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God of Winter
God of Winter
God of Winter
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God of Winter

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An old king writes letters to the lover he is forbidden to be with. Through his tales of love, murder, revenge, and war, the letters shed light on one man's struggle between serving his country and being with the man he loves.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherBookBaby
Release dateNov 18, 2015
ISBN9781682226476
God of Winter

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    God of Winter - Matt Menter

    Winter

    DAY 1

    Today, I begin my journals to you. My name is King Taran. Let this be a record of all that I was. The best parts of me. One day, perhaps, my entries will mean something to a new kind of world. A better one. Perhaps, one day they will hold some relevance of which I cannot foresee at the present moment. A stranger might come upon them and remark on the love that was found in each word. He will look back and shake his head, angry at those long ago times when a love like ours was thought of as vile and wrong.

    What I know is that I can no longer keep the thoughts inside my head. I must find an outlet for the demons that swirl inside my mind.

    I am a king. Of a great nation. That much you know. I lead thousands of men into battle. But I am a lonely king. So, give me this moment. Allow me this chance to write to you, the man I love. For the love I have for you will continue in the face of all the miles that separate us.

    It was seven months ago that you were forced to leave this castle and never return. Our love proved too dangerous to exist out in the open any longer. Someone would find out, someone would talk. Word would get out, and I would be incarcerated for treason. In this kingdom, two men aren’t allowed to fall in love.

    It was at that moment I decided there was only one solution. You would be sent away, off to a place where you can be safe and protected. A place where we could continue our correspondence. There, you would have all the things you need to make a good life. A home of your own, lands for farming, money sent to you weekly. Where no harm would ever come to you. Safe, secure, untarnished. I would stay in this kingdom and rule. That was what was decided. It seemed the most sensible option. And yet, my heart remains split in two.

    Seven months later, and the doubt remains in my mind. Perhaps, this wasn’t the solution I thought it to be. I will admit my doubt to you. It must not come as a shock, either. You saw the doubt in my eyes the day we said our goodbyes. Nothing is ever certain in this life. You could tell how the decision tortured me so.

    But all that is ash and forgotten memories now. All that is just dust. You are safe now. You are where you need to be. Though, I know this is not where you want to be. You would rather have me by your side. You would rather have me give up my kingdom. But I couldn’t do it. I am here now, lost and falling to pieces. Whatever choices were made are sealed and permanent now. There is no going back.

    A king must remain. He must keep to his throne. There was a time once when the duties of my kingdom were of the utmost importance to me. But now, they all seem worthless. The one thing I want most in this life is the one thing I cannot have. Everything that I am is tied up in you. Without you, I don’t know how I continue on.

    I must not let emotions get the better of me. I will write these letters to you. That is how I will survive this lonely life. That is what I will do. That is how I will cope. I will write every single day. And I will send the letters to you through a secret messenger. Hopefully, they will provide you with some comfort. You will know that the home you once loved is safe and protected. And I will get a chance to speak to you. If all we have are words, then let words be our compass. If all that defines us is the ink of my quill, then let that ink run wild with the love we share.

    There might come a time when letters are the only correspondence we get to share. And what then? What if my legacy is just a stack of letters to the one I love? Good. I think I would prefer it this way. I ask for a life of love over a life of war. Our letters will keep us sane. Our letters will ensure the embers of our love remain strong. If my last day comes, and I spend it holding a letter from you, then my life will have been worth living. All the riches, all the battles won, all the accolades and triumphs — it will mean nothing compared to the writing of a single letter.

    I must head to bed now. I hate when the final sentence of every letter is written. But tomorrow, I will write again. And this old feeling will return. The memories will come back. And for a little while, we will be lovers again.

    DAY 10

    I am angry today. I sit at my court. I sit all alone. I see the faces of the men who I once called my brothers. They are different now. I don’t recognize them anymore. I do not know them. They are just faceless politicians. Where did the law once go? Where is order? Where is progress? Where are the days when people made things of value and worth? When did we lose all reason?

