[ it's always been a quality of hers, to latch on to those who are kind to her, who she admires for one reason or another; she had become fast friends with Margaery for no other reason than that she was in desperate need of another girl's company, someone who seemed to understand her and want to spend time with her. nothing has changed, in that regard: she had seen Rosalind, smart and self-sufficient and clever with her words, and thought, oh, I wish I could be like her.

but she couldn't, and so she settled for admiring her, enjoying the time they spent together, took the not-quite-maternal advice Rosalind had given her and wondered whether, if her parents had had another daughter, one older than her... if they'd had a relationship like this, too.

it's only now that she realizes her thoughts have hardly been obvious, and she bites her lip, eyes widening in alarm. ]

I'm sorry, that wasn't... I didn't mean to sound too presuming. I just — growing up, Arya and I were the only girls, and we never got along, we were too different, and I always thought if only I could have a sister who was a true lady, kind but strong and smart, someone I could look up to instead of be ashamed of.

[ she's babbling, she knows, but she can't seem to stop. ] I'm not ashamed of Arya anymore, she's incredible, the strongest person I know. I was such a foolish girl. [ a sigh. ] It seems I still am. [ she just hopes her foolishness didn't make Rosalind uncomfortable. ]