Post by Seek on Jul 13, 2013 19:28:00 GMT 10
Title: Letters
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Letters, (#49)
Character/Couple/Theme: Mattes
Series: White Shores Calling
Summary: Mattes writes letters that will never be read.
Notes: This is sort of a Mastiff AU. Therefore, spoilers for Mastiff. Kind of.
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Dear Sabine
My Lady Sabine…
He hesitates. Ink drips. It doesn’t matter that she won’t ever read this letter, that he has no way of ever sending it. He can perfectly imagine her reading this—what is it? A letter that begs for forgiveness? For understanding?
The hillmen don’t really believe in the same set of gods the Tortallans do. In the same way, there’s no Black God for them. They don’t go to the Black God’s kingdom, or so they’d thought. He supposes there’s no real way of knowing. He’s thought about that a few times, in light of Beka’s gift.
Still, the worthy among the dead rise with the setting sun, to join the spirits of the ancestors as the bright stars in the heavens. The evil are torn apart by the Devourer, the one who preys on the dead and torments the living.
And the rest? Where do the rest go?
There are some things for which there can be no forgiveness. Mattes understands this, has understood this in the sick instant he saw the condemnation in Beka’s eyes.
When we ask you to kill, you kill. When we ask you to lie, you lie.
He’d known it, on some level. Lord Gershom must have known, too. That the moment he’d walked into that room, he was a dead man. A condemned man. A damned man. And they’d gone on to ask him to sell his soul anyway. For the sake of Tortall.
He hadn’t done it for Tortall. Tortall wasn’t his country. It was the land that was slowly eroding the hill country, grinding the rolling hills into rusty dust. It was the land that was bleeding the hill country dry, turning more and more hillmen into bandits with each passing year, while the young fled to the cities in search of a better life.
No, the hills were too deep in blood and bone, but he’d never been one of those who spoke of reclaiming the hill country either. He’d been content, with his life in Corus, even when the city was sometimes too stifling and on some days he couldn’t really see the stars.
My Lady Sabine, he writes.
Sometimes we don’t understand why we do some things. Sometimes, we understand all too well. I did some things for which there can be no forgiveness. I only hope that you will one day understand. What I did, I did because there was no other option.
I see his face every night.
Yours forever,
Mattes Tunstall.
There is too much else he wants to say, so instead, he settles for nothing.
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Letters, (#49)
Character/Couple/Theme: Mattes
Series: White Shores Calling
Summary: Mattes writes letters that will never be read.
Notes: This is sort of a Mastiff AU. Therefore, spoilers for Mastiff. Kind of.
-
My Lady Sabine…
He hesitates. Ink drips. It doesn’t matter that she won’t ever read this letter, that he has no way of ever sending it. He can perfectly imagine her reading this—what is it? A letter that begs for forgiveness? For understanding?
The hillmen don’t really believe in the same set of gods the Tortallans do. In the same way, there’s no Black God for them. They don’t go to the Black God’s kingdom, or so they’d thought. He supposes there’s no real way of knowing. He’s thought about that a few times, in light of Beka’s gift.
Still, the worthy among the dead rise with the setting sun, to join the spirits of the ancestors as the bright stars in the heavens. The evil are torn apart by the Devourer, the one who preys on the dead and torments the living.
And the rest? Where do the rest go?
There are some things for which there can be no forgiveness. Mattes understands this, has understood this in the sick instant he saw the condemnation in Beka’s eyes.
When we ask you to kill, you kill. When we ask you to lie, you lie.
He’d known it, on some level. Lord Gershom must have known, too. That the moment he’d walked into that room, he was a dead man. A condemned man. A damned man. And they’d gone on to ask him to sell his soul anyway. For the sake of Tortall.
He hadn’t done it for Tortall. Tortall wasn’t his country. It was the land that was slowly eroding the hill country, grinding the rolling hills into rusty dust. It was the land that was bleeding the hill country dry, turning more and more hillmen into bandits with each passing year, while the young fled to the cities in search of a better life.
No, the hills were too deep in blood and bone, but he’d never been one of those who spoke of reclaiming the hill country either. He’d been content, with his life in Corus, even when the city was sometimes too stifling and on some days he couldn’t really see the stars.
My Lady Sabine, he writes.
Sometimes we don’t understand why we do some things. Sometimes, we understand all too well. I did some things for which there can be no forgiveness. I only hope that you will one day understand. What I did, I did because there was no other option.
I see his face every night.
Yours forever,
Mattes Tunstall.
There is too much else he wants to say, so instead, he settles for nothing.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!