    It seems all men do nowadays is rattle on about what is the right course of action to take. But not just of large matters, but every tiny, little thing. They bicker, they prod, they spit and ache. They refuse to make decisions. They make no sense. They plan, and yet, they do nothing. Years ago, I had knights at my side. Men of valor, who strove to build a better kingdom. Now, I have men of the law. I have the educated elite of this city. Well, I am fed up with them. I don’t need them. I want my knights back. They brought good to this city. What I have before me now is no help to this city.

    They talk of so many things, but no improvements are made, no action is taken. Laws appear on the table, and they refuse to vote on them. They leave, each day, promptly at sunset when no work has been completed. They venture off to their dinners where they grow fat and spoiled. They take the meal from the farmer, but they give the farmer nothing. They drink the milk of the dairy man, and yet, he returns home to his one-bedroom shack. These are not men who bring good into the world. They are not inventors, or warriors, or builders. They are garbage men. Leeches. Sucking off the fat of those who make real progress.

    I am so fatigued by their petty whining. Their constant drivel! I am so weary of sitting there, day after agonizing day, listening to these children argue over the minutiae of government. Why? What for? The people do not want such men deciding their fate. These men — these crooks — they should have never been given the right to make decisions. They vote on taxes that will only harm the people who need the most help. They look after their own interests, rather than the interest of the greater good. They set laws that deter progress. I can’t begin to express how they treat the women in this city. It’s as if they think they know what is best for a woman. They know little of what a woman actually needs. It’s almost comical how unsatisfied their wives are.

    I adopted the tribunal as a way to make certain that I was doing my job properly. The knights were perfectly fine, but my advisors assured me that I would be stronger if I elected men who understood politics and law. Power, I was told, should not rest upon one man. They were wrong. I see that clearly now. Why, then, should I trust anyone? They don’t know what is right. Only I know what is right. I am so tired of hoping someone pans out, and lo and behold, they prove to be little more than wasted space.

    I am surrounded by nothings. That’s all they are. These are not men, they are numbers. They prance and blow out their chests, as if their words mean something. They have never stepped in mud, never touched the battlefield. Never known a life of sweat and toil. They don’t know what it is to fight in a war. They tell me to send my men to battle when they have never raised a weapon of their own. I am old, yes, but I know what makes a leader. I have led for all these years and I will continue to lead.

    They look at me, thinking one day I will choose them, that one day they will take my place at the helm. Ha! When my ending comes, the city will go to the people. That is the little secret that I keep from them. The city will be given back to the people, where it belongs. If the men want to argue, I have a ready sword.

    I’m drunk. I’m mad. Tomorrow, we have another tribunal. The men will be surprised to discover that they no longer have a place within my hallowed walls. It’s time to clean house.

    DAY 100

    It’s only been a few days, but every passing hour weighs on me. My mind isn’t focused, my heart wants to open wide, but there is nothing here at this time. I cannot think of anything but your love.

    How perfect we once were. How there was such good in my life while you were in it. The memories whither away. Just passing glances and somber looks. I check the post — nothing from you again. It has been four months almost. I hear your voice when I shut my eyes. I recall the promises we once made to one another. The promise that we would be together, with a house filled with children in some far away land. The future seemed as though it was already foretold. I imagined a life with you in it, even if the world we inhabited wouldn’t make it so. I saw a love there. A love of boundless possibilities. A love that would never die.

    I must be losing my mind. I refuse to think about the bad. The moments you weren’t there for me, the letters that remained unopened, the constant questions that still fill my mind. I wanted your love. I was the one who always tried the hardest. I was the one whose heart broke. As I sit here in my castle with nothing to show for all the pain.

    I ask you this — does your heart break for me? Did you ever love me the way I loved you? Are you wrestling with the same sadness that plagues me? Are you lamenting over what could have been? Do you think of me as the night comes in? Do you reach for me? Do you ask the Gods why I am not beside you? Sometimes, I wonder.

