"Friya and Phloria are your sisters so I knew that you cared about them. I also knew that there had to be some level of sisterly competition among you so I figured that by 'remembering' only your name I would make you feel special." The Tyrant replied.
"You sure did." Quylla sat on her bed, not sure if she was hurt more by Morok making sense or hearing Phloria's name. "So, it's a no on a child?"
"It's a no if you want one because your sister died. It's a yes if you want one because you want one." He knelt in front of her, taking her hands. "Do you realize that for at least two months you'd be no more powerful than you are now and the baby would be at high risk on the battlefield?
"Do you want to make a child as an act of love or just forge a weapon of revenge? Before answering me, please think of what kind of story you want to tell our kid once they are old enough."
Quylla kept her gaze low, pondering his words while Morok caressed her fingers.
