The Scourge Called Death

Tucklen, Skolten. Silver Age, 883

If you're reading this, it means that I've died. I have a pretty good idea how, but hopefully it was something more spectacular than whatever most likely happened.

I've enclosed four five six seven eight nine letters to my two three four five siblings, my father. and my family.

.

To Edan - you better find a man.

and Colton - you both know what this means. Don't make me come back to haunt you for being chickens (phrase is used lightly because I've seen what chickens can do and neither of you can do these things).

To Maddock - I want grandchildren. Between you and Edan, there should be plenty.

To Ailsa - I'm sorry I couldn't see you grow into the beautiful woman you're turning out to be. Don't let our thick-skulled brothers push you around, you are the woman of the family and therefore the most powerful.

To Freja - I love you. Please remember that, and I am so sorry. Make sure my brothers stay in line. Tell our children I love them.

To Manas and Rane - You are stronger than you know. Hold your heads up high, and never let anyone say otherwise.

.

My dearest, most loyal and ridiculous clot of a brother.

Try again?

My dearest Edan.

I want to start off this letter by telling you for certain: however I've died is not your fault. Unless you put a bullet in my head or a sword in my stomach, there is truly nothing you could have done. Stop blaming yourself, I hate watching you get stuck in your endless loops of 'what if'. If there is one wish you couldn't grant me in life, than I ask it of you in death.

I cannot be sure how it came to be that I passed, but now seems as good a time to tell you as any. I'm sorry, Edan, that I couldn't tell you before. I'm not writing this letter as any sort of death wish, nor because of some gloomy out look I have in mind for my future. I write hours after I've found out of a malady that ails me. The doctors think it's some sort of plague, but one of the young apprentices thinks otherwise. Something to do with blood cells and infection. It's uncommon, but no one has survived it yet. I hate to be dismal, but the doctors have given me an estimate of around three years to live.

You're probably wondering why I haven't told you. Understand, Edan, that I love you more than anything, and I would tell you anything, walk to the ends of this hollow world for you. It pains me to keep this from you, and perhaps I've told you by now, or you've guessed, but it matters not. I could not tell you for the very same reason that I started this letter with. You could do nothing about this illness, nor did I want you fawning over me like a child. I could not bear it, Edan. I could not bear having you, nor Maddock suffer for my part. This is my burden to bear, none of you should have to.

Talking enough of death and suffering, I hope you've found a lovely man to tame your heart and punch the frown off your face. Or something your dearest sister would rather not speak of about her brother. You're welcome.

I hope you're doing well by me. I'd expect nothing more of my innocent older brother. Keep Maddock in line, and punch him if his spirit is dampened at all. He needs to know that this world needs more people like him, even if he doesn't realise. He needs to know that Tucklen will do better under him. Under both of you. He needs you, Edan.

There's so much more that I want to put in this letter. Perhaps it will turn into something of a diary for however long I last, updating as life continues on. If not, I love you so very much, keep your chin up. Be brave, be strong, be more handsome than you are now and start smiling. Preferably at men. (there is a sketchily drawn smiley face below)

All of my love (that which is not taken by Maddock and my/our parents), my courageous brother.

Lyndon.

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Elmsback, Skolten. Silver Age, 886. Ninth Hunt Moon

My dear brother.

This is for Edan, if you hadn't guessed because it's attached to the other letter.

If I'm being honest, I had forgotten that I wrote these letters.

It's been three years since I wrote that first letter and now, I feel as if it is time for an update on life.

I'm not dead yet. Sorry, that's actually kind of funny to write. What a sight I must be, sitting here giggling unladylike over a letter because I haven't died. I presume you don't find my humour as funny, but here's to hoping that you've developed a sense of humour.

Only four days after I wrote the first letter, mum came to me and told me something wonderful. Obviously, you already know this, but we've had another little sibling on the way. I got my wish, I'm finally not the only woman in this family. Ailsa is bundles of joy, and I look forward to day I finally have my own children. Not literally.

Oh! I'm married! Of course, you know. You were at the wedding, you've met her. Freja is the light of my life, Edan. It's been a year and I know you're still a little skeptical of her, but I hope you've accepted her by the time you read this. If you haven't, I guess I'll have to convince you.

