 

ACROSS THE SEA, 2023

To the Most High and Revered Mother by My Heart,

 

I am relieved to hear word of your recovery, and shall forever be apologetic for failing to nurse you by mine own hand. I hope I am not wrong to assume that Lord Robert has informed you of oure safe arrival, and of the unfortunate passing of Lord Richold, whom was the kindest to me, and so I shall cherish his memory. 

We have been host by a pleasant Duke Edward of Alba in a quaint Castle, though admittedly this land is no Banardie. I’m afraid I have likely disappointed you by remaining reticent to conversation. The nephews de Rouen have thus been ungraceful towards me, but the Lord himself has been accommodating. 

I vow to continue working towards self-confidence; I shall make a life in Aevos worthy of Aryn, one that you can be proud of.

 

I eagerly await to hear of my sisters and yourself,

Rose, your most humble daughter.

 

TO TASTE THE BLOOD OF SAVOIE

A JOURNAL ENTRY, 2025

At the first Court of His Majesty’s new Kingdom, Lord Roger and his brutes seized one brother de Savoie and slew him in cold blood. I had made an attempt to stop Lord Roger from committing this slaughter before the King and Queen, but instead, the man’s blood splattered all over my face whence his head was chopped from him before me. On oure painfully silent return to Casquenova, Lord Roger gave me no apology, nor did he address me with a single word. I am beginning to realize whom I have been mandated to treat with, and that I must brace myself for the violence to come. How easily his head was cut from him; how easily does skin and bone break beneath the swing of a heavy sword. I must remain wary, for my woman’s neck is more fragile than that Savoie's.

 

PREPARATIONS. 2026

1) Dearest Siena,

We will be requiring a stock of liqueurs and hard ales for the event of mine and Lord Roger’s matrimony, to be held in a range of one to two saint’s weeks from hence. I am delegating this task to you to do with as you see fit. Whether you should like to contract a brewsmith or concoct a mixture of your own, I am sure your taste is to par. Someday, I would love to recover the tastes of Savoy, but time is not with us.

Please outfit the beverages in a barrel for ease, and write when completed.

P.S. I should like to speak with you about the man you were making eyes at… Over wine, mayhaps.

 

With love in earnest,

Rosceline.

 

2) To the Good and Honored Duke Edward his most High Grace,

I write to announce to you the forthcoming event of matrimony between myself and the Lord Roger of Drusco, and to ask your aid in contracting a minstrel or otherwise a bard for the festivities, to be held in a range of one to two saint’s weeks from hence. I should like to have music fill the chamber of reception, yet have little knowledge of the revered players of this land.

I would be most grateful for the extension of your smooth and supple hand.

 

With great reverence and prayer for thine health,

Lady Rosceline de Aryn.

 

A MERCY, 2026

To the Most High King of the Adunians, 

I write to you the plea of a lowly woman at risk of debasing mine own virtue by sin of greed. To your Grace I intimate that I shall soon be wed to Lord Roger Rouen, whom I am not so senseless as to call a man held in esteem by your subjects. I fear for the conflict that brews among you men of hardened zeal; I weep for the souls facing death in the rivalry of Us against the beloved of Louis Savoie; and highest all - I beg that My Lord be kept for me, that GOD exchange my suffering for his life. 

I humble myself before you to ask that you grant the honor of speaking to you beside the Lady of Louis Savoie, so further bloodshed might be abated by mine appeal.

 

With gentle hand,

Lady Rosceline de Aryn.

 

ANORHIL, ARDIRNIEN

A JOURNAL ENTRY, 2026

Numendil wants My Lord’s head, and I cannot allow it. I may have been shaking at the bone, but I must protect my position, and my folk. I arranged to meet with Princess Ardirnien alongside her father, yet the meeting went poorly. It is mine understanding that they want blood at any cost for the Savoie. I admit that I grow to resent Adunians, especially Ardirnien, whom I regard a lost woman; how garish is their worship of Harren, tongues silver and full of spite for those who do not descend from his sinner’s blood. Where I hold sympathy for the Princess’s position, she makes herself small by her ravenous grief, so this sympathy is adjacent to fear. Perhaps someday, she shall see the light of Julia’s virtue, and we might reconcile.

