Chapter Text
End of 282 AC - King's Landing
Lyanna POV
A few hours into the wedding feast, Rhaegar had lightly touched her elbow—sending a thrill throughout her body—and together, they stood as he motioned for the minstrels to quiet. In his deep voice, her husband thanked their guests for attending before stating, "The Queen and I shall now retire. Continue to enjoy the night in our honor, good friends."
To Lyanna's relief, only a round of cheers and chants to their long life had followed. No ribald comments or suggestions like she had heard at Bethany's wedding to Roose Bolton. Her eyes had searched for her family, but she could not find them in the crowd.
Rhaegar offered her his arm and led her out to the gardens.
The kingsguard and three of her ladies followed closely behind as they walked through rows of flowers and towards the entrance of the Red Keep's godswood. The sky had turned dark, and the tidy dirt path was illuminated by hanging lanterns.
Her husband was quiet as they walked through the forest. Despite the year-long letters and the conversations they had held, Lyanna felt awkward around the man she had just married. They had never been alone except during the rainstorm and a few stolen moments. What shall he be like in private?
Lost in her thoughts, she was startled to see her father had met them on the pathway. Rhaegar brought her to a stop and did not look as surprised as she felt.
"Lord Stark," her husband's tone was low and carried respect for her lord father. "You have my thanks for joining us."
"It is my pleasure, Your Grace," her father's voice was also deep, but his was thick with emotion.
Lyanna was confused by their words and admitted, "I do not understand…."
Her voice drifted off as Rhaegar removed his arm from hers. He turned to look at her and gave a small, reassuring smile.
"You keep to the gods of old," her husband stated. "It is simply my wish for us to be blessed by them."
Lyanna felt as though her heart had lodged deep in her throat.
Rhaegar added, "If you want as well."
Tears began to well up in her eyes as she realized what he was doing. He was giving her a choice. A needless one, but a choice nonetheless.
Lyanna lightly cleared her throat before answering, "I shall meet you beneath the heart tree."
She watched as the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. Rhaegar inclined his head before walking away—off to the godswood's heart tree, she assumed. Ser Brynden and Ser Gerold followed their king with their white cloaks billowing behind them.
Lyanna stared until the three men disappeared into the night.
"Your Grace," Berena's light voice brought her out of her stupor. Her friend was looking at her with a watery smile. "Lady Rowan and I will be honored to hold your cloak."
Without protest, she allowed her ladies to remove the weighted, red velvet and ermine-lined fabric from her shoulders. In its place, her lord father draped his warm grey cloak, trimmed in white fox fur.
"His Grace is honorable man," her father's voice was rough as he spoke. He gave her a small kiss on her forehead before saying, "I foresee many years of happiness in your future, my darling."
She gave her father a smile and took his arm. Then, together, they walked the path Rhaegar had taken before them.
As they approached, Lyanna took in the view around her. The Red Keep's heart tree was a large oak. Smokeberry vines overcame its limbs, and no face stared back. It was no weirwood, yet she still felt the presence of the gods.
To the left of the tree, Rhaegar looked striking beside his mother and the kingsguard. The white of their armor and cloaks glistened in the low light, as did the pale hair of the two Targaryens. Her brothers and Tytos Blackwood stood to the other side as they awaited them. As Lyanna and their father drew nearer, Brandon moved away from Benjen and asked, "Who comes before the gods?"
Their father answered. "Lyanna of House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"
"I do," Rhaegar said and stepped forward. "Rhaegar of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm. I claim her. Who gives her?"
"Rickard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, her father," her father's voice did not waver as he recited the words. Then, removing his arm from hers, he turned to look at her. "My daughter, will you take this man?"
With a lasting look at her father, Lyanna shifted her eyes to Rhaegar. His dark purple eyes were nearly black in the candlelight, but she saw an emotion she could not place. Was it unease? Fear of rejection?
They were already married in the eyes of the kingdom. Surely Rhaegar could not be nervous.
With a start, she realized that all she wanted in the world was to put him at ease.
Lyanna held her hand to him and spoke the words she once feared would take away all her freedom.
"I take this man."
----
The ceremony had gone by quickly after their vows had been exchanged. Rhaegar's hand had held hers as they knelt before the heart tree and had only let go to place his cloak around her shoulders.
