latverianregent:

Progress was considerable on all of Kristoff's current projects, both technical and diplomatic. He'd worked hard to do his job to the fullest, to help fulfill his family's and his country's agreements, to make his Master/Father proud.

But there was something he had not attended to in a while. A personal ritual of sorts. And so, although he wore his armor with the built-in communication line, in case he was needed at the Castle, Kristoff left that towering structure and went to the outskirts of Doomstadt. To the gypsy funeral grounds.

He knelt beside a particular tree, and he told her what he'd done, and he told her that he loved her and missed her. More than a dozen years hadn't changed that.

He stayed a little longer than usual, trying first to keep, then to regain, his composure. A Von Doom does not cry where anyone could possibly see.