 

AN ARRANGEMENT, 2027

To the Good Lord John of Balamena,

I beseech you to entreat with me, that you may be gently introduced to the Lady Melisende de Bruges, cousin of my beloved Roger. I offer her to you as a candidate for marriage, that you might be bound to the blood of Roger, for you are goodly of judgment and I would dovetail your person to us in perpetuity. Lady de Bruges is fair of face and character, and wields adequate charisma. She shall surely pose a good wife to you.

I would like for you to personally assess her and determine if you should like me to write to your father with this request.

 

With earnest good-will,

Lady Rosceline de Rouen.

 

HAWKING,

AN INVITATION SENT UNTO LADY JANE, LADY MADELIEF, THE LADIES ELIZABETH & ELISABETH OF BALAMENA AND PREUSSENS, & THE LADY VASILIA, 

2027

To the Good Lady,

I beseech you to entreat with me in a private event of hawking this 11th of Tobias’ Bounty, wherein you shall enjoy the company of a few other invited ladies of high Burgundian noblesse. I would be delighted to further oure acquaintance, and discover what aims have you for your path forward.

 

With earnest good-will,

Lady Rosceline de Rouen.

 

JOHN & MELISENDE, 2027

To the Good and Honored Duke Edward his most High Grace,

My Lord & Myself have pondered a means by which to solidify these binds of friendship that were so tenderly enfeoffed by your gracious host of oure men in the Castle Casquenova. We have lovingly taken with Lord John whilst he was ward beneath oure walls, and in this time witnessed his intention to marry the Lady Melisende de Bruges, cousine to Roger. 

We would be pleased if you could make approval of this marriage, and if expressed - set a date in which we may discuss and put to pen the marriage contract for this eventual union, as per Ashford custom.

 

With great reverence and prayer for thine health,

Lady Rosceline de Rouen.

 

BEAUMONT’S CHARITY, 2028

To the Fair Miss Anne de Beaumont,

I write regarding the jule token you had claimed of My Lord and I on the event of oure wedding, regarding the establishment of your foundation. I would love to speak more as to this, so I might fulfill this pledge. Do allow me the awareness of a favored date and location for oure meeting.

 

With earnest good-will,

Lady Rosceline de Rouen.

 

AN ABBEY AT DRUSCO

A JOURNAL ENTRY, 2028

Despite Numendil’s reluctance to stake their peace on our offered concessions, I should like if an Abbey were to be erected in oure lands. It would boast of oure wealth and esteem, raise reverence to GOD’s faith, and be a means for me to escape this lonesome Castle. After having met the Sister Alexandra by chance, I grow hopeful to accomplish this. I shall pen her a letter to request that she construct her abbey within our lands.

 

HOLY SISTER, 2028

To the Good Sister Alexandra,

I beseech you to entreat with me over a meal of wine, wherein we may discuss the plans I had vaguely raised on oure introduction. I would welcome you to oure Castle, so we might make fair acquaintances.

 

With earnest good-will,

Lady Rosceline de Rouen.

 

3

Spoiler

A painting by Rosceline depicting herself in the center and also in the left in conversation with Father Drusco, and an unknown scheming figure to the right, possibly representing an Adunian.

Date unknown, likely sometime around 2030-2034.

 

PILGRIMAGE

A JOURNAL ENTRY, 2029

As a favor on a jule token, I was requested to go on Pilgrimage by the mercurial Holy Man Saignat. By GOD’s grace, this pilgrimage occurred in tandem with mine enceinte, where I traversed the ruins and settlements of Humanity’s great collapse and reinvigoration, the weight of my son within filling me with holy light on every step. By silence and flame, my soul has been brought before Him to become a servant of his most righteous truths. He has called on me to embody the Saintess Julia in all mine acts, and so I shall be; stalwart unto my faith, undying with reverence for my husband and children, and unbending from conviction. Here is my glory, and with it shall I die.

