SON OF THE EMPIRE

[kuerbis 3802]

 

 

Issued and averred by the office of the

IMPERIAL CROWN

 

 ✠ HEED, LEAL SONS OF HOREN;

Let it be known that in the quiet hours of the night on the 2nd of Sun's Smile 639, Her Imperial Highness, Valentiná of Asturias has been delivered of a healthy secondborn, born of the lawful union with His Imperial Highness, Marcus Tiberias Horen. 

The Princess was attended by the good Court Alchemist, Lady Manon, who ensured that both mother and child were well. Princess Joan, Princess Lecelina and Lady Vivienne Devereux kept the Crown Princess company and were of support to her. The child, a son, is found to be most healthy and extraordinarily strong, albeit extremely plump.

Princess Valentina, though wearied by her labors, is sound of body and mind, and thus expected to make a swift recovery after a short period of rest. The Imperial Household calls upon all faithful subjects of the Empire to keep mother and son in their prayers for the coming days. 

Presented Before the Court…

HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS, Hannibal Valerian of House Horen, Prince of the Empire and of Burgundy, Duke of Myrfeld

@ninjaclimb1

AVE IMPERIUM!

 

Spoiler

 

...

There they were again, amidst a widening circle of flames stood a tall man, raven-haired, his eyes catching the firelight in shades of verdant green. His sword was already drawn, its arc sure and unyielding as he struck down the shadows that lunged toward him; shapes of darkness clawing at the air, all intent on the obscure figure that cowered just a short distance behind the man. 

 

The second presence remained forever obscured, a face blurred beyond recognition, or perhaps absent altogether, Valentiná could never remember. No matter how much she strained her eyesight, she could not tell who these people were. Yet, they stirred something unsettlingly familiar in her. 

A recognition that brushed the very edge of reality, but refused to be named. She had seen them before, she was certain of it. 

 

But where? And who are they? 

 

His blade never faltered, each strike found its mark, driving those shadows back again and again. Valentiná tried to call out to him, once, twice, it did not matter. Her voice could not tear itself from her chest; they would not hear her. 

The darkness pressed closer as the flames climbed higher around the duo, crackling and roaring until the heat became unbearable, even from a distance.

 

What would it be like to stand within those flames?

 

 They would burn if she did nothing. She had to reach them. Yet, when she tried to step forward, the smoke thickened, making her eyes tear up, clawing at her lungs. 

Each breath scorched her throat, each step faltered. She could not advance, could not draw near enough to even catch at the hem of their billowing cloaks, to leave any mark of her presence at all. The world grew dim as the smoke swallowed the fire.

 

The figures, the fight itself, all were soon lost to shadow.

 

Valentiná jolted awake in the stillness of the princely apartments, untouched by flame or soot, yet her throat ached as though she had been screaming. Her breath was rampant and heavy, her heart still hammering heavily within her chest. For a moment, she thought, she would awaken in the heat. Beads of sweat had formed pearls at her forehead as she assured herself that she was safe, in her bed.

 

The echo of that recurring dream lingered heavily upon her chest, even as the good servant Ysawynn entered. She pulled the burgundy coloured curtains open and served Valentiná with a hearty breakfast. All Valentiná could do was to move the poached eggs from one edge of the plate to the other, utterly lost in thought. How long would it be until this dream left her alone? Did it mean anything? Did it concern her sons?
 

Was she going insane?

 

When her husband came to visit mid-morning, he looked at her with some grave concern, an expression mirroring the one he had given her when they had their first son, back when she had been on the brink of death’s door. 

He found some reassurance in the faint hint of a smile she bore as that infant lay wrapped in purples, within her arms. That smile, she couldn't manage for their first son for a few days after he had been born. The Crown Princess hadn’t noticed her husband lingering at the doorway, still humming some old Asturian hymn to the babe; one she remembered from the earliest days of her childhood.

 

… Valentina.

