Hardoleth

It was foolhardy to think that I could spend time with this woman and not grow attached, I knew it the night I questioned our attachment and asked what it is that we are doing here.

I knew that we could not remain friends and simply stay that way indefinitely whilst we shared one another's beds. A decision had to be made one way or another. A decision I did not want to make, a decision I knew I had to take.

Although it has been several days since my utter humiliation and likely end to whatever it was that I shared with Seaver. I cannot get the look on his face out of my mind, I shudder each and every time I picture it, like a hammer blow to the chest. As much as I had thrown myself back into everything that must go on as normal, my thoughts have been consumed with it and continuously playing out a different outcome, one where I had stilled my tongue instead and kept my heart in check.

Left to the sands at such a young age as the Variag describes it, abandoned by her mother whom her master later bid her to murder in order to prove her worth and her loyalty. It is perhaps unsurprising that the dark skinned beauty I have come to know is so cold. Unfeeling. And yet sympathy stays my blade. I have for long enough in the past played judge, jury and executioner when the darkness took me. At first hunting down individuals myself. Then in the hiring of a murderer I thought I could control when my face had begun to be too well known to do so effectively.

I had been so elated of late. There seemed much to take heart from, but mayhaps it is fanciful of me to think all is well, because in reality it is not, not all all.

Oh how I despair of myself, what is wrong with me, can I not write about other matters? You would think I had naught else happening in my life, I do, I have a good life, but it is a troubled one of late. I must remedy that.

At least Aanya's anger has subsided a little. Of course she has forgiven Seaver, I am of course to blame for it all even though it is an act performed by two. She baked him one of her pies. Since the guard who wronged her has been reassigned, the poor girl is no longer afraid to venture into that part of the village. She returned a little later, all smiles, it seems the pie never reached Seaver after all, his men, flattered her so much, she agreed they may eat the pie amongst them, and she enjoyed an hour or so in their company.

I am beginning to question the usefulness of you oh journal of mine.

Night after night I open you up, put ink to pen. And I sit. My mind a muddle of conflicting thoughts as always it is. Never is it simple. How I long for clarity. Instead, I sit here conducting fully fledged debates inside my head as I have so often in this book. Contradictory as my conclusions can be from one minute to the next.

My Darling Son,