He is not unsympathetic to what she says; he is not unaware of it, either. It has all passed through his mind a thousand times in their sojourn here, and he wishes only to lay the matter to rest, to see that tension lifted from her shoulders and from his own. There is so much that he would like her to understand, to see through his eyes: how her father's cruelties chafe against old scars, and how long he held his tongue before she ever entered his life; how silence does nobody any service, and will win nothing for them or for their son; how he does not intend violence, is not ignorant of the cost of conflict, but how it is not in him to be silent always. Even to his own father, he spoke out of turn to call out foolishness and cruelty; and he almost tells her so, almost tells her that it is not a matter of on what ground they stand, but on what principle. Not a matter of whether a lesson is learned, but whether it is offered.
He says none of this. It would not be helpful, and - he knows too well - she would not understand. It would not change her mind. She has changed since their wedding, changed since the fight that almost pulled them asunder, but she has not changed that much. He would not ask her to. She is who she is, and he loves her - but he does wish, even so, that she could understand.
He sighs, looking down at Borahîl. And then there is that last from her, that comment that he understands now too well, and he sighs more deeply for it, closing his eyes.
"Your gods are cruel, then, if they would make an innocent the cost of a proud man's stubbornness." He looks up at her then, and cannot wholly hide the reproach in his gaze. "He is not a lesson, Cersei. He is a child."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-01-14 09:22 pm (UTC)He says none of this. It would not be helpful, and - he knows too well - she would not understand. It would not change her mind. She has changed since their wedding, changed since the fight that almost pulled them asunder, but she has not changed that much. He would not ask her to. She is who she is, and he loves her - but he does wish, even so, that she could understand.
He sighs, looking down at Borahîl. And then there is that last from her, that comment that he understands now too well, and he sighs more deeply for it, closing his eyes.
"Your gods are cruel, then, if they would make an innocent the cost of a proud man's stubbornness." He looks up at her then, and cannot wholly hide the reproach in his gaze. "He is not a lesson, Cersei. He is a child."