"HANDS TURNING LOOM...
SPOOL OF GREEN, SPOOL OF BLACK...
DRAGONS OF FLESH WEAVING DRAGONS OF THREAD..."
---
Roselyn Tully-Hightower, is stuck in the middle of the Dance of the Dragon's. The sickening blow of losing her husband and newborn son...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"WHY DON'T YOU GO GET YOURSELF ACQUAINTED BETTER?"
---¤𖠁¤---
5TH MOON OF 125 AC.
Staring at Ettore, she did not know what to think of what he had just confessed to her, her mind still reeling with mixed emotions. An odd mix of confused, conflicted, and the tiniest part of her deep down was relieved at the same time. In the entry of their seven year marriage, he did not find himself attracted to her⎯or rather, he did not find any woman attractive.
From what she had been taught by the Septa's, the Seven found it sinful, man should not lay with another man and a woman should not lay with another woman. But, on the other hand, she did not care if he did not find her attractive. It just meant that she was not forced to bed him over and over for his own pleasure like many other men forced their wives to do.
"I..I, um, what do we have to do to ensure you have an heir?" She blurts out, her face flushing at just how blunt her words sounded.
"What?"
"I do not care if you find more comfort in your Squires or other men, seek out who you must for your own pleasure and entertainment." She chews on her bottom lip, "All I ask is, what must we do to ensure you have an heir? I hear the whispers, from your family."
"Wait, you truly do not care? Truly?"
"No, I truly do not care. I do not know if that is wrong of me, if I should be more upset and angry at your confession." She explains, "I..I just do not care about it, it's not your fault."
Slowly lifting her eyes up from the ground to meet his gaze, she stares at him for a good second, taking in his reaction to her words. His face curled up into an ugly crying look, snot trickling from his nose. Curling her nose up at the look on his face, she watches as he lets out a ugly sob, a look of disgust forming at his over the top crying. He was an ugly crier.
"Ettore, stop crying. It is not that much of an issue." She brushes off, "You're making it a bigger issue than it actually is."
"I thought you would be mad." He hiccups, letting out an ugly sob.
"Well, I am not. Now, stop it. Stop, you look horrible when you cry and now you're making me regret having this conversation, Ettore." She argues, trying to get him to stop.
"I know that! I just.." He argues, a glob of snot bubbling up. "I thought you would be upset.."
"Well, I am not!" She argues, "Stop it, your Mother will think I made you cry if you keep this up."
Watching him let out a loud choked sound, she couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a sob or if he was laughing at her words, but it sounded horrible. It was like a grumpy cat being drenched in water or a young toddler forced into a bath. Cringing as he slowly starts to laugh, she scowls deeply when she realizes he was being overdramatic on purpose. The cheeky little bastard.
