𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜 & 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 - 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗

Gifts and Embraces.

The morning air was crisp, and the chill nipped at the exposed skin of Lyanna's neck and chest. When she heard the Southern ladies complain about the cold, she should have understood that her definition of cold and theirs were two completely different things.

Lyanna liked the cold. She preferred it much more than the heat of the sun. She enjoyed the feeling of the wind kissing her skin and the warmth that spread from her chest. Yet as she stood in the courtyard, watching all the ladies being fussed over, she regarded every listening to the unknown ladies.

Her attendance at the outing was not her idea but her uncle's. It seemed that, with each passing day, Larys was more eager to give her away to any man who gave her the slightest attention. She was unsure who was hosting the event but knew of the people that would be in attendance.

Lyanna was determined to find out if Ser Alan was serious in their courting dance or if she was just another pretty thing for him to play with. She had thought that Ser Alan would have been a good match for her when she had first met him, but with each passing day and the presence of a certain prince, her confidence that he was serious about his attenuation shrunk.

She watched from beside the horse that was assigned for the day as the ladies of the court gathered together, laughing and whispering with one another. The fact only reminded Lyanna that she was an outsider among the people of the Crownlands.

Perhaps she should start to assimilate herself more with the customs here. She is sure Helaena would happily have her company during the masses that the Sept holds on the holy day. Or she could change her yellow and blue wardrobe to green. It seemed like she was going to be there for the long run.

Lyanna continued to run her bare hand over the horse's mane as she watched longingly at the ladies. Not paying attention to the words that her uncle was saying.

She had not paid attention to the words since he insisted she spend her day outside the Keep, choosing to act childless and pretend that her uncle did not exist. Larys would have been offended, but Lyanna always acted childishly when forced to do something she did not want to do.

Aemond watched from his post within the threshold of the courtyard as Lyanna petted the horse in front of her. The second he took the step out of the keep, he could not turn back once he was spotted.

The prince took a deep breath before straightening his back and making his way toward the two Strongs within the courtyard. The sword at his hip felt like it suddenly weighed a ton, and the gloves in his hand became as hot as Vhagar's wither skin.

Larys noticed him first. The cripple bowed his head to the prince and stepped away from his niece, allowing the two young adults a moment to themselves. Aemond should have known that Larys had heard of the blossoming friendship between him and Lyanna; it always seemed that Larys knew the things happening around the keep before anyone else.

"My Lady Strong," Aemond broke the silence between them, his hands gripping the gloves in his hand to the point his knuckles turned as white as them.

The prince's voice was enough for Lyanna to tear her gaze away from the ladies. As Lyanna turned to face the prince, she quickly curtsied to him before offering a kind smile. Before Lyanna could return the greeting, Aemond held out the pair of gloves in his hand.

They were cloth, Lyanna noted, as white as fresh winter snow with a few different colour flowers embroidered along the cuff. They were beautiful, yet she made no move to accept them, just looking at them as if they were made of fire.

Aemond waited for Lyanna to move to accept them, making a slight shift of his weight. He had spent the last few days reading about the culture of the first men, and he knew the significant meaning of a gift of gloves, but maybe this was too soon. Perhaps he should have started with letters and not moved straight to a piece of clothing.