The next memory paled in sharp comparison to the last, where the last two had been happier this one touched on the other extreme – sorrow and despair. Freya felt these emotions before she had even gotten to the particular memory – the one that held all the pain. Unhappiness had been a trend for this woman, intensifying over the years, slowly gaining emotional strength in her physical weaknesses.
Years had come and gone, each one more unkind than the last, never the less she tried to stand resilient. The lady Astridr rose early every morning greeting the day with a defiance that defined her will to live. Her chin and face was tilted upward with a remote gaze as she beheld the wind and the rain with a silent vigil. The lady of the house, she never gave into visible despair in the midst of others but in looking upon her, her eyes held a haunted gaze that her companion and maid could not ignore as she approached.
"My lady, his Lordship – the Duke of Lorraine, is presently calling upon you."
A pronounced tremble wracked through the lady's pale visage as she coughed. The cough was terrible to behold, wicked in the pressure it placed on the frail female. At the end of the coughing fit only weak, wispy breaths escaped. Nevertheless with as much grace as she could, the young lady stood. To ignore such a guest, her father-in-law, was unforgivable no matter the reason. This had been her life over the past years, reduced to wasting away with the strength of her youth eluding her grasp. For the likes of her even her unfading faith in the gods was not enough to see her prayers answered, her fate averted, or herself saved.
The diagnosis never improved despite the fact her health was attended to by the best doctors, the best priests. It became obvious that each year she got weaker, each year her condition grew grave, and over the past few months she came to the slow realization that there would be no miracle, no recovery. Her father-in-law's visit, it was not a surprise, not in the least.
No matter how complete, how pure her intentions were she'd never physically would be able to live up to the expectations for her to fulfill her promise. A promise made when she had been a young lady on the verge of adolescence and he'd be a young boy. Many years had passed by and in the interim her years had cured her of ignorance, a blissful ignorance that had made her childhood and its fantasies altogether magical. This was no social call, no well wishes were to be offered on her behalf, Vytis' sire was here for one thing and one only: release from obligation.
She would be asked to release Vytis of their betrothal. Although the Duke of Lorraine had every reason, every right to sever it at any time it was better for the betrothal to be mutually broke by both parties to avoid casting offense or dishonor on either household, to avoid sewing discord where there was none.
Mereit rushed over to help her up and she gently pushed the benevolent woman back, "No, I can rise on my own."
Despair came easily to her but she could never accept defeat while she drew breath or had strength, her pride would allow nothing less than her best regardless of her status. She paused only long enough to make sure her appearance was decent. The fact she was ill, it would buy her time, so her delay wasn't seen as rude but rather necessary.
It was mid-autumn and the northern borderlands were already cold and frigid, each morning the grounds of the estate and the wilderness was coated with thick frost casting glitter over the surface of everything, had the plants not been dead she would have thought it beautiful. Unbidden to her mind she realized that her own scenario wasn't much different, she still held mortal beauty but beneath that beauty she was wasting away and dying. Unlike those plants though they had a future come spring and who knew if she'd make it through the next year. Nevertheless she righted herself, correcting her posture and stepping lightly down the staircase, she did not need to be shown the way to her own drawing room. Her father and sister were absent this day leaving her as the lady of the house, his hostess. She was gratified to see that his needs had been attended to: a warm hearth with tea.
"My lord, I pray you will excuse my delay. May I pour your tea?"
"You may, you have my thanks," he paused as she managed to pour his tea artfully without a drop spilt from her faint hands, "I realize that this might be unkind to call upon you at this early hour of the day especially with your state."
"Think nothing of it, my lord, you are always welcomed within these halls, " as she finished pouring her own tea she took a moment to look upon him, the Lord of Lorraine didn't look better, "If it is not too presumptuous to inquire about your health. You appear unwell, my lord."
"There is no cause to worry about my well being, spare not a thought or worry about it when your need for concern is greater than mine."
"You are very kind, my lord," she was reserved, waiting for when he'd get to the point of his visit, as if to gratify her expectations his next words were just that.
"It is my regret to inform you that this, this is not a social call. I am deeply aggrieved by the necessity of this. I had been holding out for a long while hoping that such a request would be avertable. Your sire, Margrave Gudleifr, has expressed the nature of your affliction - that there is no cure for it."
"No, there isn't. There is no foreseeable end to this ordeal, my sire speaks in truth," she desperately blinked a single time to keep herself from suffering through the trial of tears.
"Of course you shalt always be considered mine daughter, beloved in my heart after all these years. However, in light of such circumstances unfolding between us, I feel it is unavoidable to ask for you to release my son, Vytis, from his obligation to you. I have already spoken with your sire to make sure this ordeal is appropriated in such a way that there is no cause for conflict. You could not help the circumstances that consumed your very well being, your father and I have for a long time been concerned, increasingly of late, of the fact your strength and health eclipses rapidly and that it is believed you will not be able to live up to the terms the betrothal…"
"Naturally…," she had to speak, she was aware that it was rude to interrupt but it was crucial she speak and act swiftly, so she could depart , "I am a woman of my word and when I cannot be, I am honorable. I cannot, in this case, fulfill the obligations I was sworn to and thus," her shoulders shifted underneath her shawl as she slipped the ring off her left hand, "I honorably withdraw my claim upon your son. You are freed of your obligation to me with my blessing. I pray that I have not caused you undue distress and I beg to be pardoned."
