Forever Yours
12 December 1835
**Warning: This chapter does involve a character struggling with suicidal thoughts. There are no graphic descriptions, but if you are sensitive to this topic proceed with caution.**
Dear Frederick,
The cold, dark weather of this season well reflects the state of my soul. What is left in this life to bring me joy? To relieve, if only momentarily, the fear and the pain which constantly grips my heart? Only a dying spark of hope that I may one day reunite with my most beloved. Even these letters fail to raise my spirits any longer. What point is there in writing to a correspondent who shall never answer?
Why don’t you answer me, my love? Have you left this cruel earth before me? I wish I had way of knowing, for were I certain I would not hesitate to follow you into oblivion. Worse still, perhaps you are quite alive and well, and keep your silence because you no longer return the passion I have for you. Perhaps you never did. Oh, tell me this t is not true, Frederick! I cannot bear the thought.
I am foolish to have thought I could ever enjoy this life, and I have you to blame for such foolishness. The love we shared in our brief time together awakened in me a passion which I may otherwise never have known. Now, thanks to you, I have an appetite for it. But such pleasures have no place in the life of a nobleman, least of all that of a prince! My people marry for political gain, not passion, and he who seeks that passion elsewhere invites the scorn of his peers. Love is a luxury in this life of mine, one of few luxuries not within my grasp.
All this to say, my dearest Frederick, fear not if you receive no further letters from me. I may soon enough leave this world I so hate, and await you in whatever life, if any, comes next. There remains only for me to gather the courage to do the deed.
Forever yours,
Robert
Dear Frederick,
The cold, dark weather of this season well reflects the state of my soul. What is left in this life to bring me joy? To relieve, if only momentarily, the fear and the pain which constantly grips my heart? Only a dying spark of hope that I may one day reunite with my most beloved. Even these letters fail to raise my spirits any longer. What point is there in writing to a correspondent who shall never answer?
Why don’t you answer me, my love? Have you left this cruel earth before me? I wish I had way of knowing, for were I certain I would not hesitate to follow you into oblivion. Worse still, perhaps you are quite alive and well, and keep your silence because you no longer return the passion I have for you. Perhaps you never did. Oh, tell me this t is not true, Frederick! I cannot bear the thought.
I am foolish to have thought I could ever enjoy this life, and I have you to blame for such foolishness. The love we shared in our brief time together awakened in me a passion which I may otherwise never have known. Now, thanks to you, I have an appetite for it. But such pleasures have no place in the life of a nobleman, least of all that of a prince! My people marry for political gain, not passion, and he who seeks that passion elsewhere invites the scorn of his peers. Love is a luxury in this life of mine, one of few luxuries not within my grasp.
All this to say, my dearest Frederick, fear not if you receive no further letters from me. I may soon enough leave this world I so hate, and await you in whatever life, if any, comes next. There remains only for me to gather the courage to do the deed.
Forever yours,
Robert
♠ ♠ ♠
Don't worry, it doesn't end here. Thanks for the lovely comments! It's so nice to know someone besides myself is enjoying my writing! More to come soon.~ Celia