A diary entry - The Bastard

[kuerbis 3802]

 

✠ DOMINVS VOLVIT, SIC FACTVM EST ✠

 

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[!] 

The latest entry into Valentiná of Asturias private diary could be found within this booklet, alongside all other entries she has made thus far. It had been left behind upon her sudden departure from the Capital, to be found haphazardly thrown under her bed within the Crown Prince’s Apartments. 

No other note, no other indication had been left behind to hint at where she might’ve gone, but it could be noted that she had left her wedding ring behind on her nightstand. 

 

All members of Valentiná’s close family have the chance to find this, meaning her husband, children, siblings, some in-laws, a select few friends etc. Please use common sense if you decide to RP about it; would your character think about checking her chamber after noticing her disappearance? Are they close enough to have access to it, in the first place?

 

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10th of Godfrey's Triumph 646;    It's like he ripped the heart out of my chest, oh I have never been so terribly disappointed. How evil, how badly it hurts. How could he do this?   Days after father's passing, this boy came to us. A bastard, born of the sinful union between some peasant girl and my husband, Marcus. I never thought this would become reality. Did he do this deliberately? With malice, since my father can no longer throw his gauntlet for my honor? I am unconvinced, yet he claims he truly did not know about the boy. But he certainly knew about his mother, and he certainly knew that he has, in ten, almost eleven years of our marriage, not once mentioned her or the possibility that he might have a bastard. How can I ever forgive this slight against our family? Against me?    To me, there was never a ‘before us’. We have known each other all our lives; we have grown up, side by side. We had the same tutors, mostly the same friends… There was never a moment in which I did not believe he was with me, not even a moment of doubt. But, perhaps I was wrong in my assumption. Perhaps I was too secure in my hopes, that our kinship was alike that of Tiberias and Lady Circe; perhaps we are more like Hadrian and Elizabeth, after all. I was delusional, for I believed our hearts to be pure in our union. I believed he meant it when we pledged perpetual honesty to one another when we spoke that afternoon, in the palace gardens. How could I have been so foolishly naive? Has he turned around and spat on everything that was holy to me? To us? Perhaps this is a ploy to keep me in check, but as I ponder these terrible thoughts, my mind begins to wander.   Have I ever failed in my duties as a mother, or a wife, a future Empress or even as a friend? I have not slighted him, or deceived him, ever, in a similar manner. He assured me, it all meant nothing to him, and that this woman was in the past. That it happened at a time, before we were married, just before our official engagement, as though that would reassure me. But this, this terrible slight against me makes me question if he was ever truly the man I believed him to be. I expected to follow him to the end of the world, and back. To hell, if he needed me to go there. Oh, I would have died for him, and killed for him in my earnest regard for us, and our family. But now I can tell that he was never willing to go to such lengths.    There was this picture I'd had of Marcus; I thought he was a man of honor and justice. I thought he had been well-meaning and gentle. He has not been the best of husbands, but he has never caused me such embarrassment, and I have never once complained about his shortcomings. I thought he cared that we would be strong; a united front.   Now I have to wonder, who is he? Who is this man I married ten years ago? Was he ever caring, or was this some mask of deceit that he slipped on to fool me with? I do not think I could look him in the eye if he stood before me now. Will I ever be able to do so again? Can things ever be the same again?    I have always avoided talking to men who aren't either a part of my family, or in some way, guardsmen or knights of the Empire. I should have expected a similar courtesy from him. How could this have happened right under my nose? I believe, my worries about the women who vie for his attention have been well-placed after all, despite his reassurances to my terrible, jealous nature. Oh how foolish I have felt, when the sin of jealousy overtook me; how wrathful. I had wanted to squash all of these women underfoot like the vermin they were. But it would appear that they were never the issue. Perhaps this was not the only time. How can I ever trust him again, when the very foundation of our marriage has been built on a lie?    Oh how can we ever recover from this? Must I forgive Marcus, or pretend it never even happened? Must I smile and bow my head demurely and simply accept this bastard into my life; the lives of my children? I feel apprehensive about it, though the boy bears no fault for the circumstances of his birth. A pitysome child now, yet I have to wonder... What should I do when he is grown? What if this child starts having delusions of grandeur? What if he ever attempts to prop himself up as Dragon's Blood, and what if he tries to steal Caius' throne?   Should I send someone to kill him? Could that relieve my heartache, or would I drown in guilt and sorrow if I had this poor boy’s blood on my hands? Or shall I have to try to love him as one of my own, to dissuade him from reaching for power and to grow stronger through what, through love? Love has done me a disservice in the past. I doubt I shall ever dare to reach for its deceitful hand again.   There is no right course of action for me to take; no manual to handle this. I do not know who to talk to. Who would not judge me for these awful thoughts?    To kill a child, Valentiná, what is wrong with you?   In fact, I believe it would be best if I retreated to the countryside for a while. Should I return, there would certainly be gossipers; those who will laugh at me and my foolish nature, and those who might find pity for me. I would like to avoid the people and their questions and comments for as long as possible, forever if I could get away with it, but perhaps it is best I merely leave for as long as my heart still aches. Would my children even notice my absence much? Caius is to be educated as a Crown Prince, Hannibal is dreaming of chivalry and knighthood, and my only daughter, Drusilla, despises my company. They might yet be better off, without the influence of their scheming and conniving mother.    Perhaps the good Lady Ipera, or the Countess of Silasia and her husband would be kind enough to host me for a little while. Manon might be able to offer me a place to hide, but I believe the NGS is too close for my comfort.    If I can prepare for it accordingly, I might simply step on a vessel and sail away. I could try visiting Caerine in Aeldin, or perhaps I might find the island-republic of Ulyssa along my travels. I might meet Marlon or Renán at sea, but in truth, that would not be wise. All I want now is to be left alone in my shame and misery, to wallow in the dirt and lick my wounds like a dying feral cat. May GOD forgive me, may GOD forgive him and may GOD keep his bastard safe from the ill-wishers, who bear a similarly deprived nature as I.