 

AMBROSIA, 2029

To the Favored Miss Ambrosia,

I would be delighted to entreat with you over wine. I have recently been delivered of a summer child, and would be delighted for you to accompany my churching, where you might then wine with me for the first time since fruit blossomed in my heart.

I look forward to being made privy to your most recent exploits.

 

With earnest good-will,

Lady Rosceline de Rouen.

 

HAND OF ESFIR

A JOURNAL ENTRY, 2030

The aged Esfir Artimisia, the former Duchess d’Arkent, was captured and brought as a hostage to Waldemer by oure men, after some skirmish against the orcs to a purpose I know not. I begged mercy that the aging woman might commit to taking the cloth in penance for her dissent against the church, for she somewhat reminded me of Mother Eadburh, rest her soul. However, Esfir refused, and in anger for her derision, I recklessly worsened the punishment, severing the crone’s whole hand instead of the few fingers Roger had originally demanded. In truth, I was shaken by the affair, but with retrospect, I can not be so tolerant to heretics and the unrepentant. GOD wills sin be brought to hark, and I recognize that my power to accomplish thus lies in the blood struck by my husband’s strength. Amidst violence unending, I have become near unflinching to the sight of wounds - fresh or festering. I must pray that this be LUCIEN’s blessing, and nay EVERARD’s curse.

 

JANE, 2031 (Unsent)

To My Sister in Good Tidings,

I have received the invitation to the event of your wedding, yet I must sorrowfully relent that I am unable to attend, for my dear Geoffrey sits at the brink of death from the weakness of his lungs, and I am sick with worry. The sound of battle never ending against oure walls, sieges won and others scantily survived, have forced me to fall into hiding for the protection of my young sons. Whence the men of Avistra are brought to heel, I shall waste no time in traversing towards Alba to bestow a cutting of thyme unto you, that it might inspire your fecundity as it has mine.

 

With love and gracious prayer for your continued prosperity,

Lady Rosceline de Rouen.

 

PRESERVED NOTES: draft for god emerges to the eshaenveurd, c.2032

this tapestry alludes to little but symbols and pictures, i will be more illuminative. 

draft 1: 

In the camp of the Eshaenveurd, the snow dancedshifted with a glisten of their landscape. It fell gingerly as autumn leaves, purring as it landed against the working backs of the ashen ashford? men. Sergius is pictured shuffling through the camp, listening to the muffled hum of busiwork: logs whistling as they were carried toward homes to be erected, ashborn tots weeping for their mother’s teat, a batch of fresh minnow being stripped of skin by a harkstone knife. . .

 

A WARFEAST, 

INVITATIONS UNTO THREE

2036

1) To His Most Noble Highness, Prince Hadrian,

With humble duty and great joy, I extend to your Highness and familiars an invitation to a wine tasting held in your honor, to take place on the eve of Sun’s Smile within the Great Hall of Waldemer. There shall be music, fine meats and sweetmeats, and joyful intimate company in celebration of your Highness for your graceful handling of oure war with Avistra.

 

With deepest respect and loyalty,

Lady Rosceline

 

2) To the Esteemed Lady Elizabeth of Balamena,

I pray this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. It is with sincere pleasure that I extend to you and your familiars an invitation to a wine tasting to be held on the eve of Sun’s Smile, within the Great Hall of Castle Waldemer. Your presence would greatly honor us, for your sweetness and grace are ever a welcome light among oure gathering. May I hope for the favor of your company?

 

With warm regards and utmost respect,

Lady Rosceline

 

3) Dearest Jane,

I pray I find you in contentment. I lovingly extend to you an invitation to a private wine tasting held in honour of Prince Hadrian on the eve of Sun’s Smile, within the Great Hall of Castle Waldemer. It is my hope that during the course of the evening, the Lady Elizabeth and His Highness may come to know one another more warmly. Discretion in this matter is, of course, understood and appreciated.

