1 One

I didn't choose the fight, the fight chose me.

Life was perfect; I was married, Emilie had just told me she was pregnant. I was beyond excited. I hadn't been this happy since our wedding day. I fingered the shiny silver ring on my finger, my arms wrapped around Emilie in a warm embrace. I had arrived back home from my craft an hour ago, and she informed me that dinner was almost ready, so I let her return to the kitchen. I needed to sit down anyway.

I was a fletcher's apprentice at the time. Bending the arms of each bow and placing the taut string for display in my master's shop required strong biceps and standing for hours on end, so a nice rest before one of Emile's meals sounded perfect.

We were both young, eighteen. Friends since childhood and married the day after she came of age, as I was two months older. We were happy, we had our lives ahead of us and the world at our feet. I was striving to become a fletcher, to be my own master. Emilie was content with staying home to care for the house and eventually our child.

And I wish I had never let go of her that day. I wish I had held her forever, never leaving her side, never departing from the life we had already established. Because doing so would bring upon our small family the most excruciating time of our lives, and beset upon us a force that would keep us apart for the next five years.