So, I’ve heard it going around that there are quite a few Marc fans floating around – some who think he might have been a BETTER love interest than poor Tristan! He’s also one of my favourite characters, so when Bewitched Bookworms asked me to be a part of THE BIG LOVE LETTER EVENT last year, I knew this was my chance to write something for everyone’s favourite troll.
For those of you who haven’t read the novel yet, Marc is Tristan’s best friend and cousin, and he lost the love of his life a couple years prior to when the novel begins. The poor guy is only 19, and he’s suffered a world of hurt already.
It has been two years to the day since I lost you, and there are still moments when I swear I hear your laughter filling the corridors of our home. Mornings where I wake and turn my head, certain you will be beside me. Times when I half-imagine I can still feel the whisper of your emotions running through my mind.
But the house is silent.
Your side of the bed is cold.
And my heart and mind are empty of anything but my own hurt, the enduring pain of your loss written across my fingers in a black far darker and more permanent than any ink. I never intended to live a moment past the one in which your heart stopped beating – was sure that the bond linking our souls would mercifully pull me from this world so that I’d never have to know a life without you. Was I a coward to want that? Perhaps. I was certainly a fool to believe that would be how it would transpire, because when has life, or fate, or friend ever been kind to you and me? They call us the broken ones – those marked by isolation, darkness, and iron, but I never saw you that way. And you were the only one who never saw me that way. So if my desire to be where you are makes me a coward, then so be it. It was what I wanted. But the choice was taken away from me, and there have been times over these past years when I hated Tristan for forcing me to live a life I did not want. And then there are times…times when I do not know what I feel.
Change has come to our unchanging city – a wind whipping through streets that have not seen the elements in five hundred years. The Duchesse has spoken a prophesy promising a route to freedom, and it has come with the face of a flame-haired human girl named Cécile. She’s been bonded to Tristan, and in her, he’s more than met his match. I know you and he rarely saw eye-to-eye, but she’s changed him, and I think you’d better like the man he has become. The King we need him to be. And because of her, I think he better understands why you and I made the choices we did. For that, Cécile will always have my goodwill, for she has reconciled the two people I care for most. I wish you could meet her. I wish you could be here to see the change, experience the energy, and feel echoes of hope thrumming through the hearts of those who have never before known it.
But instead you are two years in the grave, and I can blame no one for your loss other than my own self. I can’t count the number of times I’ve cursed myself for acting on my feelings for you, because if only I’d limited myself to the bounds of friendship, you would still be alive. By loving you, I killed you, and that guilt weights heavily upon me. Yet when Cécile asked me today if I would bond you again, knowing what I do now, I said I would. In a heartbeat. The words came out as only the truth can, because in my heart I know those short months I spent bonded to you were worth a thousand lifetimes of hurt. And I let myself remember when you told me that you’d rather risk a short life in love than an eternity alone.
If it is as the humans say, and there is a life beyond, I’m sorry that I’m not there with you. But I find there is a spark within me that must see this revolution through. I cannot say if we will succeed, or how long it will take, but know that even if it takes a lifetime, my love for you will not diminish. And when my time comes, never doubt that if there is a way for us to be together again, I will find it.
That is my promise.