 

With warm regards and utmost respect,

Lady Rosceline

 

LADY SILIS

A JOURNAL ENTRY, 2034

I understand now that Geoffrey’s difficult labor so long ago has rendered my soul bereft of good soil - unable to bear fruit. It is a too-obvious reality given mine fragility after his birth. I grow desperate for more children to fill the loneliness of my world, and have fallen to prayer to our ancestress, the fecund Lady Silis, whom I revere as a patroness of Ashford, a woman who held faith and humility even as traitors raised doubt to her strength simply because she was not a warrior. I have seen her in mydreams, where she has given me an epiphany that I should sire children through all the lines of Ashford, and these should be mine, for I am their highest lady. I shall do my best; we shall not falter by mine inability.

 

ASHFORD BINDS, 2036

Lord Lucien,

It is with careful thought and due regard for your station that I write to inform you of a match I have arranged on your behalf. The lady is Miss Maude Helvets, sister to the Baron of Owynsburg. She is well-bred, steady of character, and possessed of a dowry that befits your house. I trust you will find the match both advantageous and timely, for this season of our elevation calls for strong alliances made real only by a wealth of heirs. I await your reply.

 

Lady Rosceline de Rouen

 

CHAPLAIN, 2038

To the Faithful Father Mattia,

I received your letter with all due regard and would be pleased to speak further on the matter. If it suit you, you may come to Waldemer on any Compline this coming month, and we shall take oure talk in the parlor. 

 

I remain, in the meantime, your servant in courtesy and care.

Lady Rosceline of Aryn

 

A STUDY OF ASHFORD CUSTOMS, 2038

To the Learned Lady Lucrezia of Rovare,

My Lady, your interest honours me, and I would welcome the chance to share what may be of use to you. If you would join me for supper this coming month of Sun’s Smile at Waldemer, we might speak at length and in comfort. Until then, I remain yours in grace and goodwill.

 

Lady Rosceline of Aryn

 

4

Spoiler

A detail from a painting depicting Rosceline high upon the dais of Waldemer’s Great Hall, commissioned before the onset of the devastating war,

Dated 2042.

 

GRIM NEWS, 2040

1) To the Merciful Archduke & Archduchess of Drusco,

It is with a solemn heart that I must write to you with the news of your cherished son’s death. Where we thought his infection tempered, in truth it seems to have been fighting a battle from within, to which your son has today succumbed, this 9th of the Sun’s Smile, 2040, within the Walls of Middelbroke tower. GOD shall punish me for mine incompetence. I beg the forgiveness of the Madam Drusco, for I have failed her beloved Raymond.

 

Tancred, Physician of Waldemer

 

2) This delivered unto several persons.

‡ To ye, Sister of Ashford, Daughter of Silis,

I write to inform that mine eldest son, Raymond, has succumbed to an infection wrought from the hunt. Do not send words of pity nor condolences, I do not need it. I simply require your presence in the walls of Waldemer this coming month of Harren’s Folley. If you are otherwise disposed, pretend that you have not seen this letter.

 

Lady Rosceline of Aryn

 

RAYMOND, GEOFFREY

A JOURNAL ENTRY, 2040

Raymond’s death has sent ripples through my soul, fashioning a hole so profound that prayer and fasting have not dulled this ache after months. A cloud of grief at constant linger has made it impossible to resume the facade I have heretofore upheld, this feigned grace and good humour. I imagine this shall be the end of many friendships I have made, for I can no longer hold a smile for those whom I suspect seek to drive a dagger through my Lord’s shoulder, and equally my last son’s. I must protect and uplift Geoffrey by any means.  Julia and I shall soon convene on the altar of the Saintess, and there beg for the blossoming of a child. There can be no more mistakes.

