Hey guys!

Reposting this cause the site was acting up yesterday!

So, I finished watching Anne With An E a few weeks ago. Since then, I've been dealing with the heartbreak of not having a season 4 through fanfiction. Now, I've reached stage 2 of my grieving process, in which I'm writing a fic. Yay.

So, basically, this is going to be season 4. I feel like there were so many storylines that were closed quite poorly (and some of them weren't closed at all), and I need some answers so I'm going to get them myself lol. I think this is going to be 10 chapters long (not counting this one), so I will plan the story ahead before moving on to chapter 1. A crucial reason for that is that there are so many serious topics in Anne With An E that deserve to be told in a respectful manner, so I have a lot of research pending.

The prologue deals with Anne's letter at the end of season 3. Now, writing from Anne's perspective meant not writing in third person pov for the first time in a few years, while also trying to do justice to Anne's character with all its quirks and interesting traits. I hope I did her justice and if not, I promise I'll get better in later chapters.

Disclaimer: The characters and storyline are taken from the tv series "Anne With An E" and the saga in which the tv series is based, so they do not belong to me.

Hope you guys like it! Feel free to fav, follow and review :)

Prologue. "Of Constants And Love Letters."

Dear Gilbert,

I look like my mother.

Isn't it wonderful, how words can have such a dazzling meaning? And even how that same meaning can change depending on the person uttering them? I cannot imagine that too many would really care about resembling their parents but it couldn't be more different in my case.

During my entire life, I have been part of a quest, a quest that has had as many faces as my own existence. A quest to find any piece of my parents' identity, anything that - once and for all -, would make me feel the love of the two people I have missed the most.

Look at me, rambling on without bothering to explain first. In a way, it is reassuring that some things do not change, wouldn't you agree Gil? As much as I have always deemed myself to be a bride of adventure, I have to argue that it is the constants in life that allow us to face changes with a brave face. I have been thinking quite a lot about the aspects of my life I can depend on.

Right now, I am in my room at the boarding house, trying to be as quiet as possible as to avoid bothering my dearest Diana, who I understand is partially responsible for the beautiful scene that took place earlier in the gardens. I owe you endless gratitude for risking your prompt departure to Toronto by coming to find me but without her, we would have gone our separate ways without knowing our hearts belonged to each other. I do not think I will ever be able to pay her for the kindness she showed us.

Still, I'm rapidly discovering that it is quite an impossible task for me to write to you without aching to raise to my feet and dance in celebration. It could have all gone so different. I could have left my boarding house earlier in my attempt to find you before you left Avonlea. You could have left Avonlea later, therefore missing both me and Diana. I cannot explain how elated I am that things went right for once.

When I left Avonlea, I was truly afraid I was going to be torn apart by my rampant emotions before I managed to reach Charlottetown.

By now, you must know my mind is never quiet. I suppose that fact is a given, considering my vivid imagination and my proficient way with words but, as surprising as it may be, my mind has also been known to work against me. When I reached Charlottetown, I was so burdened with concerns and fears that I truly worried I was bound to be distracted throughout my time attending Queens.

If I don't share all of them with you right away, Gil, I want you to be confident that I will tell you all about them in due time. As for this present letter, I feel like only two of those concerns are relevant enough to be discoursed.

I wrote about constants before. You see, I have always found the idea of meeting people who would later become unreservedly dependable to be of the most marvelous kind. As such, it feels so right that Marilla and Matthew - my dearest, most beloved protectors - were the ones who gave me a most treasured object related to my parents.

When one grows up without the simplest recollection of one's parents, it feels as if there is a missing piece in the puzzle that is one's character. Being in the dark as to who my parents were has haunted me in many ways throughout my life...its weight, its burden altering itself as I did. I have always thought that if I could summarize that feeling in not too many words - a quite taxing task if I do say so myself -, I would describe it as living your entire life without knowing what it's like to belong to the two people who are supposed to love you unconditionally and without any reservations.

During the past few months, my quest has led me to find out anything I could about my beloved parents. One day, dear Gilbert, when we are finally reunited, I will tell you all about it. For now, all I have to say it's that - just like with every other aspect of my life, apparently -, it was emotional, heartbreaking, thrilling and daunting.

Earlier today, you came to my boarding house in the most romantic of scenes, keeping my heart singing ever since. However, it wasn't until Marilla and Matthew visited that my happiness was at last complete. I had thought my research had come to its natural end as none of the clues I had about my parents managed to give me satisfactory answers but, oh Gilbert, you should have seen me as they handed me a book that once belonged to my mother.