    Forget it. Forget I said anything about it. I do not want the answer because I fear already know. Curse my heart for the blood that pumps for you. Damn the heavens that brought you into my life. I don’t want to keep feeling this way. I don’t want the feelings. Throw them out. Fry them in the cauldron where the witches cast their spells. Take a torch to my soul. I don’t want this heart. It bleeds and fills me with agony.

    I am a king. I am not meant to break and grovel. I am meant to lead, to be impervious. I cannot handle this life. To have someone rip me open so. I hate it.

    DAY 370

    My love, one year has gone by since I saw you. As the days mark the bitter anniversary, I find myself on holiday. I should be in better spirits, but I am not myself. The children of the village wanted my company the other day, but I couldn’t join them. Even their happy faces couldn’t brighten my sorrows. You were in my thoughts. Even the thought of cracking a smile was too much for me.

    I believe myself to be such a fool. Why do you still weigh on my mind? Why do you vex me in this way? I want to move on. One year of this pain. I want to go forward with my days and not be troubled by thoughts of you. But it is too difficult. If I could speak of our love, if I could tell just one single person, then I believe it would be easier. I could confide in those closest to me. I could tell them how my heart aches for you. I could speak of the plans I had for us.

    But I can’t. I can’t talk of such things. For if I did, I would be run out of the kingdom. I would be slandered. My name would be thrown to the wolves and I would be hung from the gallows. No one would listen to me. They would all hate me, and the villagers would call for my head. And the kingdom would fall into ruin. No kingdom has ever had a leader with thoughts such as mine. No kingdom has had a king who longs for the touch of another man. A kingdom would not know what to do with me. A king is supposed to have a wife, he is supposed to have children. He is obligated to give the world a child to carry his name. A king cannot have a man next to him on the throne. That is what they say. That is why they hate me.

    But I refuse to abide by their thinking.

    My love, I need you. I wish the world could end now so that I could end it with you beside me. To see you in your sleep, see you giving into me. Kissing you in the corner, as the light of the moon shows us the way home.

    You changed me that day. That day you gave me a life to live for. Strong like my mother, mysterious like the forest I used to get lost in.

    I want to explore you, enrapture you, take you captive for all time. There is no other world but you. There is only one future and it is you. I crave you, I cherish you, I need you desperately. Rip off my angel wings and consume me, I am a prisoner of this love.

    I think about you tonight. I want nothing more than to lie in bed with you. Our bodies bathed in the warmth of the candles. Knowing every movement, remembering every spark. I will not break. I will not miss a moment. I will never close my eyes again. Your love is what brings me home.

    That is what I want. And I will find a way to get it.

    Damn the angels and the monsters! I am forever alone in my plight. I want to name it. And then, I want to be rid of it. I walk the halls of the castle late at night. I try to steer my thoughts onto other matters— the court, the wars that lie ahead. Nothing will take. You remain on my mind. It’s as though a black fog has crept into my brain. Where reason and the daily tasks once lived, there is only you. I do not like this.

    You were a great love. A man I wished could bring me forever. But there is no going back. There is no talk, no recourse, no beginning and no end. You have done this to me. You have left me here, sad and alone. I will move on. The world may never know of our love. So be it. I don’t think I could handle the memory.

    DAY 402

    I sit here in my castle. It’s lonely here. The quiet resonates throughout the walls. In the moments of solitude, worries come into my mind. They have no end.

    I remember how it was — our first meeting. All the voices in my head told me to end it. These feelings aren’t real. They are just figments. They are merely misguided lusts. Leave. Get away. Another time. Any other time but now. But the feelings welled up. They became too strong. They took over.

    There are choices you make in this life. And there are the worries that you have. There are the things that mean the most to you. As you grow older, you begin to chip away at what matters and what does not. Reason and right take center stage. Through it all, the answer is never clear.

    I wish so much for you to be mine again. All is not well in my mind.

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