Disclaimer: I own everything as much as Rosto the Piper is Carthaki: not at all. It's all Tamora Pierce's, I just play in her world.
A/N: Okay, so this has been sitting in one of my notebooks for around five or six months and half-done on my laptop for about three of those. So, I finally got around to finishing it up, and, though it's full to the brim of angst and a maybe a tad overly tragic, I think it turned out pretty well. So, don't forget to review and let me know what you think.
From the Journal of Rebakah Cooper
September 8, 258
It's been over ten years since I was voted a full Dog by the others at my kennel. I've been looking through my old journals this morning. There's so much that I've forgotten, or pushed to the back of my mind. Some of those things are hard to think about.
Kora is still in the Lower City, but Aniki left years ago, when Phelan was killed in a rusher massacre. The third member of that group that came so long ago is nearly eight years in the grave. He – Rosto – deserved more than three feet of dirt and a granite gravestone. He didn't deserve to have his throat slit when he lost a duel for his throne. What he deserved was for me to tell him how I felt, how I still feel, about him.
I didn't realize that I loved him until the day he died. He'd told me only a few days before his death that he was in love with me. He didn't need to die. His successor was brought down by Aniki two days later. That was when she left Corus. The only reason that she stayed that last month after Phelan was killed was because of her friendship with Rosto.
Things have changed in the city itself. Gershom of Haryse is no longer the Lord Provost; he retired three years ago after an incident that left him with a crippled hand. The city is a little better, but it's hard to see it that way. Diona won't talk to me, Lorine and my brothers aren't allowed to. Lord Gershom has retired to his estates. Aniki's gone. Rosto's dead…
I wish that those times weren't gone. I miss them. I miss my old friends. I wish those times weren't just times gone by. I wish I could relive those times and change them, so that things were different. But I can't. I can't go back, and I can't change the last. I only wish I could. Wishes like that aren't worth anything.
I miss you, Rosto. I shouldn't have taken you or your friendship for granted, or even the flirting and the kisses. Maybe if I hadn't, things would have been different. Maybe then, those times gone by wouldn't be painful times, but happy times.
Oh, Rosto, I wish you were here.
A/N: I know, I know, I'm in trouble again. Once again, I killed Rosto off for the sake of the plot. What can I say – it hurts to be my favorite character. On the plus side, I've got a scene in my head for a companion piece. Alright, now that you've read this much of my rambling, why don't you click the pretty blue (or purple) button and make me happy? Please?