❝ She realised that no one was coming to save her, so she saved herself. ❞
Jaime marries Ned Stark's daughter upon the king's command. Lyarra is a capable lady of the Westerlands and a dutiful wife, but when war breaks out between the Starks and the...
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❝Death is so terribly final, while life is full of possibilities.❞
-George RR Martin
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The newly-made Lady Lannister sighed and crouched down in front of her wolf. She undid the chains around her paws and allowed Fang to run around the kennel for a bit. Lyarra giggled at the sight of her wolf running in circles and woofing happily.
"Come now, Fang. I want to show you your new room," Lyarra cooed, opening the kennel door and allowing Fang to run out before her.
Given that Fang had been stuck in a confined space for the last week and unable to stretch her legs for much longer than thirty minutes, Lyarra let her run free around the courtyard, only restraining her when there were people approaching. Many people eyed her wolf with barely concealed disdain. Lyarra had to remind herself that their opinion did not matter. She was a Stark of Winterfell – and now a Lannister, wed to their liege lord's heir – she shouldn't have to dance around them to keep them happy. But yet, some insecurity still remained.
Fang had to run up and down each corridor twice before moving along to the next, which meant that reaching her room took longer than she expected. Even after their lengthy walk, Fang was still full of energy. Lyarra wished that she could bring her for a much longer walk, but she had to attend the feast being held in honour of her marriage.
"We'll go for a longer walk tomorrow, I promise," Lyarra swore to her wolf, who tilted her head in response. "I might even ride on horseback and race you. How would you like that?" Her wolf woofed excitedly. Lyarra laughed. "There are times I could swear that you understand what I'm saying."
Rhea arrived in her chambers soon after Lyarra, rushing to get Lyarra into her bright blue dress and tidy her hair. When Rhea attempted to style her hair in a southern style, Lyarra stopped her and decided to do her own hair. She braided two strands of hair and tied them together at the back, allowing her dark brown hair to fall down her back. A northern hairstyle made her feel more comfortable. A southern up-do would only serve to make her feel like a fraud. She was no southern lady, her direwolf proved that, so why should she pretend to be?
Her husband arrived at her doorstep later that night, dressed in a finely embroidered red and gold doublet. Lyarra allowed herself only a moment to admire him before taking the arm he offered her and walking with him towards the hall.
"You look well tonight," Jaime remarked, eyeing her up and down. "Much better than you did at the kennels, covered in hay and dog shit and whatnot."
The little wolf could not help but roll her eyes at Jaime's vulgarity. She must have looked a right state when Jaime found her in the kennels, but there was no dog stool on her dress. "I was not covered in dog shit."