 

Spoiler

OOC: Please keep in mind that this is all an IRP situation, and that there is no OOC drama surrounding this, whatsoever. :)

 

[sarahbarah 7105]

EIRENE, the nosy child she was, meagerly pressed her ear to the door of Valentina's office. What she heard chilled her; the soft sound of weeping, followed by the shattering of fine porcelain. Childishly, she pressed herself against the gilded wall, tucking herself away. The Princess' ward remained—prying, but dutiful, nonetheless.

[annanicole__ 2802]

Lady Ipera had no clear understanding of what was unfolding around her. To her, it felt as though she had lost far more than any soul ought to bear her father, taken by violence; her mother, claimed by her own despair; her sisters, her husband, and with them, the shape of her future. And yet, in all that grief, there was but one person she believed could truly understand the weight of such loss—her dearest, and perhaps only, friend: Valentina.

 

At last, Ipera settled at her dust-laden desk. With a steadying breath, she opened her worn book of poems and let the ink flow once more. This time, her words would not remain hidden. This time, they would be sent to Valentina alone.

[trinn 5128]

Beat him, 

Joan had advised her, only hours prior to her disappearance, when Valentina spoke of Marcus' abrupt distance from her.

 

The Imperial Princess had returned from her travels, a talk with a so called Green Sage, to the capital of Rittersburg in the great heaving of a war-horse. Yet, there seemed an absence too great to dispose; wherein her pacing within both the Asturian Manor and Palace proper had relinquished no sight of her sister. Had it been another day, a happier night, she may have resigned it to the busy schedules they respectively kept. But a worry tugged at her heart, for their last departing conversation from each other. It was a strange thing for Marcus and Valentina to find themselves cold. 

 

Thereafter, the finding of that journal was an accursed thing, a fault of a curiousity too great, and a worry too incessant. Joan need not to have pried more than a few lines further than the start, before the book was shut tight again. She clutched it within a pained grip, knuckles made white by the tight insistance of its claim upon her person. Dignity, the thought rang in her mind as that journal was brought away from the Crown-Princess' chamber.  If there is any dignity left to be preserved, then the dignity of the privacy of her thoughts. Valentina's thoughts, heated words written by cold ink, would at least be preserved for herself alone. The Imperial Princess placed the journal within lock and key, back into the Asturian Manor where Valentina's late father had last resided. A piece of her would return home, at the very least, if the rest recused itself in pained seclusion.

 

[Cheese 8875]

It was only upon Constantina's most recent visit to Rittersburg that she learned of the Crown Princess's sudden disappearance. Though her duties in Valwyck and to her children often tore her away from the capital, she had always enjoyed serving as a Lady-in-Wait to Valentina. 

 

The whispers of why the Princess had fled were quick to reach the Duchess's ears. It caused her stomach to sink--it brought a tightness to her throat. She knew all too well the sting of infidelity; how it irreparably damaged the family. How could Marcus have done such a thing to Valentina, of all wonderful people?

 

Companionship came rarely for Constantina, and sympathy was even rarer. But on that travel back to Tarnavon, a single thought played on loop in her mind: How she hoped Valentina might know she was not alone, and that Valwyck would welcome her with open arms.