 

A SERMON OF GOOD TIDINGS, 2041 (Unsent)

‡ To the Good and Virtuous Father Tyria,

I write to inform you that I have become with child, by the Grace of GOD and submission to the altar of my lady Silis and her Saintess Julia, the Holy Queen of Paradisus. For fear of this blessed gift’s early perish, I beseech you good priest to perform a sermon for the village, wherein I intend to make a generous donation to the church for safekeep of mine and my lord husband’s soul, and, too, shall invite others to do the same.

Allow me the time of your choosing and we shall make it so.

 

May the Exalted guide you,

Lady Rosceline of Aryn

 

AN EXCHANGE OF WARDS, 2041

‡ My lovely Jane,

May this letter find you in health and favor beneath God’s good hand.

It is my wish, if it pleases you, to receive your noble daughter Margaret into myhousehold for the course of the summer, that she might dwell here as my ward. I would see her instructed in the gentle arts, in the keeping of a lady’s house, and in the customs of court, that she may be better fitted for the station she shall one day hold. She shall want for nothing under my roof, and I would treat her with all the affection of a kinswoman.

 

Your favorable answer I await with great hope.

Rose.

 

REPROOF, 2042

‡ To Lecelina,

I speak with grief and ache whence I write this; you have betrayed your blood, culture, faith, family, and you have betrayed yourself. By your reckless disclosure of words said in rage, you willingly signed away all honour and fidelity one could avow unto you, and I can do naught but weep.

Come before us in sincerity, and let us remedy this wrong. You are at the heart of a war waged against your own people. I beg that you see reason, that you return to your family on bent knee and beg their forgiveness, else we shall be forced to extradite your name and all the rights endowed to you by its bearing, for ASHFORD does not tolerate acts of perfidy. 

 

Lady Rosceline.

 

BESET, 2043

‡ To my beloved Elizabeth,

I dearly miss your warming presence, sister in light of Julia. My daughter has been born to me this past year, and I am most eager to introduce you to this child, my blossom of goodness. I wish to hear of you, and how you fare in your married life. Perhaps I might visit the palace for a time with Gisela whilst this war rages on. I don’t intend to remain sequestered - yet I must for her sake. 

 

With you, at least there shall be providence.

With fond amity,

Rose.

 

5

A LETTER ATTACHED FOR HIH THE DUCHESS OF GRENSE

@brujera

 

Beloved Elizabeth,

 

I write goodbye to you now, for GOD has called that this day shall be my last.

Here, I invest all accoutrements of mine appreciation unto you for your unbridled consideration and support over these past two years of humbling loss, and over the past fifteen years and more of friendship that I have cherished with you, Beth, esteemed Princess. Outside my window, your husband commands a garrison of soldiers and half-elves ready to besiege Waldemer, and take with it all these memories, all these hopes and promises that I have sustained within oure Ashborn folk since I was but a shy little girl with nary a possible idea of the life GOD had designed for me.

When I had not yet reached nineteen summers, I recall soothing Lady Vasilia in her lament of Sigismund’s dethronement. I had told her that we would never fight a cause against the Church; that Pontifical power was supreme, that Lucien guided us and hence so does Callahan . . . What a foolish girl I was then, without a single doubt of anyone’s goodness - believing that Light shall always prevail if only we knew that we were righteous.

Yet I cannot regret. In the way of oure ancestors, we have fought bravely and in the end, bowed to none but GOD; to no man but the blood of Ashford. So it is that mine only bitterness is in allowing betrayal and chaos to fester within mine own home. How blindly did I allow oure blood to be poisoned by the malfeasance of trust. Trust given where it was never earned, given unto those that would chase self-interest to their brethren’s collapse. If I should give you any final advice, even should I be in no position to give it, I beg that you be sparse with this destructive goodwill, the avowance of trust.

