To Your Majesty the Queen,

We've always been even when it comes down to driving each other nuts in the habit department. I'm really not trying to make a habit out of giving you what you think is a sprightly facade, but as I've said once before, I have my coping mechanisms and you have yours. Right alongside the quirks you do like, some ways that I express myself are not always done on purpose or to exclude you. I hope I can apply the same explanation to you.

I asked you critical questions in September that I still haven't received any answers to. I find that hard to shelve. To put it politely, it seems like because I brought up an uncomfortable possibility about Aloysius Westergaard, you pulled back from laying out your own activities and feelings. Are your feelings towards Aloysius what I was right about, or are those feelings only a small part of it? Because right now, I'm starting to believe that you're communicating with him and the brothers after I specifically told you not to; if I'm wrong, then please don't keep giving me a reason to think I'm right.

I didn't mean to say that getting intimate with you wasn't part of the plan. It's just that I wasn't anticipating how intimate it would get, and I didn't really realize how intimate it was getting until it had already gotten there. "Family" is both a noun and a verb that I've always had to get used to labeling people under. With us, I was starting to fall back into the dynamics of what family felt like before I had actually given myself a moment to get acclimated to the speed — no thanks to your kindness and matriarchal charms, which I revere more than you revere my catchphrases. You've been doing everything you can to make sure I see you as my family and not an acquaintance who never had any particular inclination towards me outside of cordiality.

We've waltzed around one another without actually knowing each other until this tragedy forced us to become a family. Under these circumstances, I've grown to like and respect you, and not just as an acquaintance, ally, or some distant relative I write to, but as a person, and that's going to take more getting used to. But would you and I have the communication we have right now if none of this ever happened? Is this unconditional or conditional? The point is, please give me some time to come around without getting cold feet.

Keeping feelings pent up isn't the best thing to do, but there are going to be moments where I feel like I've already broken down to you more times than I'm okay with. Your advice is always wise, so I'm not on the fence about your wisdom. I value what you have to say, and I'm not on the fence about that, either. I don't need you to be anyone for me, though. Like I said before, you've been plenty.

It's not your fault that you can't be here; nor is it a bad thing. A hug would be great right about now, but sometimes I can feel you through your letters. When I do, you're the most soothing thing I've ever felt next to my father-in-law when it comes down to relatives; I honestly don't feel as alienated or unfit when you lecture me and open up about your own trials or errors. I know someone who's actually willing to listen to me has gone through something similar and had no choice but to come out stronger because of it. I feel like in time I can look to you for balance and peace of mind, which is a scary amount of trust to think about placing into anyone outside of my own wife.

But now that you've reestablished what it is you want from me, the only thing I want consistently from you is the same thing. Nevermind what Fredmund purposely left out; you're leaving out more than your fair share. Almost eight months have gone by and you wrote one paragraph about everything that's happened in between that time, most of which was exhaustingly ambiguous and bowdlerized. Aren't you cheating me out of a deal here? You're being hypocritical again without effort, so I'm not in the best mind to read about what you want me to express.

I could deal with last winter's episode better by breaking down on paper in a more consistent pattern to say what you'd prefer to hear how you'd prefer to hear it, but you constantly watering things down on your end of the spectrum doesn't motivate me to open up my floodgates by any stretch of the imagination. You know my reason for holding back, but I never quite know yours every time I spot you doing it. And because I don't know yours, my head is making up a lot of reasons for why you're holding back this time. Don't stiff me, Your Majesty. I don't take well to withholders.

I didn't have a rendezvous with my servant, so the story is false. As of today, I don't know which offer of yours I'm considering anymore, but I won't be abdicating this year. Needing to have children with my wife's cousin to guarantee my security is definitely not in the cards, though. I hope that you continue to recover from the vague aftereffects you suffered. I don't want anything bad happening to you the same way you don't want anything bad happening to me, especially not because of me.

The frequency of my letters is going to dwindle down because my council is redirecting my attention to another woman from another kingdom, so forgive me if I fizzle out. It looks like I have my own Aloysius to deal with.

From Corona,

XX of April, 1849

King Eugene