Her eyes suddenly softened, and she brought her fingers to his cheek.
"Don't you die on me? I won't forgive you!" And just like that, he knew. She understood.
"Never," he said and embraced her.
"You will wait for me, right?" He found himself saying.
"Of course, you silly, I am not going anywhere. I will always be here, Royce. You are my dearest friend, after all."
And with that, she dealt him a deadly blow. He didn't want to be her friend...but she was still pining for Francis. He would win her, he promised himself. He had to.
CHAPTER 2
June 12th, 1813
Dearest Royce,
I hope this letter finds you in good health (I won't accept anything else from you!) Everybody has felt your absence. It's been barely two months, and I still can't believe that you've left. Sometimes, in the mornings, I still wake up hoping you will arrive on my doorstep to go riding. Silly, isn't it? But then, of course, we have never been apart in our lives. Even Mr. Moustache misses you. He's been quite surly; lately, he doesn't even drink his milk. It is preposterous! He didn't even like you!
Frances and I haven't spoken much of late. He is always in Town nowadays (chasing after married ladies, I have no doubt). Mother says I will finally have my season next spring. Isn't it magnificent? I will yet be able to keep a closer eye on Francis. I told you I will marry him, and I will!
How are you? I keep picturing you on the front, and every time I try to think positively, my mind betrays me, and I picture you bloody and suffering.
Please tell me that is not true! Please let me know you are perfectly fine. I wish I could say more to you, but I do not know what. I miss you terribly! (Who else is to keep up with me?)
Write to me soon!
Your faithful friend,
Elis
July 2nd, 1813
Elis,
Your letter has brought me extreme joy. I miss you terribly, as well! I miss home, and I even miss Mr. Moustache! (That is something in itself).
Our battalion hasn't suffered many casualties. Fortunately, I am yet unhurt, and I hope to remain so. War was nothing like I imagined.
Oh, Elis!
Everywhere I look, there is death. It beckons, and many follow. I want to be strong! For you, for my family... The smell of rotten flesh, the sight of corpses in all states of putrefaction, follow me even in my sleep. I have finally understood what death is. It comes when you least expect it. It has suddenly become so real. The other day I spoke with a soldier, a friendly fellow of about nineteen. Now he is dead! He gave his last breath, asking me to comfort his widowed mother. I wept! Oh, Elis, how I cried for the life he would never live and the pain that widowed woman will feel.
I just hope I will make it whole. I so wish to see your face one more time!
But I promised I wouldn't die, didn't I?
I will come home, Elis! I will!
Yours faithfully,
-R
July 28th, 1813
Dearest Royce,
I am so infinitely happy to hear you are all right. My heart goes to you for everything you have suffered and still have to bear. I just hope my letters will alleviate some homesickness and maybe take your mind off that blasted war.
Mother has organized a small ball in the country, and she has let me attend it! Isn't it wonderful? I finally got a taste of what my season will be like! Of course, it would be a lot better if you could be there. Just in case, I'm saving you my second dance! (The first I have already promised to Francis)
Papa danced with me at the country ball, and it was dreamy. Oh, Royce, it was so much fun! (Of course, I wasn't allowed to waltz; everybody frowned at me when I suggested)
Mr. Moustache seems to have found himself a lady. He is always visiting the stables! (One of these days I shall catch him).
I know that everything must seem grim right, but you must not lose hope, for you shall see, there is always light at the end of the tunnel.
Your faithful friend,
-Elis
September 1st, 1813
Dearest Royce,
I haven't received any word from you. Are you all right? I pray every day that you are safe from all the perils of the war.
Write to me!
-Elis
January 3rd, 1814
Dearest Royce,
You can't be dead! No... I will not allow it. You better write to me and tell me that you are all right! (Otherwise, I may have to take it upon myself and come to make sure you are)
P.S. Mr. Moustache has kittens, a lot of them (I named one Royce, and I am giving him quite a hard time pretending it's you. So you'd better write!)
Your faithful friend
-Elis
CHAPTER 3
March 1814
Royce looked at the letter in his hands, tears threatening to make their way down his cheek. He could not possibly respond to her. What should he say? That he was no longer the same carefree man, she had one known? That his mind was a dark and scary place full of cannon sounds and pictures of splashing blood. No, war was not how he had imagined it would be. He had already lost so many friends on the battlefield, some even in his arms. He felt tainted
