Hey! This has been buzzing around for a while and I thought I'd give it a try. I can't help but try and think of new ideas and write them down for this wonderful fandom. :)

Faint.

Dear diary…

I can't remember the last time I wrote to you. It must have been a very long time ago now judging by my last entry; over a year ago in fact. I suppose that ever since Jack sent the giants back I have never felt as compelled as I used to be to write to you.

Jack… Six months it has been since he had no choice but to return to his farm life – his uncle's illness bound him to a sense of family duty to care for him. I pray to God that he remains well – and I feel lost and alone. It's as if a piece of my heart that had been captivated when we first met has been torn out of me, leaving behind a gaping wound that won't heal. At least a part of me is with him still. I remember him telling me that just before he had brushed his lips against mine for the final time.

I shouldn't be writing about this. Father tells me that I must move on and live my life. I just… I just have to write about this. If he wants me to move on then this is the only way. I didn't want to move on, but now I realise that I must. It's the only way I'll survive.

I would go on to write about something else; something more cheery, except that all is not well.

It… it concerns Elmont; My one true friend.

He's… not. He's not well. The healer says that he's under the influence of the four humours, yet I know it's otherwise.

A man simply just doesn't collapse in the middle of the courtyard the way he did. At first it was assumed that he was suffering from exhaustion. Ever since Jack left he had kept himself secluded, alienating his self from me and others whilst he trained the men. He and Jack were like brothers, and I'm sure that what Elmont is going through is very similar to my own pain.

I know Elmont though. Even exhausted he would continue to stand strong in the face of others. His determination is one of his most valued aspects of his personality. He honestly wouldn't give up until there was nothing else left.

We don't know exactly what it is yet, but I feel so fragile without him near. The very fact that he looks so fragile himself pains me, spearing my still aching heart. I've never seen him in such a way. I could never possible fathom my Elmont looking so vulnerable.

He's pale and sweating, yet his cheeks are flushed scarlet, and occasionally he lets out a low groan of discomfort, his long auburn eyelashes flickering wildly against his cheeks as he struggles to regain consciousness. I can't imagine the pain he is going through. I want nothing more than to take it away.

But I am powerless to do so. It's ironic. The Princess of Cloister, who should have power to provide the best for her people, when she wants to use that power the most is absolutely helpless in the face of his sickness.

I'm sorry but I need to stop writing. I shouldn't be writing to you. I should be there by Elmont's side, no matter what he or anyone else tells me.

He has always been there for me.

…Now I'm going to do the same for him.

With a shaky breath that held the burning tears behind her eyes away Isabelle slammed the thick, brown leather book closed decisively and sharply rose from her seat, the wooden legs of the chair screaming horrendously against the limestone floor beneath her.

She briefly cast her cerulean eyes up and out of the one small slit in front of her desk towards the emerald countryside. A deep longing burned inside the pit of her stomach for Jack as she abruptly turned away and marched out of her chambers, the door rebounding violently off of the wall she had carelessly flicked it towards and banged shut.

I imagine a slow and boring chapter 1 for this short fic, but if you're interested it WILL build up. I just love to pack some emotion in.