Categories > Original > Romance > Confessions
Second Letter
0 reviewsStrangely enough, Kristine hasn't gotten all of her guilt off of her shoulders. She desperately needs someone to talk to but she knows that no one must ever find out about her love for a man she ca...
-1MarySue
Emilia,
I did not think I would ever be writing to you again-and so soon!-but fate has a different path for me than I expected. Yet, once again, I find myself yearning for something I cannot have: his returning love for me.
Parties are difficult for me to attend, for I know that I cannot touch him publicly as my mother would my father. And I cannot stay by his side as he thanks every guest for attending his ball. I cannot stand to close to him if we ever dance, for certain peoples spread vicious rumors.
The way his shoulder-length hair is always neatly tied with a black ribbon makes my heart leap. I so desperately want to run my hands through his brown locks, but I would be wise not to do so, for my family would disown me for publicly touching a person of superior rank inappropriately.
I do not understand why I feel this way. One moment I would do anything in the world for him to take notice of me, but then I can loathe him passionately the next moment, simply because he appears infallible. If only I could be a blonde blue-eyed goddess, maybe then I would have a chance. But alas, I am imperfect and therefore, I am thought of as such.
The noble ladies at the balls walk past me as if I blend into the tapestry behind me. They make sure I am only talked to when absolutely necessary. However, I take comfort in knowing that there is at least always one person who looks at me as if I have some special purpose.
Although I am a high noble myself-higher than those, with their abnormally large noses stuck in the air, who look on me with disdain-my family's heritage is grotesque.
I shall tell you quickly why it is that I am looked down on with such scorn: my great-great-grandfather played a major role in the war. He was a spy. Plainly and simply put, a spy is never a good role to take up, for one side or the other will hate you in the end. (I am hesitant to say "hate" because it is such a powerful word, but is love not also a strong word?) Anyways, my grandfather was quick to turn a double agent. He had a place secure for him no matter who won.
In the final battle, things were looking bad for--what is known as today-the "right" side (the king's side). So my grandfather finally chose his loyalties and, inevitably, chose the "wrong" side. You can imagine who won. Originally, the King wanted to make my family into servants, but his daughter changed his mind. Cierra, the King's daughter, had fallen in love with my great-great-grandfather and spared his life by marring him. The King did not have the heart to tell his daughter no, so he let my grandfather keep his rank, but his name would forever be known as traitorous.
People do not hate me because of something I did, but rather what my great-great-grandfather did. Why must people always judge the actions of your ancestors instead of finding out for themselves, how someone truly is? Why must I pay for what my grandfather did? But I have gotten off the subject. I meant to tell you of my feelings, not my history.
Time is my conflict yet again, and to whom I must concede. It is late and I have court to go to early on the morrow. I am sad to say my goodbyes but it must be done.
Farewell my friend-for surely now that I have confided in you, you must be a friend-and hopefully you will not find yourself in the same predicament I find myself in. I also wish that you will find plenty of time to do the things need be, to help you on this journey called life. Goodbye for now, for I will not say I shall not write again, for I very well might, but only if I say those forbidden words.
Your friend,
Kristine
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A/N: Please review! Tell me what you think. I know this letter was worse than the first one. I particularly don't like it as of now. I think I'm going to revise it more and change a few things, so if I do, I'll post the updated one up here.
I did not think I would ever be writing to you again-and so soon!-but fate has a different path for me than I expected. Yet, once again, I find myself yearning for something I cannot have: his returning love for me.
Parties are difficult for me to attend, for I know that I cannot touch him publicly as my mother would my father. And I cannot stay by his side as he thanks every guest for attending his ball. I cannot stand to close to him if we ever dance, for certain peoples spread vicious rumors.
The way his shoulder-length hair is always neatly tied with a black ribbon makes my heart leap. I so desperately want to run my hands through his brown locks, but I would be wise not to do so, for my family would disown me for publicly touching a person of superior rank inappropriately.
I do not understand why I feel this way. One moment I would do anything in the world for him to take notice of me, but then I can loathe him passionately the next moment, simply because he appears infallible. If only I could be a blonde blue-eyed goddess, maybe then I would have a chance. But alas, I am imperfect and therefore, I am thought of as such.
The noble ladies at the balls walk past me as if I blend into the tapestry behind me. They make sure I am only talked to when absolutely necessary. However, I take comfort in knowing that there is at least always one person who looks at me as if I have some special purpose.
Although I am a high noble myself-higher than those, with their abnormally large noses stuck in the air, who look on me with disdain-my family's heritage is grotesque.
I shall tell you quickly why it is that I am looked down on with such scorn: my great-great-grandfather played a major role in the war. He was a spy. Plainly and simply put, a spy is never a good role to take up, for one side or the other will hate you in the end. (I am hesitant to say "hate" because it is such a powerful word, but is love not also a strong word?) Anyways, my grandfather was quick to turn a double agent. He had a place secure for him no matter who won.
In the final battle, things were looking bad for--what is known as today-the "right" side (the king's side). So my grandfather finally chose his loyalties and, inevitably, chose the "wrong" side. You can imagine who won. Originally, the King wanted to make my family into servants, but his daughter changed his mind. Cierra, the King's daughter, had fallen in love with my great-great-grandfather and spared his life by marring him. The King did not have the heart to tell his daughter no, so he let my grandfather keep his rank, but his name would forever be known as traitorous.
People do not hate me because of something I did, but rather what my great-great-grandfather did. Why must people always judge the actions of your ancestors instead of finding out for themselves, how someone truly is? Why must I pay for what my grandfather did? But I have gotten off the subject. I meant to tell you of my feelings, not my history.
Time is my conflict yet again, and to whom I must concede. It is late and I have court to go to early on the morrow. I am sad to say my goodbyes but it must be done.
Farewell my friend-for surely now that I have confided in you, you must be a friend-and hopefully you will not find yourself in the same predicament I find myself in. I also wish that you will find plenty of time to do the things need be, to help you on this journey called life. Goodbye for now, for I will not say I shall not write again, for I very well might, but only if I say those forbidden words.
Your friend,
Kristine
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: Please review! Tell me what you think. I know this letter was worse than the first one. I particularly don't like it as of now. I think I'm going to revise it more and change a few things, so if I do, I'll post the updated one up here.
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