 

How beautiful, how peaceful the baby looked. So different from their older son, now that he was a little older. Whilst Caius was a more solemn child, Hannibal hardly ever seemed to cry. Valentiná pondered to herself, her husband’s words drowning out like background noise as the smile upon her countenance vanished.

… Valentina?

By now, surely Caius knew that he wasn’t quite like the other children. He was the heir, whereas this boy… he would be the spare. What if he grew jealous? What if he was weak?

One weak link in a chain causes it to break. The thought of that made the mother’s heart ache a bit. No; he cannot be the weak link. Hannibal must become strong; a soldier, perhaps, as secondborns often were. He must be his brother’s sworn sword and shield, his right hand. His shadow. 

… Valentina?

Each offense this baby might cause is something that would reflect back upon his parents. Something, that would reflect upon his mother. I must be stern with him, Valentiná thought, as a shaky breath was heaved from her chest. Verdant eyes soon were drawn to Marcus, who stood in the very center of the room.
 

“… Valentina? Did you hear what I just said?”
 

H V M A N I T A S    I N V I C T A

“Für Gott und Kaiser,”

HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Hadrian I of the House Horen, by the Grace of GOD, 

Emperor of Man, Holy Imperator, King of Seventis, Salvus, Renatus & Oren, 

Duke of Middelan, Helena, Lorraine, Sunholdt, Grense and Reutov,  Protector of Grense, Protector of the Heartlanders, Patriarch of House Horen & the Tiberian Dynasty, 

Captain-General of the Church, Defender of the Faith.

ALEA IACTA EST

HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS, Marcus Tiberias of the House Horen, Crown Prince-Regent of the Empire, King of Burgundy, Duke of Grense.

NON DVCOR, DVCO

HER IMPERIAL HIGHNESS, Valentiná Antonia of Asturias, Crown Princess of the Empire,
Queen-Consort of Burgundy, Duchess-Consort of Grense, Imperial Chamberlain,
Baroness of Montero and Lady of Asturias.

DOMINVS VOLVIT, SIC FACTVM EST

[pkdon 1977]

The Crown Prince watched his wife and child from afar, lingering in silence by the door-frame so as not to stir them from their sleep. Those princely chambers were quiet, so much so that the fall of the infant’s breath seemed loud - peaceful, unlike his elder brother. A warm hue enveloped him, spouted from the lantern atop the bedside table. This one looked far more like him than Caius, which Marcus had found amusing; for there was no crown waiting for this one, no burden of inevitability pressed upon his brow. And in that absence, he felt something unexpected - not relief, but gratitude.

A second son.

The life he had once yearned for in his youth, devoid of crown and duty. To choose one’s place besides history, rather than beneath it. He reached out, fingers brushing lightly against that purple swaddling cloth, his features softening but slightly. 

“You are blessed, my son,” 

Marcus murmured at last.

 “You must protect your brother, always.”

His gaze lingered on both mother and son, submerged in a deep fondness. As he stared, the image of his own brother grew ever clearer. His most trusted ally, his most dear of friends. There was strength there, much like Titus’ own, not that which is measured by inheritance, but by a purpose yearning to be forged. This child would not rule. He would stand. Whatever storms waited for the Empire, whatever fate demanded of the heir, the boy would not face it alone. 

“The Crown, and the Sword.”

 

 

 

 

[ninjaclimb1 432]

Hannibal smiles the suns smile, blissfully unaware of the horrifying, though sadly accurate, accusations of his infant obesity that had spread from the Empires courts.

[annanicole__ 2802]

Ipera smiled and sent for a servant. “Please prepare a blanket for the new prince, and a basket for Princess Valentina to aid in her recovery.” She then reached down and lifted her son gently from his crib.

[Mescaffier 6197]

Spoiler

 

he has marcus' hairline

 

[SplitTheG 7740]

4 hours ago, kuerbis said:

Duke of Myrfeld

Spoiler