03-04-2024, 05:22 PM
Jokul,
I do not write often. I hate writing, truth be told. I only learnt how to do so to fulfill my duties and fill in my role in this world.
I have won your war. My oath to you, in full, has been completed.
Ymir's word is spread, Grimhjall will soon be ours after the cleansing,
I have prospects from your own family studying under my temple and your teachings.
I've done everything you have asked for me to do.
And yet, the hole in my heart is yet to be filled.
I miss carpentry. I miss carving a stone and cutting up wood to make ships in Port Fortune.
I miss the person who I loved so dearly, butchered and slaughtered out of fear by the masses.
I believed that perhaps achieving what had yet to be achieved in years would give me something.
A feeling that I can be someone who's name is not synonymous with yours.
I used to believe you were insane. At a point in time, I severely doubted that you could bring about the change you spoke about.
I was wrong.
But I was right about one thing, Ymir does not love equally.
And neither does humanity.
I am not satisfied. My oaths are fulfilled, and though I wish to return to that life you ripped away from me,
I fear that will never be a possibility again.
I fear that will never be a possibility again.
... If only things could begin anew, from the beginning once more, I could maybe still see my brother tending to people's wounds again. My adopted protege, raised by the real head of the Vorroag clan. My kin, learn about humanity and their love for mankind. My love, stargazing with her friends without the looming blade that hanged over her head all her life.
If only things could start again, then maybe I could have been a person of my own merit.
Though, I cannot be angry at you, so much as I should be angry with myself.
I dedicate this letter to you, Jokul.
So that perhaps you may forgive me for becoming the last of your failures.