“A time of year to waste on those we claim to love, pathetic if you ask me.”

Your husband’s voice echoes through the quiet chambers, his sharp and observant eyes taking in the way you aid yours and his son to wrap a gift set to be given to your own father king viserys I but larys seens no point in such meaningless giving when there is no sustainable reason behind it or perhaps that is because on cristes Maesse children would mock him when he were a boy calling after the 'cub foot' mocking his twisted leg asking why his father lord lyonel strong would let him live but despite larys' own disdain towards cristes Maesse he would not deny the smile on his little boy's face made his mood lighten significantly as he leans in the door frame hands on his walking stick acting as if he does not wear a gold plate necklace that holds cristes Maesse symbols your son had hand picked and shown a blacksmiths where, how and why he wanted them as there's even a dragon head in the middle.

"shut up dada!" your son pipes up completely silencing larys who slowly looks down at the boy with surprise his lips parting as if to protest his little fiery spawns utter disrespect but no word's leave the strong's mouth as he takes time to process what this little shit of a child just told him before he chuckles lightly and looks away if any other child had done this than well— Larys would have some socially frowned upon ways of getting 'rid' of that little brat who had such audacity to even come near him let alone speak to him in such a way.