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So.
Did you honestly think you’d seen the last of me? That goes to show how little you learned over years, over centuries. Was I such a dreadful teacher? Perhaps you just didn’t pay attention. You certainly never asked the right questions.
I came across the stack of letters you addressed to me. Your careful–if biased–record of your second life, of your darkest deed: my murder, your confession. I suppose your guilty conscience still holds you fast no matter how much you try to tell yourself you don’t regret anything.
I say “addressed to me” when I very much did notice that you don’t use my name, not even once, not even after I gave you a new everlasting life, and a name to go with it. A name like a spell, my hope for you. But you proved to be the opposite, inconstant lover. I shall repay you with the same kindness then, your accursed name, and that of those other two traitors won’t cross my lips again.
You think you rid yourselves of me? The truth is you did me a great favor, ridding myself of you three. Granted, I didn’t expect such a violent farewell, but love is violent, and all things considered it could have been worse. Your little coup? It saved me the chore of having to destroy you. The raving angry mob you delivered me to? Nothing more than a nuisance.
Do I still love you? Did I ever love you?
Who can say now.
Not I, and certainly not you. You, who do not understand my heart at all it seems. But let me tell you again: Love is violent. Love makes monsters of us all. And we were monsters to begin with. So really, what did you expect?
The problem, my dear , was that you always wanted more. Nothing was enough for you. You wanted all of me, my present and future didn’t suffice. No, you wanted my past, my every thought, my every heartbeat. And what did you offer in return? Nothing but questions and complaints.
You felt so aggrieved that I had loved others before you, that I dared to love others after I met you. Doesn’t that just prove how full of love I was?
It doesn’t matter now, but let me answer one of your burning questions (and you already know this, but just so there is no doubt about it): No, of course you were not my first wife. I lived for centuries before I birthed you to the Night. Are you so cruel that you would have wanted me to spend all that time alone?
I can already guess your second question. Well, let me tell you. You couldn’t hold a candle to my first love. None of you could. She was truly all gifted , my greatest love and my greatest heartache. Nothing was the same after she was gone. Perhaps I couldn’t really give myself fully ever again, I may admit that. But you had no right to expect as much. I gave you more than any mortal could ever dream of. And what did you give me? Grievances and Death.
Another disappointment. Another failed experiment. No matter.
Do I hate you?
Sometimes. But even that fire burns less bright every day.
Go on, then. Pretend that all is well, that you succeeded, that I am no more. Make the most of my indifference.
But rest assured: I see you. That I choose not to follow a path of revenge is just another proof of my great mercy.
Let that brat prance under the spotlight. Let that ungrateful temptress meddle in politics.
As for you, my jewel?
You can play house with your new lovers all you want. See how much it lasts. I know you still wake up to disquieting thoughts of me. I know you see what you think is the ghost of me in a crowd. Let me tell you another secret: I am no ghost. It was me you saw that day, and I saw you. As beautiful as ever. Although I must say, you never looked more beautiful than when you looked at me with tearful eyes.
I won’t take any more of your time, my love. I don’t care for it anymore.
Let me leave you with a warning, though.
As forgiving as I am, little one, pray. Pray that our paths never cross again. Or the Dragon in me will tear you apart, and if you couldn't handle my love... Well, there's no way you can handle that.