20th Printing
Voice Post
Here was a royal fellowship of death ... Something to say to the crowd, Father? No?
That's right. You're powerless here. Impotent. No one can hear you but me, and I'm not the boy I once was.
It's a pity you don't have the chance to set history straight in regards to the death of your son and the mystery surrounding his burial. Do you know how many stories there are? Ridiculous tales of lead-lined caskets, ox-carts and a dearth of mourners. The last two I'll believe. The first I know without doubt was false. Did you? Norfolk spared me the worst of your intentions, but he didn't dare risk a proper interment befitting my station.
What kept you from coming to my quarters and carrying out with your own hands what you thought must be done? Vanity? Politics? Fear? Were you afraid of Christina, or of me?
I could have thanked you during my first year. I was starving when I changed, because of you.
Don't look so horrified. Would you like to know what became of the rest of your children? The daughters you attempted to force aside? Edward didn't last, by the way. He died before he turned sixteen. Mary died childless--thanks to you, I couldn't go to her when she fell ill--and Elizabeth never wed. I'm all that's left.
[A long pause. He's listening.]
Really, Father. As if a priest would do you any good.
[ooc: Backdated to before sunrise, and I apologize if I disappear at any point, since I also have Father's Day duties.]
Here was a royal fellowship of death ... Something to say to the crowd, Father? No?
That's right. You're powerless here. Impotent. No one can hear you but me, and I'm not the boy I once was.
It's a pity you don't have the chance to set history straight in regards to the death of your son and the mystery surrounding his burial. Do you know how many stories there are? Ridiculous tales of lead-lined caskets, ox-carts and a dearth of mourners. The last two I'll believe. The first I know without doubt was false. Did you? Norfolk spared me the worst of your intentions, but he didn't dare risk a proper interment befitting my station.
What kept you from coming to my quarters and carrying out with your own hands what you thought must be done? Vanity? Politics? Fear? Were you afraid of Christina, or of me?
I could have thanked you during my first year. I was starving when I changed, because of you.
Don't look so horrified. Would you like to know what became of the rest of your children? The daughters you attempted to force aside? Edward didn't last, by the way. He died before he turned sixteen. Mary died childless--thanks to you, I couldn't go to her when she fell ill--and Elizabeth never wed. I'm all that's left.
[A long pause. He's listening.]
Really, Father. As if a priest would do you any good.
[ooc: Backdated to before sunrise, and I apologize if I disappear at any point, since I also have Father's Day duties.]