Dear Baelia (Please Respond)

     I’m so, so sorry about what happened to you.

     (Cliched. But what else is there to say?)

     I can’t imagine what you must have been through. I don’t know all the details, but

     (It’s hard to find the right words. It’s hard to believe anyone would want to do something like… like that to Baelia. She never did anything to hurt anyone.

     Well, she did help make weapons, which are typically used to hurt people. But only because Queen Fyora asked her to. She didn’t seem to really like it. I should have…

     ...it wasn’t my place. Not when the Queen made it clear she had greater plans for her.)

     Queen Fyora told me about your current condition.

     (Those don’t feel like the right words, either. But what am I supposed to say? “Fyora told me you’d lost your wings and magic.” “Fyora told me you’d lost your connection to light itself.” “Fyora told me you’d become a grey faerie, which means you probably feel even more like an outsider than you always have.”

     It’s the best I can think of. I’ll just go with it. I want to get this out as soon as I can.

     I need to make sure she knows I’m there for her, if she needs me.)

     The Queen let me know where you’re staying, too, which is obviously how I’m able to send you this letter. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. You know you’re always welcome to come visit anytime, or I can come visit you whenever you’re up for company. Just let me know!

     Sincerely, Delina

     Dear Baelia,

     I just wanted to let you know I’ve been thinking of you.

     (She never responded to my last letter.

     Maybe it got lost in the mail. Or maybe she just hasn’t felt like writing. I can’t really blame her.)

     Things have been the same as ever in my workshop. Always busy with some new project. Sometimes I miss having another set of hands to help out.

     (She was such a quick study, always eager to learn something new, so driven to do her best with every project I had her work on…

     She’d seem so surprised, sometimes, when I told her she’d done a good job. She always tried to brush it off when I praised her, like she couldn’t quite believe that she was actually good at anything.

     I remember how insecure I felt when I was younger—like I was less of a faerie because my magic wasn’t as strong as most other faeries’. It helped a lot when I found something I was good at, and it turns out you can do a lot of things with just a little magic as long as you know the right techniques.

     But there’s a big difference between “weak magic” and “no magic.”)

     You’re always welcome to stop by the workshop—I promise I won’t put you to work. Well, not unless you’re really dying to help me sort my fabrics. (Get it? ‘Dying’?)

     (Is that too corny?

     It’s not like she wouldn’t expect it from me. She knows my sense of humour.

     When I first took her as my apprentice, she used to give me this weird, polite little chuckle when I made stupid puns. It took time to crack her shell.

     I knew we’d made progress when she started rolling her eyes at me.

     As her apprenticeship went on, she started to relax—she even seemed to glow more, like she was finally starting to feel comfortable with herself.

     ...and then the Queen gave her that new assignment. When I visited her at her workshop in the palace, she seemed… kind of withdrawn. Tense.

     I should have said something. Done something. I knew she was unhappy. I should have found a way to help. And I should have realised, somehow, what a dangerous position the Queen was putting her in.

     Would coming back here bring Baelia comfort, or would it just make her feel worse by reminding her of everything that’s changed?)

     Or you can swing by my apartment, too. You know where I live, after all.

     Anyways, what have you been up to lately?

     (I heard the Queen asked her to start offering quests, but I haven’t seen her around at all.

     Maybe I’m just not looking hard enough.)

     I hope you’ve been taking care of yourself.

     Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you! Or even if you’d just like some company. I’m always happy to make time for you.

     Sincerely, Delina

     Dear Baelia,

     How are you doing?

     I saw you in the marketplace the other day—I tried to get your attention, but you didn’t hear me, and you’d disappeared by the time I was able to push through the crowd.

     (Except I think maybe she did hear. She looked a bit startled after I called her name.

     What if she’s avoiding me on purpose? What if the reason she hasn’t responded at all is that she just doesn’t want any contact with me?

     Does she blame me, just a little bit, for what happened? For not helping her more? For not finding some way to protect her?

     I keep thinking about it—that there must have been something I could have done, some way I could have kept her from getting hurt.)

     I’d really like to find some time to catch up with you. Remember how we used to get ice cream on Friday evenings after we finished up in the workshop? I’d be happy to buy you a sundae, for old times’ sake.

     (I assume she still likes ice cream. Most people do, after all.

     But maybe she doesn’t feel like going out much, these days.)

     Or I could grab takeout and we could eat at your place or mine. Just let me know what time and place works best for you, and I’ll make it work for me, too.

     I really do miss you. I’d love to hear from you whenever you feel up to it. I’m even sending an extra envelope, paper, and stamps along with this letter to make it easier if you feel like writing back.

     (That’s not too much, is it? I don’t want to give her a guilt trip or anything. If she doesn’t want to write, that’s fine, but...

     I’m worried. Really worried.)

     Sincerely, Delina

     Dear Baelia,

     I haven’t heard back from you. And that’s okay! I know you have a lot going on, and I totally understand if you need some space.

     (I’d understand, too, if she just… doesn’t want to hear from me.

     I’d thought we were close, once. I wanted, more than anything, to see my apprentice shine.

     I still want to see her shine.

     But maybe I’m not what she needs right now. Especially if it feels like my fault, just a little bit, because I didn’t even try to step in with the Queen when I saw how unhappy she was in her new position.

     Maybe all these letters have done is cause Baelia pain, and that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.)

     I don’t want to be pushy or anything, so this will be the last letter I send for now. But I hope you know that you can talk to me any time. Even if it’s like three in the morning, you can come over and ring my doorbell, and I’ll let you in. I really do mean it.

