Osric could understand the hurt that coursed through Isabella's heart. She had expected love and had received little in return. One could argue that their union had been a contract, a matter of duty rather than desire, but the human heart seldom obeyed contracts. She had underestimated her own longing, her desire to be cherished in return. She had told herself she could live without expectation, without reciprocity… but she had failed, terribly.
It was hard for her to accept because her heart was filled with love. All of that might have been true. He pitied the girl he had raised.
But…
"It gives you no excuse to stand idle while your eldest butchered his brothers. No excuse to kill the child born of love. And no excuse to break the oath of our blood, nor the vow you made: to him, and to me!"
His voice cut through the room with scathing fury, yet beneath it burned a deeper, quieter flame: personal disappointment.
