one. her dress is a blinding white. around her is her maiden cloak, made of furs and embroidered with the sigil of her house. lyanna frowns when aegon takes it off and replaces it with targaryen red and black. tradition calls for him to do it, and the myriad of lords and ladies watching them from their seats smile and clap when the exchange is done. she can see cregan from where she stands before the vision of him is supplanted by the face of her soon-to-be husband. gray eyes meet mauve; he is the blood of the dragon, and the wolf in her refuses to look away. when he tilts her chin, her thoughts scatter like a flock of wild birds, and then his lips are on her â soft and firm, coaxing her mouth open. without much thought, lyanna obliges, allows him to take the lead, returns the pressure of his kiss with a tentative attempt of her own. oh, she thinks. when they break apart, she is out of breath, blinking, dazed, against the bright, afternoon light. oh.
two. they end up on the floor, sitting beside each other, their backs pressed against the wall. the table is forgotten and all the wine consumed. calling for the servants to bring them another carafe feels like breaking something sacred. they are alone, not for the first time since their marriage, but this time, it feels hallowed. like they're both teetering on the edge of something, and any sort of company is an unwelcome intrusion. lyanna turns to aegon with an unreadable gaze. âi don't want to be just another thing that makes you unhappy.â there is nothing tentative about the way she responds when he kisses her this time. lyanna welcomes the press of their mouths, the clash of their teeth, their arms going around each other like two half-drowned people looking for something to cling to. she kisses him with a hunger she's nursed quietly all this time. it speaks of desperation and loneliness, and something else she's not quite ready to name. lyanna doesn't stop. aegon doesn't either.
three. she's been giving him the cold shoulder. he's been dragged back into their chambers the night before last, reeking of alcohol and slurring his words. aegon has promised to be more mindful countless times now it seems. but he's always falling back into his old vices, crawling back to her with an apology, only to do it again after a few days. her attempts to talk it out with him had been spurned, and the moment his defenses rose, so did her temper. she should not have yelled at him, but some days, she doesn't know how else to make him listen. lyanna looks up from the training yard to see him watching her. the weak morning light turns his hair the brightest silver, and her heart leaps to her throat at the sight of him. after she's done, she walks towards him, squinting against the sun. âwhat are you doing out of bed?â it's too early for him to be awake. the she-wolf knows her dragon husband too well by now. but something in the way he's staring at her tugs at lyanna's heartstrings. she pulls him by the hand, sighs loudly and heavily, before gently kissing a cut on his cheek that he no doubt got by falling over somewhere. âlet's have breakfast,â she says, âand then we'll talk.â
four. they bring him back from rook's rest half delirious and half sedated, drunk out of his wits with milk of the poppy. when lyanna sees his injuries, she begins to understand, and her mind splits into a thousand different directions, each of them worried sick and angry, each of them bent towards aegon. she stays by his bedside night and day and has to be forced to rest by queen alicent before she collapses in their chambers, her dreams haphazard and feverish and full of him. only after the worst of it has passed did she allow the children to come see him. alaric is devastated, baelon full of questions, and alyssa disturbingly quiet at the foot of her father's bed. they are eventually taken away to their lessons, except for alaric who has fallen asleep and has to be gently carried off by a nursemaid. âthey're worried about you, you know. they miss you.â lyanna doesn't know if aegon can hear her, but it has never stopped her from confiding in him even as he lay unresponsive and in agony. she takes his uninjured hand in her own and kisses the protruding bones of his knuckles, keeping it pressed upon her lips for a long time. âcome back to me,â she whispers, eyes wet with tears. âplease, my love. come back to me.â
five. their farmhouse has huge windows. lyanna stands before one of them, watching the children play in the tall grass when she feels an arm snake around her waist and the comforting warmth of her husband press against her back. lyanna leans against him, head on his chest while her hands anchor themselves against his arms. both of them are scarred, aegon more than her, but they are still somewhat whole, barring the pieces of them that felt torn out at the death of so many loved ones. they left westeros under the cover of night, aided by those who remained fond and loyal to them both. and now they have a chance at a normal life, at a peaceful one, if not for their sake then for the sake of their three children, and the one currently stirring in lyanna's belly. âthey're enjoying themselves,â she tells him as they watch alyssa throw a clump of dirt at baelon's chest. alaric laughs something maniacal, and baelon gets ready to stage his own attack while alyssa tries to get out of range. the she-wolf turns around to face her dragon husband with a raised brow. âhow about a kiss for your jocelyn, my dear jaehaerys?â she brings her lips to his and smiles into the kiss before it breaks out into full-on laughter from them both. breathless, lyanna stares at aegon, still amused by the absurdity of having made-up names, but comforted by the fact that they're still together. this new life has proven challenging for both of them, and for the most part, they're still trying to figure it out. but they're facing every hurdle hand in hand, confronting every trial as a unit, as they've always done. âi love you,â she says, smoothing aegon's hair away from his face. âi love you, and i always will.â
