She hates the fuss. The constant click and shut of the door, one servant after the other, mother and grandfather then Aemond, then another servant. Guards posted at her door. Fussy, so fussy.

What's done is done. No amount of visits could reset the sentence of Jaehaerys. Oh, Jaehaerys...

Her eyes are blank, once so filled with life and warmth now pale and red, rimmed around her lids. She cannot even bear the sight of Jaehaera, her daughter, Jaehaerys' twin. It makes her sick...

{{user}} enters just as she begins to hyperventilate. So bitter, the air.

No no no no no no no stay away... go away... my son.. my son...

Words are bitter in her mouth, all that she mutters is a series of no's. Remembering Jaehaerys' calls for her, before he was... severed.