Chapter 18

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I'm so, so sorry for how long it has taken me to update this; I've had exams and results and so much going on including wanting to write new fanfics (Seneca/Katniss ❤️ Emmett Cullen ❤️  Martin Madrazo ❤️ ) that I blocked it all. This wasn't really the direction that I wanted to take this story into but I'm hoping it'll work. 


Any who... How good has Season 7 been so far,  Euron Greyjoy is up there right now 😍 😂 😍. The shade of it all! Sansa is kind of a bitch but I am living for it; and Arya 👌👌👌👌 I'm so excited for episode 2 on Monday that I'm staying up until 2 for it. Who needs sleep when you have Game of Thrones, amirite? Anyway, on with the chapter... 



Chapter 18


Oberyn had been gone for almost two months now, the hurt that surrounded his departure turning to scars on the Queen's emotions as she pushed aside the thoughts; focusing on keeping the young girl she had been so fond of happy and content; to keep it as though her father never even left.



It had been hard to do; they had spent so many days out doing new and exciting things; it almost made Rosie forget. Almost. She couldn't quite; there had been no letters left for her, no word; not even Doran had so much as a whisper.



Rosie turned back to the handmaiden, the small girl's quick hands to lace the back of the dress as she went; Rosie gasped as the dress grew tight, her hand grasping out to reach at something. Surely they aren't usually like this? "Ma'am, I really don't mean to be rude but your dress... it doesn't seem to be fitting as well as it did." The small handmaiden said, fearfully gazing up at the Dragon Queen, her hands fiddling with each other. Rosaerys could feel the nerves roll from the girl's quivering body; she wanted to reach out, tell her not to worry but in truth Rosie was worried.



Everything she had packed from home was snug, gripping tight to her hips as though the very fabric was going to burst at the seams. Rosie was embarrassed, the way she was stuffing her face with the rich Dornish oranges and dark meat. She should have been more careful.





Rosie shook her head, the blonde curls bouncing to her face. "I know, I don't know what to do. I need to be more careful, Meereenese food is so different from here, I'm just not use to it. What am I going to do for clothes? My breeches are tight, as are my dresses; the only thing that fits are adjustable tunics." She moaned sinking to her feet, it was times like this she wished she was back with the Khalasar, where she didn't have to worry about how she dressed or what she ate. Everyday was just taken as it came; no scheming, only the pure uncensored way of life that the Dothraki took.



But now? Being a Queen meant opulence, beauty, and style; the way she presents herself tells them everything about her rule. She needed to look good, to maintain that she was worthy of being followed, and that not only did she take care of herself, but she would take care of others.



Rosie turned to the side, gazing at her waist. It had grown. Significantly. "I can't believe it." She whispered, touching at the bulge; the skin firm beneath her touch. Rosie couldn't believe she had never noticed it until now, especially as Oberyn was supposed to be home soon.

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