Freja has taught me patience and grace in this year of joy and happiness. She's so sweet and kind and great. She's more patient than I am, and she understands me without as many words as you or Maddock need before you try and fail to comfort me. She just...she understands, Edan. I hope one day, you'll see that too.

I hope you find someone like her. I mean for yourself, not literally another Freja. I love her, but that sounds frightening.

Keep your chin up, don't be so grumpy, brother. I love you.

Lyndon.

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Rudberry, Skolten. Silver Age, 888. Seventh Hunt Moon

(the writing is somewhat shaky, but Lyndon's neat script is still very legible)

Dearest grump.

It's been five years and I'm still here. Recently I started thinking about the malady and I've realised I don't really want to die. How silly is that? Five years ago I just accepted that I would slowly die. Two years ago, I married the love of my life even though I was sure I would soon pass, but I wanted to hold every moment close and do things I've always wanted to do before I died. Now, I'm two years past my expiration date and now I'm scared.

Do you remember those scarves that mother bought me? When I was twelve? Remember the way I loved them, the feeling of the fine silk against my neck, and how I would still wear them at nineteen? Now I must, for even though I still love all of them, there are marks, rashes on my neck, and this kingdom can never know that our house is weak or, goodness forbid, carrying some awfully contagious disaese. Don't worry, it's not.

But Edan, even though I carry this grim news, I also bear the happiest of my life. Freja and I have been talking for some time, and our visit to the village Rudberry, where I am currently writing this letter, has finally secured our long talks of it. We adopted a child, Edan. I'm so elated that my hands shake as I write this letter, only hours after signing the contracts.

You must have questions I've already answered, but for my own sake I'm answering them again. His name is Manas, he's only six hunt moons old, and he's the most adorable thing I've ever laid eyes on. Besides Ailsa, of course.

Oh Edan, I do so hope you love him as I do. You don't even realise how very much this means to me, but maybe someday, you will. When you have children of your own.

Speaking of Ailsa, by the by, she's really growing up. She's two already, and she's turning out ever such a proper, if not quiet, little lady. I hope you and Mad don't corrupt her. I shall be rather cross with the both of you. One day, I shall teach her my tricks, and you two will never dare provoke her in the slightest.

I can hear Freja calling for me now. I should go- although I suppose I'll come back to write in everyone else's letters too. And I thought it was a list with only my siblings, dear me no, now I've got an even larger family then before. I do realise now I've forgotten to mention that Maddock was married early this year, a lovely woman named Ione. She's very beautiful, and she makes Mad happy.

My, my, brother. Surrounded by women. Whatever shall you do? (there's nearly illegible scribble, but the word 'get a husband' are still visible, if the reader squints hard enough).

My dearest calls to me and I must answer her summons. Until next I write, clothead brother mine.

Lyndon.

p.s. the date is funny. don't tell me it hasn't made you laugh.

.

who knows, Skolten. Silver Age, 892. Fifth Hunt Moon

(the writing is jerky, but not the same way the last letter was. It is still clear as day and beautifully scripted)

Edan.

I don't have much time or light to write this, but I've only just found these letters once more in a box I'm carrying with me. Freja convinced me to write another to all of you, and even as I write, she sits across from me with that endearing smile of hers. She's so lovely, Edan. Obviously, you know this, but I haven't updated since my last letter. Freja and I now have a daughter. Her name is Rane, and she's clever and sly already, and only one year.

She's already too much like me.

However, despite my joy to be with my family, I bear grim news. You know our Sir Broehain, who would have my hair for writing this, has reported a disturbance in our keep. Oh, Edan. Someone wants Freja and my little ones dead. We've tried to keep as low a profile as possible, you know what the council thinks of relationships like ours, but someone found out. Nobody else knows, everybody else still thinks she's our cousin and that Manas is her son and Rane her niece whose parents were killed in the war.

But brother, I'm scared for them. I've waited since I was sixteen to die from some god-awful disaese nobody knows about, and now I'm twenty five and my family is being threatened at a gullotine. I never thought I'd know fear overbearing the kind I had when I first learned of my malady, and now I'd give anything to feel only that fear, the fear for my own life, again. But losing the ones I love? There is no way I could ever come to terms with it. Not now, not ever.

