She jumped at the touch and looked up meeting brown eyes with her own red rimmed emerald. â€œDonaldâ€¦â€ she didnâ€™t know the man, but she found herself pressing herself against his touch as she cried harder. Branwenn just wanted to feel what comfort was like, since her mother had died, her father had become the cold portly man who had been so brash as to force her, ripping her dress, and pushing her towards an unwanted marriage without so much as a decent explanation.<br/><br/>Her frail shoulders shook , as for once since her motherâ€™s death she reverted to a child, frail, delicate, and easily hurt. The dress she wore was torn at its shoulder making the dress slide from her pale shoulder. Small nimble hands pressed against a firm chest as she clung to the comfort he brought. â€œDonald, I am sorry for being such a botherâ€¦If I disgraced your village in any wayâ€¦â€ She sobbed as large tears trailed down where they were soaked up by the fabric of his clothing.