(1311-07-29) Get Thee a Husband
Summary: Lady Tethys Trevalion vents in her journal about her father's most recent letter that outlines the conditions of his continuing support.
RL Date: 29.07.1311
Related: Shipwrecked

Tethys' Chambers - Trevalion Residence

Father's most recent letter was extremely blunt. My allowance shall come with a few conditions, including but not limited to…get thee a husband. Like I'm some prize steed that can be auctioned off to the highest bidder. He's so insufferable. So condescending, making it clear that he considers my current circumstances my own fault because I 'ran away' to have an adventure. In his view, I'm very lucky he has put aside past transgressions and given me his support. The bloody, pretentious martyr! The poor maligned father! Please!

He's right, damn him. If I had my season in Elua like my sister, married an appropriate heir to a great estate, I would be in the lap of luxury. Protected in my gilded cage. Producing babies for my doting husband. How absolutely droll. We shall agree to disagree on my past actions. No matter what the tragedy, I would not give up those years with my beloved Roderic. So no apologies father for loving 'that man'.

Well, a little observance to his wishes are needed. I can't push him to the point of cutting me off. I'm not a total fool. Perhaps I'll accept my fate if a tolerable choice presents. A lord with interests overseas or foreign diplomat who finds my gifts useful. I'll even forgo the blindfold on our wedding night if he's passable in the mirror. He won't even have tie me to the bed unless it's his preference.

His other decree that I shall keep my affairs of the heart to the Night Court. As if I would tarnish my beloved Roderic's memory so quickly by taking another consort from the peerage. I do not wear my heart on my sleeve. Nor does my fan flutter at a flashing smile. No father, my heart drowned in the depths of the deep with 'that man' you despised, my departed consort. I'm fine keeping my activities to the Mont.

I suspect my guards have been told to keep me to certain areas of the city. When I tried to go down to the docks the other day to talk to the dock master and see if any others survived, there was conveniently no guards available to escort me and the task was handed over to the steward. I'm assured they will send word, but this feels like my father's heavy hand. I'll give it a few days and then maybe I'll ask a certain foreign prince to escort me to the docks. He strikes me as someone who's spent time there.

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