Cold Tears [Closed]

Býkonsviði, Prydania

"I miss you."
Tobias tossed a bit in his sleep. The voice whispered to him, but it was in the back of his head. He wasn't even dreaming, he sleeping soundly, until the words danced over the edge of his mind. He wasn't even sure if he could discern the words. It was more a sense or feeling.

"I miss you."
"Astrid," he muttered. The voice was gone, as soon as it appeared, and Tobias began to sink back into sleep, but a feeling deep in his stomach stirred him. He was awake. Staring into blackness through closed eyes, but awake. He sighed, and slowly opened his eyes to reveal his quarters in Absalonhöll, draped in the darkness of night. He looked over at Alycia, sound asleep, and rubbed his own temples before he got up. He smacked his lips a bit. Cottonmouth.

He sat on the couch in the adjoining room, before a television, crossed legged as he sipped a glass of water. He didn't turn the tv on. He didn't want to awaken Alycia. He just sat there, alone with his thoughts.

"I guess if anyone was going to cut through the noise, it should be you, Astrid," he thought as he looked down at his glass of water in the dark.

The Andrennians had lodged an official complaint regarding Max's visit. The press was talking about it... and Tobias didn't care. He really didn't care.
So much of his life was dictated by a need to be magnanimous, but the King of Waltalriche visiting was for him.

"That sounds selfish," Tobias thought to himself as his tilted the cup a bit, watching the water gently move to and from inside its glass prison.
He understood to a degree. It was a King of a foreign country- a controversial King and country- coming to Prydania. Tobias understood why the Andrennians were mad, and why he should care. They were allies. They were friends. They were, above all else, kin. And they'd been an exceptionally good ally of Prydania. And of course the Prydanian press. They were also critical. Very few in Prydania approved of Waltalriche's human rights record, even if there was an appreciation for their steadfast opposition to certain syndicalist-adjacent forces.
So much talk. Should King Tobias do this? Should he meet with King Maxamillian? The Andrennians had a say. Even the Via wanted to talk to him.

"I don't care," Tobias thought to himself as he worked through his thoughts.
"Max is one of the only people I can relate to with this, I'm going to see him."

And through all of that...

"Why did you say you missed me?" he asked softly. The first words he'd actaully said after waking up.
"I miss you too," he added.
"But that's it? Nothing about..."

"... about what?"

Alycia had gingerly leaned over and kissed his neck from behind before she made her way over to the couch to sit next to him. She was pregnant, but only two months so. She wasn't totally incompacitated.

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't," Alycia said with a smile.
"Well... not directly. I noticed you weren't there when I went to hug you."
"Heh... sorry, but I think you know... about what."

"I can wager a guess," Alcyia answered, with a sleepy yet cheeky grin as she rested her head on Tobias' shoulder.

"I just dreamt that Astrid told me she missed me."

"Oh my miláček..." she cooed softly as she stroked her husband's hand.
"It's no wonder why. You're seeing Max soon."

Tobias smiled softly. Alcyia was very analytical. Astrid was Max's first love. Now he was coming here. It was obvious why Tobias was thinking about Astrid.

"I know," he sighed softly. "Still... I donno. This is going to sound really silly. It was her voice. It was like she was here again. That's nuts."

"Memories have a way of coming back around," Alcyia said as she nuzzled her husband's shoulder.
"I know you like to talk to your parents... do you talk to Astrid much?"

"No," Tobias said softly.
"I feel bad about that."

"She knows you cared about her."

"If she is... somewhere out there... maybe she does miss me. Maybe I should talk to her more often."

"You weren't that close."

Tobias nodded.
It was what was funny abouty this. Tobias had shut out the Andrennian protests and the Prydanian press because he considered Max a friend... but the truth was that Max was, back in his childhood, more like an older cousin. Astrid had been five years older then him, and Max was joined to her at the hip whenever he came to Prydania. At six, he'd wanted to be involved with whatever schemes they may have plotted as kids, way too young to understand that they were getting to an age where they maybe wanted a bit of privacy. They were older, and like all young kids, he idolized his big cousin and her boyfriend.
And that didn't even get into how things normally were. Astrid bossed him around, would confiscate his toys when she wanted...
But Tobias had watched her die. He'd seen her utterly broken self gunned down by a man he thought was his father's friend, and he felt utterly helpess doing it. When he was thirteen... he had to reckon with the idea that he was now older then his big cousin would ever be.

Since then Astrid had been someone he'd felt immense sadness for, but hadn't allowed himself to really grapple with losing her. And how he'd spent so much time as a kid being mad at her, or desperate for her approval as she was annoyed by him... and then she was gone. He never got to tell his cousin he loved her, or that he'd miss her...

"I still miss her, though. Max does too."

Alycia smiled and pat her husband's thigh through his sweatpants. She actually shared an opinion with the Andrennians and the Prydanian media on this matter. She didn't know King Maximillian II. He could be lovely, personally, but she found his country objectionable. The only reason she hadn't said anything was that she knew how her husband felt about all of this.

"I've been reading up on some of your family's old sagas," she said with a smile as she playfully wrapped her fingers in his.
"'A burden shared is a burden halved,' I think the saying goes?"

"Já," Tobias said with a nod.
"That's a good one."

"You know you can count on me to halve your burdens, love."

"I know," Tobias said sofyly. He just looked down at his glass of water, finally sipping some more. Alycia could read his mind. She didn't share this trauma though.

"So let Max halve this one," she said as she stood and grabbed Tobias' hand gently, pulling him to his feet.
"But remember, the past is a good place to reflect on. Not embrace."