Although she tried so hard she could not ignore that her voice trembled as she spoke the necessary words to end this visit, a visit that prolonged her torment. She would never have a life of meaning, no future. By releasing Vytis he would have one but she was releasing any semblance, any chance of one. But what choice did she have? Willing or not, her father and his, would see it dissolved. It was better to acquiesce than to be dragged down kicking and screaming. Only now did Astridr realize that while she saved face on the outside but she still was dragged down kicking and screaming within herself. There was no peace within only a young woman who would yearn for love she would never receive. Even though she tried to control her reactions, to prevent her from making a scene, from making a fool of herself she could not. The turmoil that stirred within her breast hurt, so severely, that she felt as if her heart was constrained. Failure, her attempts to hold back, it was all in vain. Within her chest cavity her breathing increased in an incensed fashion to where, stirred up by her emotional storm, coughs wracked her and their severity thrust her into the welcoming embrace of darkness.
When she awoke the flood of returning consciousness was nearly as painful and merciless as the act of breathing. Death would have been kinder but even oblivion could not be hers. She was not sure how long she'd been out but a healthy glow was rising from the hearth illuminating the darkness that had been encroaching on her. She had slept through the day? Until dark? The room held a pleasant fragrance that came from the silent and serene glow of candles. Three non scented candles illuminated her table in which she saw that a meal had been provided.
As her health had declined she had been excused from joining her family in the nightly ritual of their evening meal. Tonight, no doubt because of the earlier coughing fit, someone (probably Mereit) had taken liberty to bring her meal. Everything was warm, perfectly placed, so as to provide her every comfort but she couldn't be comfortable not in a prison, her prison. She needed out, her room it gave her no sense of sanctuary but rather the feeling of one trapped.
She gathered her shawl over her shoulders trying to avoid the dull throbbing that accompanied each breath, a testament of the severity of her respiratory fits. In comparison to her room the rest of the house was dark and deserted. Sure that the family was in the midst of the evening meal she was reluctant to bother them however she wished to take her meal in company rather than solitude. If she was alone she thought she would descend anew into despair, the best way to get over her disappointment was to move on with her life and her family was that.
When she went down to the dining hall she did not see them present however she did see three places set. That in itself was suspicious since her meal had been sent up the third place; HER place typically was not set at the table with that of her father and sister's. Her father and sister had to be back but the general silence, the lack of life around the massive manse was unsettling. However she was not prepared to retire for her meal or the evening, she realized she had yet to complete her daily devotions to the gods. Although she had come to realize that her fate was set she still continued to pray, to hope for an honorable death, more honorable than illness. She shivered at the idea of joining Hel within the demesne of Nifleheim.
Normally she could summon the priest to her rooms and privately take her prayer with him but the chapel, it would be abandoned, the perfect place for her to seek solace in prayer. The walk to the chapel would be a cold but brief one. She travelled to the back hall collecting her cloak, slipping it over her shawl and drawing the hood up as she stepped outside. The cold was piercing and instantly she felt her lungs seize, having difficulty breathing as her warm breath hit the frigid air. She gathered her cloak about her tighter so that she could filter out the cold. Her ungloved hand was pale, the warmth and color sucked right out of the numb fingers as she curled them around the door handle. She pulled the door and stepped within paralyzed when she heard voices accompanying the pale glow of candlelight. Softly her mute steps carried her forward where she wished she'd just stayed in her room, never waking within the world of the living.
Before her, mirroring her own ceremony, was her sister Ingrid standing with the Duke of Lorraine who in the stead of Vytis, promised his son to "the second daughter of Aurelien" and Ingrid who promised herself to Vytis in HER stead.
"Oh…my lady," arms caught her, cradling her as they curled about her, to lead her away. Astridr, she did not fight them as she surrendered to a despair that rightly enveloped her after all that she suffered through.
It had not been meant to be…
Over the years, she had tried to tell herself that to rationalize why such a thing had happened to her when everything had appeared right within her life. She always pleased her father and lived in such a way as to please the gods. She bit back her anger, allowing it to simmer, slowly receding into tears that marred her cheek. Why had she deserved to be stripped of life and meaning? Her days of freedom, of activity were behind her after she'd been stricken with illness. It had also been the end of any kind of future for her since she could never amount or live up to the expectations of a wife and mother. To complete her humiliation her sister, her perfect sister would eclipse her and live her life in her stead? She no longer cared about her salvation, if the gods were merciful they would take her and soon.
I have had enough…
"Find your peace. Release yourself of this emotion."
Despair…
Freya's mercy for the mortal woman was fleeting but Astridr's fixation on the emotional turmoil lessened, serving the purpose of weakening the memory's strength. After that she cast it aside before moving onto the next memory like it was the next matter of business, with casual disregard.