Titled as "The Language Of Flowers", it was filled with my mother's handwriting as she recounted the details of my growth and of our wonderful life together. By the end of the book, there is the most dazzling portrait of my mother, drawn by my father. It was as if every happenstance in my life had led to that moment in which an old, dusty book was given to me as the container of my parent's love for me. To know that my parents loved one another and that the last thing they wanted was to be apart from me, strangely, fills me with utter reassurance.

Isn't it wonderful how such presumably minor details can tell so much about the love a person has for another? Bertha and Walter, Marilla and Matthew. My parents and my protectors. Today I was showered with love by the four people who have raised me, so much that I am actually in awe of how a homely girl such as myself has managed to get so fortunate.

Since I'm mentioning fortune, can we please discuss just how poor have our circumstances been? I have been pondering about our story, so filled with quarrells, misunderstandings and challenges. Part of me can't help but wonder how easier it could have been between us if only one of the factors working against us had been different?

What would have happened if you managed to receive the letter I left at your house the day after the exams? What would have happened if I didn't tear the letter you wrote to me in a burst of blinding rage? ( I am truly sorry about that, do you think you could tell me what the note said?).

What if Winnifred had not been in the picture? What if I had been less prone to lashing out at you? What if you had been more clear with your feelings? What if?

For better or for worse, Gilbert, you have also been a constant in my life. Even when I smacked you with that slate, even when you left to work on that ship, even when I put my foot in my mouth time after time, you were there. We have always quarrelled, but we have also been a team. In the end, Gilbert, your friendship is one I treasure dearly and I'm confident in the fact that no one knows me like you do. Please, do not tell Diana about this.

I have always struggled with the image I have of myself. The idea of not seeing oneself under a positive light is a grieving, desperate one but before I came to Avonlea, I never really had a reason to see any good in myself, nor was I given one.

That is an issue I know I will spend a long time dealing with and I have made my peace with it so I urge you not to dwell on it. I mentioned it because I left Avonlea thinking I had lost you for good but then, just before you graced the gardens of my boarding house with your beautiful, striking presence, I ran into Winnifred.

Hearing that you had broken the courtship with her because of unrequited love was utterly life-altering.

How ludicrous is it, dear Gilbert, that I only heard of your feelings from the lips of your former sweetheart while you heard of mine from the lips of my bosom friend? Gilbert, I cannot begin to explain the amount of things I realized as I heard the truth of your relationship with Winnifred. Still, I will only mention two of them.

Would you believe me if I told you I was afraid? I feared not being enough for you. I feared that with me, you would be stuck with me because, what can I really offer against riches, the Sorbonne and a luxurious life in Europe?

That night, when we were drinking and celebrating that the exams were behind us, you pulled me aside and though I could hear the love in your voice - even through my drunken haze -, all I could think was of my fear. I couldn't stop you from achieving the golden, brilliant life you deserve. More than that, I wouldn't, which is why I reacted so chaotically. However, may I request that if you need to discuss anything with me, that you refrain from doing so while I am...in the sorry state I was that night?

The other thing I realized was that my life has led me to have little to no expectations in the people around me. The silver lining about that, however, is that the certainties in life always manage to triumph over the insecurities roaming through my mind.

As soon as I heard the truth, nothing else mattered. Not even my red hair remained an issue. All that mattered were our feelings.

For our sake, I solemnly swear I shall be honest with you from now on, regardless of the circumstances. With all the misunderstandings in our past, I reckon we should try being open with one another. Don't you think we deserve that, Gil?

I love you, Gilbert Blythe. I am ridiculously in love with you and I think I have been for quite some time now. It is so tragically romantic for me to be unable to admit my feelings in person but, through letter or through voice, my feelings for you remain the same.

You and I, Gil, are kindred spirits and as I look back to our childhood, I find myself exasperated over the obscene amount of time I lost with my mindless, overbearing attitude. Still, it would not be us if our relationship wasn't a whirlwind. All that matters is that we are here now, that my heart belongs to you and that I no longer care for pretending like you and I do not belong together.

I would write to you for hours but unfortunately, it is rather late and I must wake up early for my first class at Queens. What an exciting new adventure we have both embarked on! I will hold the days in which we fought to win fair and square close to my heart, but I know for a fact you will do amazing at U of T.

Please, do tell me everything about your life in Toronto. I know you will do all of us proud with your studies, even if I'm not there to keep you on track.

I long for the day in which I get to hold you in my arms but until then, know that not a day will go by in which I don't rejoice in the love the two of us share.

With all my love,


P.S. Were you truly rendered speechless by my bosom friend as she screamed at you in the train? If so, I remain even more in debt to Diana Barry.