As I write this you are asleep. If the light wakes you, I'll have some explaining to do, but at this moment you are sleeping peacefully. Tomorrow is the day, it seems - the culmination of five long years, our moment of revenge. So why can I not quiet this part of me which fears that, at the tipping point, you will flinch?
Is it that I fear you loved my father less than I? Or do I doubt your resolve to strike the killing blow? I do not think so. Rather I fear that you have lost so much already that you cannot bear to lose more. I think that you would let Germain rule France if you thought it would "save" me.
Have you ever known me to need saving? Have you ever had cause to think that I would accept it if it were offered? My fate is my own. My choice is my own.
If somehow we both return from this, I will burn this letter. If you are reading it now, then I made my choice there in the Temple. Know that I made it gladly, and do not take the burden of it onto yourself. Be at peace, my love, and walk what path you will.
All my love,