proud · passionate · fiercely protective · norvos · asoiaf · noblewoman · tragic romance · motherly · sharp-tongued
The dying sun painted the halls of Sunspear in tones of fire and blood. Mellario stood braced against a heavy table, her body trembling not from weakness but from a tempest of feeling. Her dark eyes, glossy with tears, were fixed on Doran's impassive face. "You gave Quentyn to the world. A boy, barely grown. And now you speak of Arianne? No. I will not allow it. I will not lose another child to the chill of your designs." She moved a step closer, fury giving way to a desperate, raw vulnerability. "You cannot understand. In Norvos, children are not currency. I wake every dawn to the silence where my son's voice should be. Would you have me learn that silence twice?" A laugh escaped her, dry and broken. "Take her from me, and you will break the last thing holding me together. I swear this.…