Work Text:
File: L293M3X
13/28/10805
Classified
Level: APX
This file contains personal correspondence written by Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill to the Animorph Marco ******* on the planet Earth in the galaxy of Retira. This letter is dated 7/65/10804, four days before the ship, the Intrepid was attacked and Prince Aximili, captured by persons unknown. How the letter reached Earth is still unclear as it was not sent by the Andalite Interstellar Service. It was found, apparently unopened, by human secret services when the recipient’s house was searched after he was implicated in the Eskarion Scandal. The human Defence Department seized it and has since turned it over to the Intelligence Division. This document is classified, requiring Apex Level clearance due to its sensitive nature, and parts have been permanently censored.
________________________________________________________________________
7/65/10804
Marco,
I find myself unable to logically justify writing this letter to you, having not seen you for two of your Earth years. I can only assume I have at last given into my emotions after all this time. The other war princes often tell me that living among humans for so long has made me sentimental. Perhaps this is true. In any case, I have chosen to commit this utter folly, breaking several regulations and military code as well. A friend on a convoy travelling to Earth, the **********, has promised to deliver this letter for me as there is no chance of it making it past the censors.
Not that I imagine you will read it, once you see it is from me; you have as little tolerance for sentimentality as I do. Yet I am writing this anyways, a letter that no one will ever read. One of many futile gestures in my life.
I suppose it is only polite to inquire how you are, but you would not tell me that either, even if you could reply. I’ll have to assume then, assume that you are like me: that you wake with nightmares in the middle of the night. That you still turn around and expect to see the others there. That you cannot shake that paranoia that everyone around you is your enemy. That you cannot forget.
I guess that out of all of us, you and I came out of this the least damaged. And Cassie too. The three of us managed to continue living, to maintain some semblance of sanity. For whatever that’s worth, which is probably not much. You most likely do not care about what has happened in my life since I left Earth but I feel compelled to tell you anyhow, surprising as it is for me to volunteer to share the ‘secrets’ of my people, something you always seemed to resent.
Perhaps I resemble Rachel more than I thought as I found it impossible to consider the idea of giving up battles and bloodshed. Turns out there is no replacement for that singular rush of adrenaline. So I stayed with the military; as you may know I was promoted to war prince. On my return to the homeworld, I was also given command of a vessel, the Intrepid and for the past year we’ve been searching for the **********. There has just been a report of a possible sighting by a Skrit-Na freighter and we’re setting out tomorrow for the ********** Galaxy.
I know that this just confirms your belief that all I cared about was glory and living up to my brother’s reputation. You always think the worst of people, and in this case, you were wrong. I did not risk my life for —
I am getting off topic: the purpose of this letter is not to cast recriminations or discuss idle banalities. I am writing because for some reason I need to somehow define what happened between us in that last year of the war. I am sorry I am bringing this up now, long after the fact, but I am doing so all the same. I believe we had an unspoken agreement never to talk about it, never voice it, whatever it was, aloud. And why should we have? ‘It’ was only a few times in the middle of a war, and we were young and under unimaginable pressure. We both knew it could not last, for so many reasons, not the least being we are from completely different species. It was just something to keep us sane, to keep us going for one more day.
So we hid it, and we hid it well. None of the others ever found out, though I would not be surprised if Cassie had guessed at it. She always had a way of sensing those kinds of things. If she did though, she was too discreet to say anything and we carried on pretending we didn’t care, that it didn’t matter.
Except it did matter. It mattered a lot.
When I left, Tobias and Cassie came to see me off, but you didn’t. That’s when I knew — no, that’s not true. There is no point to this letter if I am not completely honest. That was when I allowed myself to admit how I felt. I’ve always known.
You will be amused at this, as you are cynical to a fault, but I remember standing on the shuttle, watching the door slowly close and the ground crew remove the access ramp. For a moment, I entertained the fantastical notion of jumping out of the shuttle and just running. Of ending up breathless and gasping in front of your house, ready to tell you everything. I don’t know where this idea came from; perhaps I’d seen too many romantic-comedies on TV during my stay on Earth. Of course, in actuality, I did not attempt to do anything of the sort, and here I am now, trying to find the words to say this.
Not that it changes anything, nor would it have if I had found the courage to act then. Why should it have? I do not delude myself into believing that it would have ended up any other way. Presumably you’ve moved on, and in truth, the reason I wrote this letter was to say goodbye as I do not think I’ll ever see you again.
But I cannot seem to do so without saying this. I am a coward and selfish, but so be it. I need to tell you what I should have said long ago, as useless and as foolish as it sounds: I love you.