Brat Farrar (bratfarrar) wrote,
Brat Farrar

drabbles: Cordelia [shakespeare]

Three glimpses of Cordelia from King Lear. I think I'm becoming a Lear groupie.


I am cast down -Cordelia, V.iii

I will die soon–I can see it–and all my efforts come to naught; no cages for me, nor no royal funeral. My father speaks of prayers and butterflies, and for his sake I wipe my traitorous tears and hold my head high. He speaks of a captive life, full despite bars, but I see only a death. My sisters cannot allow us either happiness nor hope, for they have neither.

Edmund bids us away to our cell, and I know it will be a tomb. Though either father or husband may try to save me, it is already too late.


He hath slept long -the physician, IV.vii

He breathes yet, and you are glad, despite the way he once struck at you, unable to see your love. And, blindly, you love him still.

The physician speaks in a hush while Kent (dear soul) hovers about the two of you. He has risked more, endured more, than you have, but it is you that your father sees when he awakes.

Something flickers in his eyes as you tell him you have no cause to hate him, and you are glad. It is life, something which (although you do not know it) has been abroad with you, in France.


Majesty falls to folly -Kent, I.i

The stone floor is cool beneath her hands, as she crouches there like thrown away trash. Her father has exiled her for merely loving him. He is blind.

Kent speaks, in the distance, and for his loyalty is equally rewarded. Her sisters pluck at their expensive skirts and scheme, for the king has made himself vulnerable. Loyalty has been exiled, and treachery rewarded. Cordelia observes the exchange through eyes shrouded with tears and knows the end is coming.

Soon France–young, bold, and wise–will carry her away, but for now she kneels before the throne and mourns her poor unseeing father.
Tags: all fiction, drabbles, fanfiction, miscellaneous fandoms

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