     Or maybe we’ll run into each other sometime when we’re out and about. If you see me, I’d be happy if you come over and say “hi.” Even if that’s all you want to say. You can just say “hi” and run off, and I’ll be happy just to know you’re around. Though of course I’d also appreciate a full sentence, or two, or more if you’re up to it.

     What I’m trying to say is that I miss you, and I care about you, and I want you to be okay. You may not be my student any longer, but you’ll always be important to me.

     And if what you need right now is for me to back off, I understand. Just know that if you’re ever ready to talk, or meet up, or anything, I’ll be there for you. I promise.

     Even if we never talk again,

     (Please, please don’t let that happen.)

     I’ll always think of you as both my former student and my friend.

     Yours truly,

     Delina

     Baelia held the letter in her lap, staring blankly out the window.

     So. Finally, Delina was finished with… all this.

     Delina had always been so kind to Baelia. That was just who she was.

     But Baelia knew better than to believe any of what Delina was saying.

     There was no way she actually wanted to be anywhere near Baelia right now.

     A faerie without wings is completely helpless.

     Lost all her powers, lost all her beauty… lost all hope.

     For a little while, back before… back before, Baelia had let herself start to think that maybe she wasn’t completely useless. Maybe she was actually good for something.

     Queen Fyora had even come to Baelia one day, saying she saw potential in Baelia: something that Faerieland needed, but hadn’t had in a long time.

     A younger Baelia—before she’d apprenticed with Delina and started to believe she might have a talent worth sharing—would never have believed it.

     And that younger Baelia was wiser, as it turned out, because if Baelia hadn’t gone along with Queen Fyora’s plans, maybe Jennumara wouldn’t have—

     Maybe Jennumara wouldn’t have.

     Delina had been Baelia’s teacher, once.

     In a way, Jennumara had been her teacher, too.

     Jennumara had really only taught Baelia one lesson, but she’d taken considerable time and effort to make sure it really sunk in.

     And it had. Jennumara’s lesson had wrapped itself around Baelia’s heart, binding itself to her far more tightly than her long-lost magic:

     Baelia was just as worthless as she’d once thought she was.

     Even more worthless, really. It had been arrogant to think she could be of any real use to anyone, much less the Faerie Queen. Baelia had been nothing more than a pretender to a role she had no right to, and that had been her downfall. Now, without the wings and magic she’d never truly deserved, she looked exactly like what she was—helpless, useless, good for nothing. No one could ever look at Baelia with anything but pity or disgust.

     Delina pitied her. Of course she did. Who wouldn’t pity a poor, pathetic grey faerie?

     And of course had Delina felt obligated to reach out to her former student, just like she must have felt obligated years ago—it felt like a lifetime away—to reach out to a sad, lonely light faerie who felt like something deep inside her was broken, and always would be.

     It had been Delina who taught Baelia to hope.

     But that hope had been a lie in the end—almost as cruel, in its own way, as Jennumara’s curse.

     Baelia held Delina’s letter lightly in her fingertips, not looking back down at it.

     Delina must have felt so relieved after sending that last letter. No one could say she hadn’t tried. She’d done her duty, and now she could stop, move on, and find another student who was actually worth Delina’s time and effort; one who wouldn’t end up like Baelia: hopeless, helpless, useless, always useless.

     This letter would go the same place all the others had: in the back of one of Baelia’s drawers, shoved out of sight and out of mind, to be forgotten the way Delina would hopefully be able to forget Baelia.

     That would probably be best for everyone.

     Seeing Baelia now, after everything that had happened, would probably just make Delina upset that all her efforts had gone to waste.

     And seeing Delina would…

     ...would…

     ...Baelia had heard Delina call her name in the marketplace one day, just like Delina mentioned in a previous letter.

     And when she’d heard Delina’s voice, Baelia’s heart had clenched, and a panicked thought had flashed through her mind:

     I can’t let her see me. I can’t let her see what I’ve become.

     If Delina couldn’t forget her entirely, the next best thing would surely be to remember Baelia as she had been—a faerie, even if not a very good one, who someone like Delina could imagine had some sort of potential—and not what she’d become.

     Even if the thought of never seeing Delina again made Baelia’s chest ache, Baelia knew it was the kindest thing to do. Surely she owed her former teacher that much for all the time and care Delina had given Baelia—the patient explanations, the generous praise, the really dorky jokes, the sense that the future might hold something bright and beautiful…

     ...it was over, now. Better to leave it in the past.

     Besides, Baelia had Tavi, didn’t she? Tavi was more than Baelia deserved—more than she ever could—and for whatever reason, the Kyrii simply refused to stay away.

     And Tavi had never seen Baelia before she’d lost her wings. When Tavi looked at Baelia, all the Kyrii saw was a grey faerie—not the light faerie Baelia had once been. That made things… easier, somehow.

     Baelia looked down at the letter one last time, her gaze flickering over the words before settling, for a few moments, on a line near the bottom:

     Even if we never talk again, I’ll always think of you as both my former student and my friend.

     Baelia swallowed.

     Even if we never talk again… you were my former teacher, and…

     ...and…

     Baelia’s eyes stung. She swallowed again, blinking, looking back out the window, where sunlight shone down on the soft pink clouds of Faerieland.

     My former teacher, and… more than you’ll ever know.

     I miss you, too.

     Carefully, Baelia folded the letter up, got to her feet, and went to put it safely away.

     The End.