Dearest Fabian

III

May 2, 1635

Dearest Fabian,

   I must admit. I like how Dorian takes so must interest in our conversations but I don't feel as if I'm with him. My mind feels around the fact that he may be my future and I cannot love a man who wasn't brave enough to fight a war.
   Call me a hypocrite. I don't care. All I can care about is what a world it would be if I can the right to fight the war with you. I know, as a lady I must not speak of such things but you're my friend, I trust you with my darkest secrets. So I must tell you my darkest secrets.

I'm afraid.

   I'm afraid whenever you tell me your on a mission. I'm afraid whenever you tell me not to worry. It scares me, knowing that one moment your fine and the next your dead. Its inappropriate to say such a thing, but Fabian, I can't stand the thought of how I'd feel if I see your body brought back in one of those makeshift coffins.
   I wouldn't know how to live with myself if you died. The thought haunts my ever being, and even now my hands shake as I write this letter. If I see your body, I promise I would attend the funeral, but it wouldn't be just your funeral. They would have to dig two graves.

For I would die of heartbreak.

A soul that belongs to you,
Arlette LeNoir