Now, when all is quiet, let me find the words to tell you our story. It's not a simple tale. And often, not a happy one. And I know not what the poets shall sing of me. Either exaggerate my victories, or bemoan my tragic death. Who knows? Only the sweet mistress of time.
But for now, here is our story. As we tell it. It's worth telling because we lived. It's worth retelling because you lived too. Forgive us our exaggerations, our flights of fancy, our failing memories. Forgive us our faults, and our fatal errors. We didn't mean to die. Nor did we want to leave each other. But one by one we do.
Perhaps my life means nothing at all. In spots it felt that way. But on another token, perhaps it will mean more to you than it ever did to me. Either way, I'd like to stay with you for a while. For even if my story is lost to time and translations and fancies and madness, then perhaps its affect won't be. Perhaps my words will come to you in your hour of need, just as the faerie-tales of my youth did for me. But all is quiet now. And peace. So unlock what you will. We are glad of your company for however brief a time. Take good care of us. We are fragile now as fate shifts even the memory of us into mere specters. But never doubt that we were here. that we lived.
YOU ARE READING
Henriad (History Plays, Book 5)
Teen FictionThe heir to a criminal empire must deal with his father's terminal illness, raising his siblings alone, falling in love, and the excrutiatingly painful trials that come with growing up. Since his mother's untimely death, Harry has been fiercly prot...
