Content Warning: mention of sexual assault. She doesn’t know the face of the king of Ithaca; the throne goes to whoever is bold enough to sit in it of a night, drunk and japing, japing and drunk, drunk, drunk. Always drunk. Melantho keeps her head down, and creeps past the raucous men, aching and sore, […]
So was that to be her portion, then, fair Sister whom our Father loved best? Ah, for her own good it was, so say I, Goneril, and who would know best? A doddering old fool driven mad by years and the entitlements of his sex and station? Or I, Cordelia’s sister, who knew her from […]