So now, I'm forced to let my Freja take Manas and Rane to a keep down south, near the border, to protect them. I'm forced to take them there and leave them, because they will be safer there than with me. Or so everyone says. I don't feel as if they are any safer at all.

I'm sorry this letter has been filled with only complaints and heartache, but I cannot find the light in me right now. I must part with Freja soon, and she will take all the light left in me soon enough, along with my heart and soul - Manas and Rane.

But I will remain strong, Edan. Just as we always have, we will survive. We will fight. I will live to see the sun rise, and set, and rise again. I will see that my family, extended and biological, stays safe from harm. My will cannot break. It won't. I am seeing you again, in three weeks after the journey back and once I'm home, I will fall into your arms, and we can pretend we're children again. We can pretend we're little, and your the good older brother, showing the ways of the world. We can press flowers and pretend like this world isn't a wreck. Leave all the war behind, the Wolkynns and the politics.

If only it were so simple.

I can't see my own writing anymore. Goodnight, Edan.

Lyndon.

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Paton, Skolten. Silver Age, 893. (this last letter is only dated a few months ago)

Edan.

I'm in the Capitol right now- well, I should say, we're in the Capitol. The memory of these letters has crossed my mind many times recently, but I felt now I needed to write one.

Please Edan, I'm almost tempted to give this to you now, if only to convince you of my intentions. You are the same brother I knew, the same brother I grew up with, who taught me how to hold a sword and shoot a bow, how to bake bread and sew clothes. The same brother who would sing to me, because I liked the tenor of your voice, read to me, because you made me laugh. Who held me when I cried and listened when I was angry, took care of me when I was hurt. (there's a patch just to the side of the words were the paper was warped by liquid) No curse could change that, Wolkynn or otherwise.

You are no different, and you never will be. They won't let me see you, Edan, and it's tearing my heart in two. Colton is here with me. He doesn't know what I write, but he knows it's for you. He's pulling every string he has, bullying, pushing and nearly ready to fight the entire army just to bring me to see you, although I suspect he would rather desire greatly to do so himself, as he broke his fist upon a stone wall, not a few hours ago. He even put a crack in it, although the cost - and sight - of his mangled hand was perhaps not quite worth the price.

Mad is going...well, he's going mad. He's been yelling a the dungeon guards for hours, Ailsa barely managing to keep him from bashing their skulls together on a witch hunt to come and rescue you. You've caused an uproar here, and I'm sure that the King has been pacing for hours in his study. He wouldn't even let Colton in, last time he checked, which is why he came here. He says he came to be there for me, but really, I think he didn't know what to do with himself. He's also been biting his nails like he a starving man upon a feast.

Honestly, brother, this is the sort of uprising I would normally commit. Everything will turn out, I know it will. Father will convince them to let me and Colton and Maddock and Ailsa in to see you, or even Colton will, or maybe even the King.

I think King Tremaine understands, if he sentences you to death, Colton would never forgive him, and a divided house is the last thing this kingdom needs.

But I don't want this letter to be filled with sadness. The war is moving fast now, and I don't know when the next time I can actually write will be.

Not so much as changed since last year. Freja and the kids are still in Elmsback, awaiting my return. Iona and father are coming in from Tucklen to see. You still are painfully single, and once I drag you from the prison cell, I am going to get you and prince charming together, or so help me, Edan! (scratch prince charming. the only thing he's prince of is biting his bloody nails, kingdom and skolten be damned)

You'll marry Colton, rule Skolten and knock everyone senseless who thinks the two of you being together is gross and unholy, win the war, have kids and visit your grandfather's farmhouse again. Honour your father's memory. All as a Wolkynn and my brother, Edan Engeram, son of Callum Engeram and Rossalyn Abreu, brother to Maddock and Ailsa Abreu. Wear it like a crown.

Honestly, if anyone gives you trouble about you and Colton, just bite them. Problem solved.

