𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭

~𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫~

I've been writing to Elijah daily. He perhaps will not recieve or read those messages, but it feels good.

Dearest Elijah,

I'm writing you today, like every other day, to talk to you. I'm well aware you will certainly not read those letters, but I do feel some sort of comfort when talking to you.
I do miss you dearly too.

I miss your kisses, hugs. Your raspy voice waking up in the morning. I love you.
But lately I must confess, I haven't been feeling that love as much.
Perhaps that's due to the current situation, as I'm sure once  we go back to our normal lives I'll feel those feelings again, and they will be stronger than ever.
Nonetheless, with the deepest bottoms of my heart, I do wish you're well and not hurt.
It really was not my choice to leave you and all our friends behind. I knew the royal family was attacking, though I couldn't save you, and for that, I'll never forgive myself.
Mother and Fredrick have been getting on my nerves. Though I love mother, she just isn't sparing any of her attention to me. And Fredrick, God damn he's so annoying.

But the highlight of it all, is the terrible news I've received last week.

My father's dead.

I suppose I should have expected this, I mean I thought both my parents were dead for years upon years. But it still comes to you like a kick in the gut.

I was hopeful. I had faith, I knew he was alive. But apparently he's killed himself to sustain food for mother. She told me he's commanded her to kill him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it, so he's done the job....

Anyway, sending you all my love.

Yours sincerely,
Your lover.

In a way, it feels foolish. These letters have been piling up in my desk, collecting dust. Nothing but a waste of ink and paper.
And though I still cannot tell Elijah everything I'm feeling, but I have no one else to talk to, he's perhaps the closest person I trust enough to tell him about my days, nothing more, just how my days went and my love for him.

Mother truly never spares me her attention. I must say it is quite irritating. But perhaps she's just busy after all, and I cannot blame her for that.

I've been also getting stronger and stronger by the day. I've mastered yielding a sword and fighting one on one, and I've only got better with my daggers.
My arm from the night at the ball has fully healed.

But I still cannot believe father's dead. I still feel him. But this time there's no hope to cling to, absolutely none, and it haunts me.