Work Text:
To: Dr. Emily Wilde
Fae Castle
Silva Lupi
From: Wendell Bambleby
Fae Castle
Silva Lupi
Dearest Emily,
You might wonder why I left this letter behind to be found by you instead of giving it to you. Or talking to you - isn’t everything settled after all? Can I not tell you all my troubles and doubts? Have I not done that before?
The truth is, my dearest wife, I do not know how to tell you about this deepest fear that has plagued me since you’ve come back. How am I supposed to tell you that you might be the cause of these worries, when you will only try to solve it in a frenzy? I know you can’t this time - not like you always do. To soothe this worry of mine will take time. And is a more delicate matter of fragile feelings. We both know those aren’t always your strength.
So I am trying this different approach. This letter will find you when you have the time on your hands and the space in your marvelous mind to dwell on it.
It also gives me the opportunity to sort through my own thoughts. Writing it down helps; maybe I will make another attempt at keeping a diary.
Please do not misunderstand me. I do not wish to cause you pain or guilt or any emotions of such a pesky nature. You should always be happy here, Em. You already know that is my deepest wish. Still, I have to be selfish in this regard and tell you of my worries - unsettle you for a moment before everything can shift back into place. So our marriage can flourish even more beautifully than it already has.
I write these words with you by my side in a deep slumber covered by one of our blankets. Your hair is all ruffled, your neck still flushed where I kissed you earlier and you murmur in your sleep. Dreaming about your next great field study, no doubt a trip that will pull you into the most uncomfortable places you can find. And I am quiet sure mountains will be involved. But I will follow you there, Em. Because being without you is harsher than any frost, wind, or incline could ever be.
That is the crux of it, my dear Emily.
Several times now I’ve woken up and you had vanished to somewhere I couldn’t or wasn’t allowed to follow. It is not something I wish to experience again.
Everyday I live in fear of you vanishing, Em. Not due to your mortality or sickness or assassination, but because you choose to leave me behind. Not because you do not love me, but because you chose for me. Because you were afraid to share your plan with me for fear I wouldn’t let you go. Are you still afraid of the rage in me? Or is there still more that concerns you? I must admit it upsets me quite a lot not knowing the reason.
Many mornings I wake up and you’re already gone. You’re in your library or in the forest or busy with the common fae. And I love that about you, Em. But some mornings I can only rest after I haven’t found a note written by you, explaining why you have left.
It isn’t always like this, Em - but sometimes terror has me in its cold claws and doesn’t leave me until long after midday. Long after I have joined your frollicking around in our realm, pestering our fairies. I cannot fight it. I cannot suppress it.
I promised you once that I would never leave you behind. All I want in return is that you promise me the same. That your next act of saving a village, me, or my kingdom will be our adventure. I will follow you willingly.
As I’m writing these lines you are mumbling something in your sleep, but I can’t grasp it. Sometimes you murmur my name, on nights like these. Whenever that happens my heart soars. It seems tonight I’m not to be offered such an honour.
I should put down my pencil; my hand is starting to cramp and you appear to be waking up slowly. I’ll leave these lines in your library for you to find. Once you’ve read them I’ll be waiting right here again, where I wrote them. There is something poetic about referring back to the beginning, as you sometimes say about our stories. It’s important to go back to the beginning.
Anyway, my lovely wife, I shall seal this letter and join you under the blanket. I will hold you close and await your arrival back here once you’ve read this.
My love is eternally yours,
Wendell