Dear Father,

[trinn 5143]

An Open Letter.
⊰━━━━⊱༒︎ •✦• ༒︎⊰━━━━⊱

 

HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Tiberias I of the House Horen

⊰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⊱༒︎ •✦• ༒︎⊰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⊱

 

 

 

Dear Father, It is a strange thing to be born an Emperor’s daughter. I am thusly born into the splendour of your labour, a name bestowed as testament of your victories. Your hand as it has cradled mine and mine lady mother’s, and your very hand as well which has brought empire from rubble and ruin. But father, it has been my privilege to be your daughter alone; not as princess to the Empire, but solely a daughter beloved. I do not have Hadrian’s burden of expectation, a brow heavy with dignities. Nor Maximillian’s penchant for command. Neither, as well, my twin’s desire for early demise. Either by your own will or another’s, you have generously turned your cheek away from my lack of partaking in your Imperial court. Therefore, you will find in me, perhaps, the leisure robbed of your own life.  Father, I have seen the grey mountains upon our horizon. So grey from the distance of our towers, but blossomed vivid green in my journey thereafter. I have seen a temple upon white mountains, a flame upon the snow. A whisper in the fields, golden as my mother’s hair. It is peace, father, that I wish we could have shared - but it is peace willfully gifted, a privilege I cannot return.  Dear Father, it is a strange thing for a daughter to stand on the eclipse of her father’s life. The Empire will not know you as I have. Not through broken pastries snuck across tables, nor shared stories in gentle nights. Neither as the man whom guided my first steps, the man which tended to monsters beneath my beds.  Father, who do you think it is that Hadrian sees upon those coronation steps — his father, or his emperor? Perhaps to him, both are one and the same. I wonder if he, too, I will learn to see as both brother and emperor, or perhaps I will struggle to separate him from his ordained duty. Selfishly, in him I hope I will see you in times when you are long past. Yet, as we live now, celebration becomes opportune, that I might see him ascend as he is, and my father beside. God willing, the road back will be kind and without trouble, but I have sent ahead the portraits I have made of yourselves in the case that it is not. A coronation is a happy day; though I lose a brother, the Empire gains a good man.

 

With Love,

Joan Mariana Horen.

 

⊰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⊱༒︎ •✦• ༒︎⊰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⊱

 

HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Hadrian I of the House Horen

 

 

⊰━━━━⊱༒︎ •✦• ༒︎⊰━━━━⊱

 

Spoiler

 

thank you nectorist for looking over my writing and smmer for the art feedback, low quality everything but the rendered faces cuz i spat it in a day 

good luck to ww to becoming NL : ) big thanks to tide for his run, i got to boot up my first warclaim commands during your reign

@Tide1 @Werew0lf

 

 

[Werew0lf 24181]

“A good man,” he leaned against the balcony of his chambers. With tired, dreary eyes, and a cold lifeless snare, the prince — soon to be Emperor — gazed out towards the city of Rittersberg. 
 

His table was littered by numerous books and scrolls; official statements, finances, privy meeting notes, issues, vassal conflicts — scarcely did he find a letter from many of his personal matter, outside of one brother. 
 

Hadrian coughed violently; blood undulate from his lips and splattered against the floor. The prince choked violently on his saliva, and thick red veins sponged through his pitiful gaze. 
 

He stumbled onto his bed and collapsed; the sound alerted one of the knights outside, and they called others to be tended by the physicians. 
 

The world knew it: he was not a good man. 

[Tide1 4535]

Dearest Joan. You have lived a life I never knew. From grey mountains to verdant fields, have your skies remained ever blue. And that is all I have ever wanted. You were a blessing borne late into this life, and perhaps unbeknownst to you, the one I have cherished most. To provide for you the life I was robbed, has been a source of pride and joy, a life in which I now set my first foot. I pray I am still here when you return; that I shall provide for you once more a home.

 

You have painted me as seen by few; loving and caring. And I know by the stroke of your brush that I have succeeded in my aspirations for you, my dearest daughter. I shall miss you.

 

- - - 

 

That Hadrian sees in me a proud father, not an expecting sire, I can only hope. For his unfortunate birth, I have not dared to love him as a father should. For fear of losing again that which is closest to me, I buried him in tasks that would have killed an ordinary boy of his vitality. Yet my son has prevailed, and I fear that I have raised a man eerily competent at what he does.

When I place upon his brow the crown, I pray that he accepts the love that I have owed him, and the divine blessing that I have long withheld.

 

Be there for him when I am not. A reminder that there is more to life than the throne.

 

With Love,

Tiberias I Horen.

 

Such was the letter that the Emperor sent back to his daughter. Split in twain, it bore both promise and forboding, satisfaction and regret.

[Stag 3230]

((Really glad this wasn’t a hate post towards me being a bad dad))