I dedicate this to you,

[erside]

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.

... 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.

[erside]

Catildre,

I am no longer. A statue, lifeless and crumbling. There are so many things that I should have done differently in my life.

I was tricked by you. My heart with its strings tugged at your whim.
I tried, the best I could. I fought tooth and nail against two dozen, or more.
In the end, I was not that strong. Even without my blessings, you outshined me. I still tried.
And in whatever little way I could, I succeeded.
Yet the hole in my heart still exists, from when you were gone.

I miss your pranks. I miss your dresses and watching you proudly model for them in Aegis.
I miss how you laughed, your smile, and the joy you brought me which fulfilled me so.
I thought maybe I could perform something grand for you, an ode for you to hear.
A declaration so wild to proclaim what I have felt for you all these years, even in this lifeless form.

I used to believe you were insane. That at some point, you would snap and inevitably do what you turned out to do.
You still are, and but I think I have gone mad too.
But I was right about something...
"And I will say it with my chest when I see you."

"How much I have wanted to say these things to you. That I never got the chance to do- That I was never allowed to do in my life. Or perhaps that I've just been unlucky to do."
"That after everything... I could still look you in the eye."
"I could still see your smile."

"And work up the courage to say--"



"... And when I finally have. I know that in time, some way, or some how.. You will reply with-"



I love you too

The note is left unfinished, running ink that seems to have accidentally spilled over the following words, whatever they may have been.