Homesickness had been yet to truly affect her, until that day, even though there had been an almost constant sense of longing to see her brothers again. Resilient and adaptable her situation on Great Wyk hadn’t unsettled her when she’d always known that she’d leave Greyshield to better her standing. As soon as she’d been old enough to understand what would eventually be expected of her - what her future would or could look like - pragmatism had taken over and she’d begun to distance herself from the island that was supposed to be her home. If she would have to leave the island when she inevitably found a husband ( it wasn’t so much that her father was ambitious but she was, she knew she was beautiful enough to snare a good match and she intended to do so when she’d always thought herself worthy of gold and riches ) there was no point getting too attached to it. Still, emotions rarely listened to logic and despite having prepared herself to leave behind the place she’d grown up, she wasn’t quite ready to relinquish her fondness for it. At least not with the same willingness with which she’d left it. It was all just nostalgia though, memories of her siblings and the childhood that she’d had.
It had been a childhood defined by constant struggle between her and her sister to win the attention of her brothers. For years Viola seemed to come out on top. Always so soft and kind, her delicate composition verging on sickly more often than not in a way that lead to her constantly being fawned over. They were almost mirror images of one another, the same brown eyes that could plead with a man without saying a word, the same smiles that curved into such a pretty smile. She should have been able to rival her sister and they should have been a well matched pair. But Viola played the damsel as though she was born to be nothing more than helpless and Meredyth quickly learnt that she couldn’t compete with her sister. At least, not by playing her at her own game. Instead she made her favour hard to win with standards set so high they were almost impossible to meet. It had been a tricky act to master when if played wrongly it might have caused some to abandon their efforts but with a smile just as pretty as her sister’s she found that her approval was still sought after, perhaps even more so when it posed a challenge to all those who tried to win it. It gave her power and influence, on a small scale perhaps but because of it she’d never considered herself to be helpless.
But in the aftermath of Gorold’s declaration she was suddenly all too aware that she was alone, isolated and almost ally-less. For the first time she realised that she had been left her powerless and completely at the mercy of the men around her. Even throughout Greyshield’s occupation she had felt as though she had some control, setting her sights on Greydon and using their bond to her advantage to secure herself the best outcome possible. Her feelings for him were a happy accident but nonetheless she had willingly returned to Hammerhorn with him with every intention of becoming his wife. Instead his father had laid claim to her, a far cry from the husband she had dreamt of for herself and all she was left feeling was anger and betrayal that her supposed love had said nothing to stop it. She’d left the room as quickly a possible without making her exit too obvious and once in the relative sanctuary that was her quarters she began to rip the fixings from her hair. Her fuming was soon interrupted and with one glance at the door her expression darkened. “I have nothing to say to you.” Tone was harsh and gaze aflame with unspoken accusation but she looked at him just long enough for him to register her fury, moments later turning away from him with chin lifted in haughty faux indifference.
@ofthefirstmen