I loved Laguna. Most of the villagers wouldn't believe it, but I did love him, he was like a hard rain after summer showers, a breath of fresh air into a world of dust and decay.
It will also surprise you to know that I never blamed him for not being here, rather, I think, I would have been angry had he returned when there were still things he could do for those people. The man I married wouldn't do that. When Ellone returned, full of stories of kidnapping, and sorceresses, and cities made of crystal, I listened, and I loved her for it. By that time, my belly was already thick in midterm pregnancy, and her stories of places so far away and heroes so very brave enchanted me. In my heart, I stilled hoped Laguna would be home in time for our child's birth.
I knew he was a boy, from the moment I found out I was pregnant, I simply knew I was carrying a son, and I treasured every move that baby made within my womb. My little Squall, my treasure. He was destined, even then, to do great things.
As horrid as it makes the people of Winhil sound, the women advised me to abort the outsider's baby, but I never even considered taking the noxious brew that would purge my body of the embryo growing inside me. I know the midwives who attended me hoped he'd be born dead, as sometimes happens, or that there'd be some deformity to merit casting him out. But there wasn't, he was born perfect, so very perfect. He looked like my father, like the Lion that had died during the war.
Those first, precious months, with my little Squall to keep me company, and Ellone to keep me entertained with her stories of Sorceresses and Knights, and places of myth and magic. Such special times. I will treasure them always.
Letters would arrive from time to time, postmarked from Ester, but there was never a way to return a letter, not for me, or for anyone. No way to tell my husband of the precious son we had. Laguna's letters always promised 'soon', but as the months passed, he never came, and war revived on the country side. Food became scarce, and charity became even scarcer. The pub over flowed with business, so we ate well enough, the three of us, it was a scary thing, to know the war was going on in our backyard.
I lost count of how many times Ellone and I would huddle on my bed, listening to the battles happening nearby, with Squall pressed between us, my baby unknowing of the danger we faced, simply happy to have his two favorite people pressed close to him, how I lived for his smiles. And after the battle, men would be dragged into the inn and the women would gather to bandage and give whatever aid we could, no matter what side they came from.
Winter came, my son, now a year, saw his first snow. The small children danced in the snow, the older people stuffed cotton in cracks and blankets under doors. Squall thought it was a game for us all to sleep in a bed together, warm and safe between all the blankets in the house. My precious little son.
The letters stopped coming from Ester that winter...and now I do not think I will see the spring.
Ironically, it was my kindness that will end my life. I had been aiding a wounded soldier, not much older than my Laguna, when another shot me through the shoulder. Not a death wound, no, and at any other time, with proper medical supplies I doubt very much it would have troubled me greatly. But now, in the depths of winter, it will take my life.
Do not think I'm a coward, for dying, my sweet son, and do not hate your father for not being here. I wish, so badly, to live. For I know what will happen to you, my precious one, to you and Ellone. I have already prepared her; I have given her what will be my last gift to you, the pendent and ring passed through my family. They will give you my name, I know, but I will also give you your father's: Lorie. But bear the Leonhert name with pride, my little one. Bear boy your names with pride.
It's funny, with your tiny body curled next to me, death seems so very far away, yet so close to me now. I pray to Hyne for your happiness, Squall. And I pray, when you receive this, my last missive, that you will understand that I never meant to leave you.
I love you, Squall, in this life and the next, I love you.
Find Peace.
Raine Lorie.