The games we play with each other.
I’ve been too busy to write, so of course approximately a million things have happened since I last put quill to paper.
The melancholic humors that were consuming me have abated. While I am hardly past the horrors of the last few months, I have my feet under me again and can continue to move onward, trusting my healing to time.
Much of that I owe to Marisa. Courting, at last! I frankly don’t care at this point if we never marry. Though I suppose I must, for our baronies’ sake… but we are both young enough I think we needn’t worry. Well, I am. Do you know, I still don’t know how old she is? Four years we’ve known each other and she’s never confessed it to me. I suppose she must be thirty by now, but she hasn’t really aged a day since we met.
I have never been as happy as I was after her birthday party, after she accepted my gift and my suit. Never in my entire life. And I think it would have stayed that way… if I hadn’t seen him. I’d known that sigil anywhere, the morning bird.
I wasn’t prepared for how seeing him again would make me react. I’m still not prepared, truth be told. The contradictory feelings that reared up in me have only gotten worse after reading his letter.
You were my best friend in all the world, Bryne. I couldn’t understand when or how or why things went so incredibly wrong as to turn you into my enemy.
And now I’ve flirted with heresy myself by telling you about the warrant. I knew even as I put quill to paper that I shouldn’t be doing it, and the moment the letter was sent I regretted it. I probably could have paid the courier to give it back, and yet… I didn’t. I couldn’t.
I had to give you the chance to prove that you meant your words, but it’s already haunting me. What if that chance ends up being the death of someone who tries to take you in? What if that chance means you run away, unrepentent, uncleansed and unsaved to die just like Madi did? What you did wasn’t worthy of execution, but to run from it again… probably would be.
I don’t even understand why it’s so painful.
…enough of that. At least I’m working on something practical, meaningful right now rather than just sitting around. After reading her testimony, my resolve crystallized. Anyone who thinks bard is synonymous with whore is my enemy, and worthy of destruction. I think I could have taken my dagger to hand again and duelled him myself. It would have been unpleasant… at first. Then it would have been too pleasant.
But it wasn’t necessary, as the duel is just the theatre, the drama. The real work of taking him out happens behind the scenes. Still, people buy your vision a lot more easily when you spin it into a story they recognize. The wicked Justiciar, misusing his power and position to oppress the people. The righteous Proconsul, taking up his weapon to defend an innocent young maiden from the Justiciar’s perfidy. He demonstrates that the Reeves categorically reject their leader’s sins and still stand up for justice. The Justiciar is shamed, and the people’s faith is renewed.
Two birds, one stone.
Bryne, did you write me and only me because you suspected I was the weakest one out of everybody you wronged? Because you knew that I would find it so hard not to forgive you, after everything? Because you knew that if you could only convince me, I’d argue for you til my breath ran out? If you did, I guess you were right. Lord forgive me, I want my friend back – I want my partner back.
The games we play. Two birds, one stone.
At times I wonder just when our aim became so good, and if it’s actually a good thing.
