She grimaces, wiping her fingers on her napkin as the last of the steak disappears. That's the sort of speech that had made Ragnar so cautious of her, isn't it. But it's hard to think of a better way to word it, when Lola has to put the image of Ivar doing things with his mystery cavalier.
"You saw me after she was born, I thought you'd understand. I was losing my mind in that house. Winter wouldn't let me touch her, Ivar wouldn't let me be away from her, I kept seeing my husband in the crowds when I left the house. I'd lie awake at night and think about leaving her beyond the wall, or gouging Ivar's eyes out, and I couldn't stand the thought that I might actually do that one day. I thought if I left, at least everyone else could enjoy her. She was supposed to be the one thing left of my home, but she only served to prove what a failure I was, I couldn't take that." She drains a portion of her milkshake haughtily to give herself time to breathe. "I thought perhaps now that I'd had... time, to regret, and mourn, I could try my hand at being what everyone wants of me again. But now everyone tells me I'm not allowed to have her back, because I left the first time. As if I've ever hurt her in the past - it was always her hurting me. I thought someone might appreciate that I'm accepting that burden again. And I would think if Ivar wanted to be rid of me, he would at least have the courtesy to give me back my child to which he has no claim, but I have to assume he's keeping her out of vanity. Since he can't make his own."
She's already plenty sullen, having lost the chipper mask that she was trying to keep. She'd much prefer to act like she's above all of this, but she is hurting deeply, struggling with all sorts of problems she's never had to confront before... things that getting everything on a silver spoon definitely didn't prepare her for. And she can't help one last petty remark.
"And anyway, he can't be doing anything with Marco, he's only done anything with me. It wouldn't work otherwise."
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She grimaces, wiping her fingers on her napkin as the last of the steak disappears. That's the sort of speech that had made Ragnar so cautious of her, isn't it. But it's hard to think of a better way to word it, when Lola has to put the image of Ivar doing things with his mystery cavalier.
"You saw me after she was born, I thought you'd understand. I was losing my mind in that house. Winter wouldn't let me touch her, Ivar wouldn't let me be away from her, I kept seeing my husband in the crowds when I left the house. I'd lie awake at night and think about leaving her beyond the wall, or gouging Ivar's eyes out, and I couldn't stand the thought that I might actually do that one day. I thought if I left, at least everyone else could enjoy her. She was supposed to be the one thing left of my home, but she only served to prove what a failure I was, I couldn't take that." She drains a portion of her milkshake haughtily to give herself time to breathe. "I thought perhaps now that I'd had... time, to regret, and mourn, I could try my hand at being what everyone wants of me again. But now everyone tells me I'm not allowed to have her back, because I left the first time. As if I've ever hurt her in the past - it was always her hurting me. I thought someone might appreciate that I'm accepting that burden again. And I would think if Ivar wanted to be rid of me, he would at least have the courtesy to give me back my child to which he has no claim, but I have to assume he's keeping her out of vanity. Since he can't make his own."
She's already plenty sullen, having lost the chipper mask that she was trying to keep. She'd much prefer to act like she's above all of this, but she is hurting deeply, struggling with all sorts of problems she's never had to confront before... things that getting everything on a silver spoon definitely didn't prepare her for. And she can't help one last petty remark.
"And anyway, he can't be doing anything with Marco, he's only done anything with me. It wouldn't work otherwise."