#myriam vc: my waistline? im clocking off this shift

[myriamas]

who: @morsmartelll​​ where: myriam allyrion’s chambers, dorne

.

         A QUIET SENSE OF RELIEF was a feeling she had not been able to deny; a brief period of uncertainty regarding whether she had fallen with child had finally been answered with a firm no. and yet her relief was not from a place of finally having an answer she had anxiously awaited, but rather that answer being the one she wanted to hear. there had never been any pressure for the consort of dorne to fall with child again; not by her courtiers, and especially not by her husband; and whilst she had always been rather unsure, it was only in this moment did she fully comprehend she would rather not go through such an experience again.

she knew it would be okay; and yet perhaps a small part of her whispered of her selfishness. she had been a babe floating in a basket along the greenblood, only taken in by the allyrions due to lady allyrion being unable to part with the crying babe once she had been seen by a maester. and that crying babe had flourished within the walls of godsgrace; married to the prince of dorne, with a family to protect and further. the watergardens of sunspear were already aquatinted with the four children of riyansh martell, her only child orianna being one amongst her siblings, whose mother was her own paramour and companion, nyssaria antaryon. they had lived a happy, sheltered upbringing so far basking beneath the dornish sun, seeing one another as blood regardless of who they called mother.

hearing the noise of a door into her chambers close, she peered through the transparent curtains of her bed as she recognised the footsteps of her husband, pushing aside the curtains swiftly and extending a hand out to him to join her. "so they say, think of someone and they shall appear." she spoke, looking over his features; he seemed tired, though he always was, but perhaps more so since blackmont's disappearance. "it will interest you to know you will not be a father of five, my prince." she spoke, her tone light and cheery to indicate she were not heartbroken with the news, though she trailed off for a moment, squeezing his hand. how she always masked her brief insecurities with humour. "and should you wish to be, you'd have to persuade nyssaria...for i will not put my waistline to such torture." it is okay, she told him. truly.