"Is that from a saga too?" Tobias asked as he leaned down to kiss her on the lips.

"The Saga of Alycia," she playfully smirked, patting him on the hip. "And it also says that the King who spends his night not sleeping makes a fool of himself in the morning."

Tobias smiled. He kissed her again, and followed her back to bed. He protectively cuddled her, putting a hand over her belly, where his unborn child was, and kissed her shoulder as he drifted off asleep. He'd found peace. For tonight, anyway.

---

*miláček- Norsian for "sweatheart"

Erlagen, Waltalriche
St. Oskar Chapel

Maximillian gripped the cold bronze handle of the large chapel door. The cold winter wind howled, pushing down hard on the door as the King pulled it towards himself. He held it open as flurries of snow blew behind him, catching his hair and flying into the chapel's vestibule as he went inside. Max's body shivered as he met the warmer yet still chilled air of the building's interior. Keeping his winter coat tight to his body, he walked into the narthex, dipping his right hand into one of the many stone stoups that lined the walls and with three fingers made the sign of the cross.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”

The water elicited a familiar chill on his hand and forehead as he walked down the Chapel's nave towards the crossing and the altar. The holy site was beautiful, yet austere, with high arches lining the clerestories to his left and right and brilliant stained glass windows depicting scenes from both the Old and New Testaments looming down on the interior from the walls. The design was quintessentially Waltalrichian in its almost humble opulence.
The young King found solace in this place, the silent yet evocative quiet of the chapel embracing him in its peace.
Ahead of him, past the crossing, sat the altar on which sat a small golden crucifix. Behind the altar, deviating from the style of the original chapel, sat a new construction. An elaborate iconostasis, adorned with over a dozen icons and depictions of holy Courantist figures, a gift made for his wife Cornelia, who was born into Orthodoxy in Maloria and who he thought would want a reminder of home when she prayed.
A sweet gesture.

Max slowly ambled from the nave of the chapel to the foot of the altar and bowed deeply. He got down onto his knees, prostrating himself before the crucifix, and whether from the cold or the reverence that flowed through him, the King began to tremble, crossing himself once more and beginning his prayer.

"Lord, I am not worthy to kneel before You. I do not deserve You, nor the things you have provided me. For I am the most wretched of sinners."

He said shakily, his voice low as he pressed his head down against the cold edge of the altar. He was filled with a deep sense of shame that made him feel as though he would vomit it out before the altar.

"I am guilty in my heart against the ones I love and do not know if I may ever forgive myself, Lord. Why can't I shake this feeling from my heart, this curse from a blessing?"

He picked his head up and raised it to the iconostasis.

Just above where the typical iconostasis door would be, sat hanging an icon of the Holy Mother of God, the Ever-Virgin Mary, who was enthroned on a wide almost sofa-like throne, her hands outstretched and her hair concealed, her face was aged yet serene, and in her lap sat with her, the Holy Child staring up at her in great love and adoration while she gazed back at him.

"I have sinned against You, Oh Lord, whom I should love above all things! Forgive me, though I may never forgive myself."

His eyes flooded, tears streaming down the sides of his face as his hot tears stung his eyes, blurring his vision. Wiping his eyes, he retrained his focus on the icon. Yet there was something wrong, the Virgin's appearance had changed, her hair was now a light golden blonde and which flowed down over her shoulders, her previously brown eyes were sparkling ocean blue, her face too had changed, filled now with the vibrance of youth. She stared at him.
Innocently, like an angel sent down from above, she smiled, and he felt as though he could be raptured, taken into oblivion.
For a moment, it was as if every thought had left Max's body as he stared up into her eyes, his mouth agape as though he had just seen Mary herself appear before him.
He knew the face.
He'd seen her before.
He'd heard her voice.
"What're you looking at?"

---

Skógurheorot, Prydania

“What’re you looking at?” Astrid mumbled, repeating herself, as she tapped Max’s shoulder to get his attention.

“What?” Max jumped, turning around quickly to face her, his face flushed pale, his body warmed all over as if he was standing next to a fire or was under the grip of a fever.

"What are you looking at?" She was smiling, her face and hair glowing in the hazy sunlight. Max couldn't look away.

A thin halo of light surrounded her head, and just as before, he stood dumbfounded and in awe. She was more beautiful than the stars, as pale as the moon yet brighter than the sun in his eyes.
Only for a moment.

He took her hand in his, and it was as if he'd touched lightning, his hand in hers. They were so close.
No more words to describe the feelings and emotions, only actions as he unconsciously leaned towards her.

---

Erlagen, Waltalriche
St. Oskar Chapel

Yet, from the door of the chapel came a few thundering knocks.

His dream's coup de grâce, as Max turned to face who it was that was entering, wiping the tears from his eyes and dusting off his trousers.
Peering from the chapel's entranceway, a small man entered, dressed in a black wool winter coat, his royal household uniform visible beneath it. He was one of his wife's servants.

"Your Majesty." The man said as he entered, bowing deeply before Max, still panting slightly from what could have only been the walk through the snow to get to the chapel.

"The Queen Consort requests your presence in her chambers whenever you may be available."

Max looked at him and asked in a flat tone. "Did she give a reason?"

"No sire." The man shook his head, hands at his sides.

Max sighed, standing up before the altar, crossing himself before bowing to the crucifix once more.
"Tell her I'll see her in a few minutes." He stretched his neck.

"Of course, sire." The man bowed before he departed.