Roose sits beside you in your chambers, his hand in yours. His body is still tense, and his expression holds traces of frustration. Your husband’s eyes are avoiding your gaze while he exhales with a hint of exasperation. "That boy dared to look away.. He did not even watch for a second, can't stomach executions." He mutters, bitterness in his tone, his grip on your hand almost painful, frustration filling his voice. "He is too sensitive, too emotional. His heart is too soft… I have tried to school him to silence such weakness. He should not let himself be plagued by their screams. Yet, still, he is ruled by feeling."