I Know You Said Not To Call You Again, But I Miss You

[The Prince of Tatters]

Letters passed between distant lovers a decade ago. Before the death of the line of Vexion.

When last I saw you, you were as peaceful as I'd ever seen you. Set adrift upon dreams as Telperion's sun fell upon you. I remember your pale glow and the way we spoke the night before I departed. I just want you to know that I am so sorry and that I am the fool you told me I was. I wish I could say that I am writing this because of the ache in my heart, which is real. I write you this to tell you the truth of things. My father, Praetor Suresh Vexion plays a dangerous game, one that may cost us everything. I didn't want to leave this world without telling you that I love you. That for every disagreement we might have had, there is nothing I would rather do than to spend one more day with you. To curse and to praise and to touch you because with you, I was more alive than I've ever been. I won't ask your forgiveness. I am not deserving. I just wish for you to know.

Forever Yours,
Q.V.
​

 

[Zeraphine Batahlia]

Quintus had never made it home to claim his title as her husband. But in her heart, he had remained her betrothed— bonded in places beyond death. Beyond the grasp of her nightmares and the ears she had sent to follow his doomed march against the Imperium.

For the Hundred Houses did not bespoil themselves with the blighted politics beyond their borders. The aid of the Scarlet Legion was denied to him by the wrath of her father, so wretched was his fury at the audacious demands of human machinations. To the Harannossë, the empires and kingdoms of men that rose around them could wither to dust before the elves of the Silmorael woods rightly gave a single shit.

And so it was that Zeraphine had condemned herself to mourn the loss of her beloved in fervent solititude, wearing the seasons that passed with a resolve that ensured none of the Houses would know of the great weakness named Quintus Vexion that had levied her heart away from the obsessive Summer Wars.

None would know that she still wrote letters to him, unsent, and collected in a small guarded chest, riddled with curses and biting shroud should someone go peeking where their eyes were unwelcome.

But that was before the anniversary of what would have been the union between their two houses. And that was before the grief she harbored began to grow into an angry and vengeful thing. Now, it hungered for a retribution so absolute that she could almost taste the salted ash of their razed lands on the wind. The idea of that blood between her teeth was like an addictive ambrosia, and her spiteful nature would not let her rid herself of these cold ambitions to find those responsible and have them beg for her mercy on their knees.

You did not take from House Batahlia without recompense.

So she sent missives and spies into the last place she had known Quintus resided, into the deep hovels and mercenarial drenched streets of Crorefell. No matter how long it took, she would have answers. An elf knew nothing if not the value of patience before striking.

@The Prince of Tatters