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𝕷yra Baratheon loved one thing more than anything, dancing.
That was something she had never been able to do whilst she was in Winterfell, where large dances for all the Northern houses were rare. In fact, Lyra could only recall having ever gone to one ball and it had been on her sixteenth birthday, where her mother had organised a ball to introduce Lyra to the noble men of the Northern Houses. She had loved the dancing, but hated the other parts of the ball.
Lyra could also remember, in the year before she married Joffrey, the talks with Margaery about the harvest moon ball that they used to hold. She had dreamed of being able to dance with Joffrey in the dim light, having him swing her around. She would have loved being able to do that with him, but the Tyrell house had been destroyed in the war before the long winter.
She supposed that she could have also danced with Joffrey at their wedding, but they had been too busy trying to get Sansa out of the city and thus, she hadn't been able to. Lyra supposed, if she had to think back on those years, the one thing that she would most definitely want to revisit would be hers and Joffrey's wedding. She would tell herself to cherish that first kiss with him, the moments that she was able to have him all to herself before everything went wrong.
She'd remind herself to cherish all of it.
But now, as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Lyra was allowed to do the one thing that she had dreamt of doing for as long as she could remember. She was allowed to hold a royal ball, to spend her night dancing with her family, laughing and remembering all those that she loved and held dear to her. Invitations had been sent, replies had been noted and preparations had been well underway.
Now the night of it all was finally here, and Lyra was awash with nerves. She wanted this to be perfect. She wanted this memory to be perfect, so that she could think back on it all with a fond smile as she grew older.
"You look beautiful." Arah straightened Lyra's crown on her head, before letting her hands fall onto the woman's shoulders. "Absolutely stunning."
"You are too kind to me," Lyra squeezed the older woman's hand. Arah, a full fledged lady of the court, was still one of the few that Lyra trusted with helping her prepare for these events. If Margaery was alive, she would have been sitting in with Sansa, Myrcella and Arah on Lyra's meetings, but for now it had just been the four of them. None of them had any planning experience, but they'd managed the best they could, and Lyra hoped that it would work out well in the end. "Tylar will not be able to keep his eyes off of you."
"I am his wife, so I should hope so." Arah and Lyra both chuckled, before the queen finally stood from her seat to smooth out her dress. Her handmaids, who waited at the door, clapped and grinned at the sight of her.