I hear the voices outside rising, so it seems the battle shall soon begin. I will be leaving all material possessions unto Julia, and to you, I leave as many records of my life as the courier can smuggle. Sister, do not allow oure son to seek revenge at the cost of his life, he must live for me, for my soul shall be broken to lose another, unable to rise to the seven skies. The wet nurse is preparing to port Gisela across the seas to raise as her own until such a time as it is safe for her to be disclosed of her lineage. Should that day come, I have arranged that she shall be delivered to you and you alone, and I hope that you shall cede these records to her keeping. [Here, the writing becomes scratchy and uncontrolled, the stain of tears blurring some words.] 

My little Gisela shall never know her mother, but at least she can glimpse at pages giving faint hints of who she was. As my last wish, I beg: if she ever comes before you, allow me the mercy of telling her that beyond all her mother’s flaws and all her failures, that she was good, and that she so loved her. Tell her that I’m sorry, and that I shall greet her in the Seven Skies when she is old and ready.

My dearest Elizabeth. You will be the greatest Empress, for you are among the highest women. I go now with my Lord Husband, for beside him shall always be my place. When we meet God, I shall speak to him of you, dear friend.

 

Remember me.

Rose.

 

[brujera 1152]

The Crown Princess of Man mourned silently within the walls of Castle Tiberian, as she put her quill to parchment. After a travail of hours, the Princess stood from her writing desk, a letter penned and sealed with an Alban rose held in her grasp. Elizabeth brought the ivory parchment to her lips, planting a kiss upon it. At once, she lanced it into the flames of her fireplace, the fire and brimstone burning her last words to her dearly beloved Rosceline.

 

"The aenguls weep for their Princess now ascended."

[Lasombruh 612]

Istvan stood over the body of Rosceline laid in the center of the courtly chamber, stabbed, bloodied and drained. Dead. Dreadful though it was to bear witness, there was a measure of peace seen now in her features as her spirit ventured beyond the veil into somewhere else. Heaven? Hell? He couldn't ever know, only wondering as he stared down upon her features that still held some youth in them yet. Before he left that room never to see her again he kneeled down with a frown and traced the backside of his fingertips across her bloodied cheek. It was smooth. Still warm. 

 

Such a pity. This is goodbye then. You were. . . more tolerable to me than most. I will remember that. I will remember you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some time later the Crow did return, finding the Archduchess' grave. He eyed the stone with a cold neutrality, and atop it he placed a singular coin which she had given him some handful of years prior in exchange for some menial task. He had taken it as an insult then and hated her for it. In the end it was just a coin, and hers was just another life.

[The King Of The Moon 7016]

Spoiler

 

 

[hopey 364]

Lecelina’s direful eyes beseeched the obscure horizon, chasing the burgeoning darkness that swiftly heeded the sky. A listless arm ventured beyond the confinement of the palace’s window, the breeze catching her cotton cuffs. A simplistic, charmless bracelet hugged her wrist —a token the venerable Archduchess bestowed on the lady moments after her act of disloyalty. Though paltry silver, it weighed densely on her wrist and singed her skin like a thousand roaring fires…

“You are an Ashford.”

Words from the dutiful Lady Rosceline; a blunt austerity that pestered Celina ceaselessly. Only could she describe such a strife as the burden of failure, for she felt the furthest from an Ashford. Dismally would she prolong in life, the bond of kin hanging frail by a precarious thread. When the time came to pray, the bygone Ashford would weep to the Seven Skies for forgiveness... a plea in hopes to repent for her infidelity to those once kindred to her. Only cumbersome silence would confide in her.

[subatomic 1497]

Spoiler

such an awesome post

 

[tasty_cheesecake 2298]

Enrique stood over a makeshift funeral pyre he made at the foot of the dais, on the spot where Roger Lezarde had been beheaded. As his flaming longsword ignited the detritus scattered about the corpses and he begun the issuance of last rites, he saw the Lady Drusco fall next to her husband. The Cardinal was old, and bereft of sympathy for the plight of Roger’s wife, simply shuffling over to issue last rites once more, and add another corpse to the rising fire that soon turned the Ashfords to ashes.