Rhaella had come forward and kissed her forehead before asking Ser Blackwood to escort her back to the feast. The rest of their friends and families continued to congratulate them. After a while, Rhaegar suggested they should retire to Maegor's Holdfast.
Before they left, Brandon kissed her cheek, and Benjen hugged her middle tight. Their presence had made her heart ache at the thought of their absent brother. Part of her had wished their father had not insisted Ned stayed in Winterfell, but she took solace that she would soon see her brother for his own wedding.
Her father softly kissed the top of her head before bowing to her new husband. Then, their party returned to the feast. Lyanna was left with Rhaegar, her ladies, and the kingsguard.
Her husband had taken her hand in his and held it all the way to the royal apartments.
Her nerves had flared as they drew closer, but Rhaegar surprised her again by halting near the queen's chambers. With downcast eyes, he had said, "I thought you may wish for attendance. Your ladies await you, my wife."
Wife. It had been the first time he had addressed her as such, and warmth flooded her body.
He took her silence as acceptance. Then, with a soft kiss on her cheek, he quickly left her before walking towards his own chambers.
She remained there in a slight stupor before a gentle nudge from Berena. As she and her ladies entered the room, they saw Lady Donella and a few giggling serving girls awaiting them.
The older woman directed Berena, Jonelle, and Rhonda to help Lyanna change out of her garments. The maids took the clothing away to be preserved along with the two cloaks from the ceremonies.
All the jewels and rings had been removed, her hands and neck freed from their weight.
Her heavy robes were replaced with a soft Myrish lace shift, and her smallclothes with a pair made of silk. As her ladies went about tying the lace strings at her nape, she admired the silver color's shine and the gown's softness.
Lyanna flushed when she realized the thinness of the delicate fabric. She knew it was the purpose of such cloth, but it embarrassed her nonetheless. Every woman in the room knew of the marital act that would soon take place.
Lady Donella suggested Lyanna use the chamber pot behind a screen and had a servant hand her a damp cloth to clean herself.
Afterward, her ladies started on her hair by lifting the silver circlet from Lyanna's head, and Rhonda began to carefully undo the intricate braids. Finally, Berena and Jonelle brushed out her hair until it was left in soft waves.
Once their tasks were completed, Lady Donella dismissed everyone from the room. Berena gave Lyanna a soft kiss on her cheek before following the other women out the door.
When Lyanna had selected her ladies-in-waiting, the Queen Mother had recommended finding a firm Head Mistress to lead them. Lady Donella Hornwood had been her sole consideration—with good reason. Her former tutor was gentle but instructed the other women with a strong voice. Donella had also become a mother-like figure to her as the memories of Lyarra Stark faded over time.
Silence filled the room as she was left alone with the older woman.
"You did beautifully today," the Lady of Hornwood said kindly as she smoothed Lyanna's hair. "I only hope I have prepared you for your duties, my dear."
"I-I feel nervous, my lady," Lyanna admitted softly.
"Every woman does whilst facing her marriage bed," the woman replied with a smile. Lyanna watched as she picked up a vial of rose water with jasmine and dabbed it lightly on a finger. Lady Donella lightly touched Lyanna's wrists and behind her ears before putting the vial back on the desk. "The Gods have given you much fortune. The king is a good man."
Lyanna nodded in agreement before saying, "His Grace has treated me with a true knight's honor." She hesitated before softly confessing, "I am afraid that—I feel I am more nervous by the act of it. If he will be pleased by me."
Lady Donella gave a loud snort, surprising Lyanna. The woman had often chided her in her youth for the unladylike sound.
"He may be a king, but he is still a man," she said with a knowing look, and Lyanna felt flushed. Lady Donella stood back and examined her closely, "You are perfect, my dear. His Grace will be more than pleased by you."
Lyanna watched as the woman brought over an ornate cloak but stopped her, "I have no need of that, my lady. These southern lands know nothing of the cold."
Lady Donella smiled and nodded at her command. After lighting a nearby lantern, the Head Mistress handed it to her and instructed, "Those doors lead to a hallway that connects to the king's chambers." Lady Donella curtsied a low bow to Lyanna and added, "By your leave, Your Grace."
Lyanna stood and nodded her permission. The lady hesitated beside the door and gave her a final farewell.
"May the gods bless you."