I truly, deeply love you, Edan. Never forget that. Hold your head up high, defy everyone's deepest beliefs, shatter the very cores of the earth, because I know you can. You, Edan, are the dawn of all the tomorrows to come, and the future of all these people. I know it. Call it a sick noblewoman's rambling, but at least try to understand.

Never forget your place, never forget what you can accomplish. Never forget yourself, Edan, and never forget how dearly you mean to those who love you.

Most importantly, brother, never afraid to be yourself. Skolten needs you. The world needs you. I need you. Be brave, be bold, and always be loving. Never stop loving, brother. Your heart is the purest of all.

You are the sunrise, fire heart.

Lyndon.

.

(there is a note, and there are several patches similar to the one on the last letter, where the parchment was warped by liquid. The few words written were clearly written in haste, and the script is not flowing or beautiful, but shaky and distraught in print. Whoever wrote it was probably in distress)

he wasn't supposed to die. i can't- (there is a streak following the last two words. It is smudged by whatever liquid was dripped haphazardly on the note. Following just above the line of the streak is dried blood smeared over the note)

Underneath the first envelope holding all letters with Edan in fancy, gold script, in another. In the same beautiful handwriting, it reads Maddock. The seal was broken, although clearly, there was a poor attempt to reseal it. The side of the envelope is spattered in blood, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out whose.

.

"She wanted it buried with him." there is no need to look up at the owner of such a gentle, song-like voice, that cracked like a frozen lake bearing too much weight. For why bother? It was only a bitter reminder of the past, gone like leaves in the wind.

Oh, there's temptation, a burning curiosity, to open the second envelope, but instead, it is only handed over to a tall, willowy woman, who looks drawn and pale, hair pulled roughly back to hide the knots. "She never meant to out live any of us." it wasn't a question, and both of them knew it.

But by some miracle, the betrayal and hatred and blame wasn't there. Instead, there was only two sibling shaped holes that shouldn't have been there at all. It felt all wrong, but all right at the same time, and if anything, that was were hatred was directed.

"No. I don't think she could have lived long after..." a pathetic silence filled the room as words dissolved in the air. Words, that felt both numbing and like needles at the same time. "She was ready to lose her own battle. She was never ready to watch someone she loved lose theirs. Not like that."

The dim glow from the fire burning low in the fireplace no longer felt warm. It felt just as cold and grey and gloomy as everything else did. It was as if the world was just dying. "And ye knew, but said nothing?"

"I would never break a promise."

There was a twitch, the sound of paper crinkling softly echoed like a clatter, no matter how quiet. Everything was too quiet. "Does it even matter? It didn't even matter. Maybe it never would have killed her, maybe the rash would have faded." the letters were carefully folded back into the ivory envelope, before the envelope was tucked safely into a warm, dark pocket. "None of it matters."

A knock sounded softly on the chamber door and it was more like a gunshot. Nothing moved for a long, pregnant moment, before the small woman stood, her eyes glistening. "She loved you." and left.

Silence, aside from the door being opened and closed, swallowed the room. The air was thick grief, anger and an awful feeling of limbo. An unimportant amount of time passed, before footsteps thudded softly in the small chamber.

The person who had come into the room sat down, face only lit up in the gentle fire light, but said nothing right away, only sat in silence as the fire crackled softly in the fireplace.

But the silence would not last forever, it could not last forever. The shadows needed to be chased away, the light needed to return. The dawn would come, and with it, the sunrise.

A warm hand was placed on his, and the man couldn't stop his eyes from flickering over to meet the other's gaze. The grief increased tenfold, but it was good. It was healthy, it was necessary, and the tears started to spill slowly. The other man, his own eyes glistening, only smiled, both devastated and hopeful.

"We'll make it. I promise you, Edan."

AUTHOR'S NOTE- thank you so much for reading The Scourge Called Death! This is a small piece from a novel I'm currently working on. This piece is unbeta'd, and only somewhat edited by me, so please forgive (and let me know!) about any grammar mistakes (at the end. any mistakes in the letter are most likely intentional). And apologies for vagueness at the end, and the awkwardness as consequence, but I felt that it was best to only reveal who was reading the letters at the end.

Once again, thank you for reading The Scourge Called Death! Feedback is greatly appreciated and welcomed!