[nunlover 579]

Lucien Raymond Ashford de Brionnes feasts with the fellow Druscans, serving his lieges even in the skies. "Ave Drusca, Praise thee Saint Roger and Rosceline."  He praised the newly welcomed Archduchess.

[MonteGiant 891]

Rodrigo would remember naught of a fondness with the memory of such a battle and its aftermath, its carnage, the fury he engaged himself in. His shining Tuksina of Starsteel would be stained in the crimson ichor of Rosceline of Drusco, his mistake of misreading the events that were occurring with the woman. . . He impaled her, having shoved his broadsword within the very back of the woman as a dagger was inserted into her throat. He would not clean his blade, this stain of his error would stay.

[MunaZaldrizoti 8037]

Julia lingered within the abandoned, charred walls of Castle Waldemer for some days yet, seeking to recover what she could of her former lady's personal affects. Another promising leader, her light snuffed out before reaching her apex. It seemed to be the way of their cruel world.

 

There was some irony in this gruesome end. All the men and women of Drusco had often cheered 'Blood for Ashford' - now it was their own blood that soaked the tumbled stones of their once-mighty fortress. The only ichor they had been awarded with was their own, spilt upon the ruins of their success.

[Maiyun 362]

Remembrance of Rosceline found Ardirnien in the midst of one of many, many celebratory glasses of wine shared with her people.

 

Young, she had been, when she lost her lover. Younger still had been the Lady Rosceline, drawn into a conflict in a bid to protect the one she loved. Arriving in the capital of a kingdom that surely despised her for the actions of her Roger, and yet made every meek and kindly attempt to quell the rage of those in the room. Words like salt rubbing into fresh wounds, a cry for peace, and the end of bloodshed. The end of bloodshed, laughable, that it was accompanied by a lack of consequences for her grief! How dare they do this to her? How dare she appear before Ardirnien contrite and convinced in the madness of culling to Savoyard unity? Ardirnien had known then, and she conceded in a moment of gallows humor, that the best day of her life certainly would be the worst of Rosceline's. There was no other option, for the cost of her soul and salvation was the same actions that would make of the young bride a widow.

Still, she had not imagined that day would also be her last. 

 

What was the crime of Rosceline, truly? In that she was a dutiful bride, a mother, and a woman born into a structure that did not allow her to seek station above such? Perhaps she did not need it. Perhaps the Lady Rosceline was content in what she had acquired, in maintaining warm friendships and high standing among those of the empire, evidenced by the desperate pleas of her companions during the execution. She wondered, then, at her own accuracy in providing such a distasteful wedding gift. Fated truly to tear the other apart in artful, painful survival. 

 

She swirled the contents of her glass around once more, watching again with that same expression of morbid amusement to the way the crimson liquid clung in faint stain to the shimmering crystal. A heavy sigh escaped her, souring the taste of jubilation that had arrived with the crowing of soldiers around her. 

 

There was nothing to be done, on her part. Ardirnien was neither a friend to the woman, nor a relative. They had spoken maybe twice, in all the years of their tangled, twisted connection. In fact, any movement to claim some of the tragedy as her own would be crass at best. Allow those who loved Rosceline to abide her memory, to plant a grave of her hopes and dreams and water them with stories of what might have been.

She raised her glass, downing the remainder of the contents in a silent toast to the departed. 

 

[Plausifraunz 361]

Arya Altwegg sat within the keep of Wing's Crest. She had recalled that Rosceline had been the only person to have properly stood up for her during her captivity. Set aside Roger, who found it best to rectify the actions of his soldier, she found it best to stand against them. If there was ever a person she had not detested amongst the courtiers and people of Drusco, perhaps it was her and Roger alone. 

 

When the Marquess of Avistra was informed, a heavy sigh left her. "May GOD guide her soul. A woman worthy of her titles, worthy of the name she made for herself. Taken too soon." 

 

Candles were lit in the halls of Wing's Crest by Arya herself, who had taken to pray for the life of Rosceline of Drusco.