To my friend,
the Marquis de Lafayette,

Thank you for being there. For being a friend, a confidant, someone I could trust and talk to if I needed.

But we have grown apart recently. I'm not quiet sure what the driving factor of that is, but it hurts all the same. It hurts that someone whom I really did care about and whom I would usually tell everything to was not somebody I trusted in my final moments.

This morning (at the time of writing this letter) was when you saw me let the Tenebrie live. In the moment, I couldn't possibly hope to explain it to you why I did it. What would I have said? That when I looked at it, I saw myself in its place?

But now you know why.

I really do not want you to feel guilty for the things you called it—the things you called me. I understand where you were coming from and I would never in a thousand years blame you for thinking like that. You were justified and you were right.

I'm sorry.

Sometimes, I truly did envy you. You're strong and intelligent, but at the exact same time, you're compassionate and kind. Something I could never have hoped to be. You were always the amazing one, and I could not think of anyone more deserving to be respected as much as you are.

I know that this is somewhat unrelated, but I know how happy you were with Hercules. And in truth, it made the rest of us happy and hopeful to see the love that prospered between the two of you even in a time of danger and the looming threat of death with every passing day.

I know you don't like thinking about him, and I know you don't want to go back to him, but I think he misses you.

And I can see that you miss him.

Oh, and if I'm as perceptive as I think I am and you are really chasing after Angelica, I would encourage you not to, but I want you to be happy more than anything else in the world.

Just be careful, please.

Anyway, thank you for being my friend. I looked to your light even in the darkest of times.

Your friend,
Thomas