Fiction: Love Letters

[clare_dragonfly]

Title: Love Letters
Word count: 1,339
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: rainbowfic Tyrian Purple 21, lifelong affair; Heart Gold 9, Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. - Lao Tzu; dailyprompt "lost dreams"
Notes: Been a while since I've written in this world! And oh, look, it's just as depressing as before XD Maybe someday I'll write the other half of this exchange--she does get responses. Warning for slight fictional racism and implied character death.


Dearest Beshtok,
He reads no Ara, so I can write to you whatever I wish. I have told him that I am writing to my younger brother, so he does not question it. Please do convey my love to Chalak, and to everyone in my family. Please tell them I am comfortable here, and safe. I would not have you tell them so much of a lie to say that I am happy.

To you I cannot lie enough to say that I am even comfortable or safe. Physically, yes, there is every comfort (except for the nights with my husband, but I would not hurt you by telling you of those). All the delicate foods I could wish and the softest cushions to lie on. I even have Arite maids, though I do not know them well yet—but at least we can converse in our language, and they are other women of my own nation so that we can take comfort in each other surrounded by these coarse Tovran men.

I miss you so much, my beloved. I would give up all these luxuries in a heartbeat to spend only one night in your arms.

I cannot believe for more than a short time that I am safe. My husband does not trust me. I wonder why he forced me into this marriage if he does not wish to spend time with me, but he does not seem to understand when I question him about it. He sees me as a possession, not a woman to spend time with. But at the same time he forces me to learn his language. I do not mind that so much, except that the more of his language I learn, the more I will be expected to converse with him.

The girl they have teaching me Tovran (for they would never trust a man to be alone with me enough to teach) is as small and frightened as any Ara woman, but she refuses to learn our language or do any conversing but to keep me to my prescribed lessons.

I love you. Those are words I will never teach to my Tovran husband, nor will I say them in his language.

They are keeping the old mail routes that our nation built. That is a comfort, at least. I will write you again with more news.

Yours,
Sitha

Dearest Beshtok,
I am pregnant with his child. I can only pray that you do not hate me. Please understand that I had no choice.

I hate this thing, this half-breed parasite growing inside me. The convenience of the interruption in my menses is not worth it. I will be happy to give it up to another woman to nurse as these Tovrans say they do. Perhaps a Tovran woman will be happier with a Tovran man’s child—though there are few enough of those.

I have one consolation: he is solicitous of the child, kissing my belly though there is nothing to see or to feel yet. I no longer fear that he will strike me when he is angry, at least not while I still carry this child. Perhaps it will drop unexpectedly, as pregnancies sometimes do, especially when it is the woman’s first. I do not know how our two races can be compatible enough to produce a child.

Please convey my love to Chalak and the others, and tell them that the city is well-supplied in the event of a siege, but that my maids and I know how to poison the water should we find an opportunity.

Yours,
Sitha

Dearest Beshtok,
I blush to recall my last letter for more reasons than one. Of course you do not hate me! I appreciate your reassurances. You may not share my circumstances but I am glad you understand my sacrifices.

I also blush because I cannot imagine what I felt when I wrote that I hate my child. It is not here yet, but my belly is swollen and I feel the child inside, turning and kicking, at all hours of the day. He (for I am sure it is a boy) does not want his mother’s attention to waver for a moment, no! His father laughs to feel the kicking with his hand pressed to my skin, but he cannot know the intimacy I feel with this little one alive in me.

He is no parasite. How could I say that?

I can only imagine how much more I would love him—ten times more, a hundred times more—were you his father instead of my Tovran husband. But perhaps he will be the beginning of our family one day in the future.

I must be more careful with the words I use in future letters, for my husband understands some Ara words from my speech, and has begun to puzzle out the alphabet.

Please convey my love to Chalak and the others, and tell them that all is prepared for their arrival, if only I could know when it would be.

Yours,
Sitha

Dearest Beshtok,
The child is here! I was only able to hold him for an hour before he was taken away. I tried to explain to my husband, in his language, why I wished to keep my own child and nurse him, but he will never take the words of a woman seriously. At least the wet-nurse (as they call it) is one of my dear friends here, though it breaks my heart to know that the reason she has milk is that her own twin girls were born dead.

They have given him a name I cannot pronounce—Kechun. (I will write it in Tovran: Qæjun.) It means “great warrior” or something along those lines. I cannot understand why they would give him that name when he is only an infant.

They take him away from his mother, give him a name she cannot say, what else will they do to separate me from my child? Perhaps it is for the best, after all, though I will give him a name in our language. I will not write it here because I do not wish my husband to learn it. I hope that you will learn it soon.

I love you. Please tell Chalak and the others that I love them as well. Tell them that the northern approach is best.

Yours,
Sitha

Dearest Beshtok,
Life here is more lively now that I have a child, and a few of my maids have some of their own on the way as well. My son gives us something to do. Thankfully, he is not yet considered a man to be prevented from the women’s chambers!

Otherwise, things are as dull as ever. My husband does leave me alone more often now than he did before. Apparently the goal for these Tovrans is to create an heir, and now that he has one, he does not need so many children.

I am pleased to hear about Chalak. Please tell him that I love him. I love you as well (though far more, like the stars and the sky and the sun). Tell them that the archers train daily but the swordsmen are lazier.

Yours,
Sitha

Dearest Beshtok,
My husband fears that another war is coming. He is even more strict with us—something that I did not believe possible.

I know he does not trust me. He never smiles when he looks at me now unless I am holding my son.

I love you. I miss you desperately. Please come soon.

Tell them that we are all hungry at the end of winter.

Yours,
Sitha

Dearest Beshtok,
It will not be long now.

I love you. I will be here protecting my son.

Yours,
Sitha

Dearest Beshtok,
If you receive this, please know that I love you and nothing can change that. And that I am sorry.

My execution has been set for tomorrow at dawn.

Yours, always, and forever,
Sitha

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Comments

[anke]

Mostly makes me wonder about the relationship between the two countries, and the, um, linguistic isolation.

[clare_dragonfly]

The Tovrans have recently conquered Ara. They came from far away, hence the completely unrelated languages (plus Ara is pretty isolated).

[aldersprig]

ooh *sniffle*

[clare_dragonfly]

I'll take that as a compliment :D

[tarnished]

So good as usual. It raises so many questions! Also her "I'll just poison the water supply no big deal" comments were thrown in so casually I didn't even realize what she was doing until the end! Wonderfully written.

[clare_dragonfly]

Oh, thank you so much! :D That is totally what I was going for--basically, something that wouldn't be obvious if her husband or another Tovran were to read the letters.