1867-04-17: It's my party...
It's my party…
Summary: Tia reflects on how the party went…
Date: April 17, 2016
Related: Tiadora's Birthday Party

After setting her presents on her desk, Tiadora sat before her small silvered mirror and started to wash away her subtle makeup. The party over, the guests gone, the food eaten and the rest given to the servants and the poor… now was when everything seems to sink in.

Why was he -so nice-? Why did he have to be as perfectly charming and kind and handsome as she always hoped he would be? Why did Clara have to do that to her?

She had spent her whole life knowing her future husband was someone chosen for his political value and contributions to her family's welfare. She knew some of the names her mother had mulled over for that eventuality. Men of piety. Men of wealth. Men with armies to their name. Men who would have helped her build her 'holy' Empire. There was no point getting attached to or fond of anyone because it would only break her heart when the contract was signed and sealed.

So a chance to dance with the first boy she'd ever found even remotely interesting (not that he was a -boy- oh no…). that chance just meant she had a moment of something she could never really have. Symon would be sure her husband was at least -nice- to her; he wouldn't trade her away without being sure she would be safe and somewhat content with her lot. Which was a lot more than Mother and Father would have allowed her…

Maybe what hurt the most was the nagging little voice in the back of her head which laid out all the wise political merits of her marrying Devlin. Aligning her house with the loyal Cassomirs, the King's own brother… that'd be a way to show the Gerrell devotion to peace and integration.

But how could she be so mean as to saddle Devlin with someone as broken and pathetic as herself? He deserved better.

Maybe Clara wasn't the mean one. Maybe her own selfish thoughts were the cruel ones, wanting him for herself.

And she ate far too much. Far far too much. Again.

Tiadora knelt before her small personal altar and prayed, head bowed and tears falling. She was a wicked creature and her best friend's sweet brother deserved far better than her.

So so ended Tiadora's 17th natal day.

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