Rosheen Tyrell is a headstrong young woman intent on forging her own destiny despite the restrictions of the Patriarchal world she lives in. Leaving Highgarden to visit King's Landing is an unexpected adventure wherein she meets a dragon with one e...
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"If I must stitch one more golden rose onto a useless lace cloth I will throw myself into the Mander!" Rosheen emphasized her sudden outburst by tossing the infuriating stitchery aside and collapsing back upon the lounge.
Maude her septa, a kind yet firm old matron, lowered her own project and fixed the young woman with a severe gaze, "You must perfect the arts of being a proper lady, no respectable lord will want your hand in marriage if you insist on behaving like a little beast."
"I wish I were a little beast, perhaps a cat, or a beaver. At least they get to choose what happens to them. But alas, I was born a woman." Rosheen ignored her septa's disappointed glare and turned her attention to the crackling flames before her. The room they were in was elaborate, white marble twisting in swirls and forming delicate roses around the vast fireplace. Tapestries of ladies bestowing their favours to gallant knights at a tourney decorated the walls and sconces added their firelight to the warm glow of the room. Shadows danced and played across the plush ornamental carpet and Rosheen pushed her slippered feet deeper into it. She fisted the rich gold fabric of her skirts and finally looked up at the scrutiny of her Septa.
The older woman's eyes had softened considerably. Rosheen took courage and opened her mouth to voice the worry she had been feeling for days, "Maude I do not wish to go to King's Landing, lords and their business do not interest me." The Septa had made a move to interrupt, so Rosheen hurried on, "You know this! I want to stay in Highgarden surrounded by my books. Where I can ride horses, go hawking, and still take lessons from Master Wingrave."
At the mention of Rosheen's swordplay tutor the Septa abruptly stood up, her wrinkled face looking severe, "If it were my place I would have counseled your father against hiring that old fool, swordplay indeed. You are a young lady, not a boy, your hands should be busy with the harp strings not an instrument of death such as that! I've heard enough, the decision has been made and we leave for King's Landing to be there in time for the MidSummer Festival. Now go to your chambers, the hour grows late, and this old woman has had enough of your fretting."
Rosheen stood slowly; she was a head taller than Maude and had a strong build unusual for a high-born lady. Growing up she often was teased by her peers for being larger than they and this insecurity followed her into womanhood. As a young girl Rosheen would stand in front of her mirror and push on her own shoulders willing them to sink a few inches.
She made her way out of the warm room into the dark and cool corridor, her footsteps padding softly on the granite floor as Rosheen walked leisurely towards her chambers. Her head swam with thoughts and no small amount of resentment. "Leave me." She didn't wish for company as, with swirling skirts, she entered her chambers and dismissed her servants. A tiny shrug of shame pulled at her mind due to the shortness of the command, but every Rose has her thorns. Rosheen slumped onto a stool and pushed her palms against the cool marble of the vanity, staring critically at her glass reflection.
