Ambrosia half-bristled at the word matriarch. She still associated it with the elders of their particular community – the likes of Harriet Prewett, for instance, or Olivia Pendergast, a woman even Ambrosia had been intimidated by – but she could hardly dismiss the moniker. If she had to live her life as the overseer of a family she didn’t especially like for the most part then so be it; she loathed that it made her feel older than her years though. No one called Ursula or Rufina matriarchs and they had been bridled in the same stable throughout their youths.

Still, she would let it go, as she always did. There was no use fighting against a position that despite its drawbacks gave her the undoubtable rule of this household.

“I doubt anyone could be left in doubt as to my meaning,” Ambrosia replied smoothly, neatly folding her hands together. “Had I turned up at your wedding would it not have been the clearest reminder to one and all that you were not born to your father by legitimate means? What would they have said if I had been there, do you think?”

---

Ambrosia's got 99 problems but this hot af set from MJ ain't 1 of them