PYROPHILIA ▸ Aegon the Conqueror

20. ( Thank you )

° Chapter 20 °

" Thank you "

Despite Lyarra's hopeful attitude towards the new place she now called home , it had turned out the Eyre was worse than she expected. There was rarely any sunlight beaming, reflecting through the windows of the castle. The air was chilly up here - not as cold as in Winterfell - but she soon found out she wasn't as resilient to it as she once was. She was more of a Southern now, for even the tiniest bit in the Vale that reminded her of the North had started to irritate her. How brute Ronell's men were, how melancholically and boring the women dressed here, how she could no longer see the beautiful blooming gardens or the view of Flea Bottom from her balcony, but an endless space of dark green grass, which reminded her of mold and the mountains that appeared to enclose the Vale.

But most importantly it wasn't as if Ronell could make this whole situation any better. The boy who was sweet and worried about hurting her on their first night, as the months went by, had turned into a more mature, more distant - and much colder - version of him. He still cared for her and he still wanted to make her feel like home here, but he made it seem more like an obligation than something he actually wanted to do for her.

The moments he spent with her were mostly filled with silence, the two of them sitting together in the main Hall or lying next to each other on their bed. They didn't have a lot to talk about. Ronell was different from the men she had met in King's Landing. He rarely spoke first and when he did it was about basic things. He didn't dress up elegantly and he never smelled like flowers or honey. He was a rough man, similar to the ones that served him, the ones back in Winterfell that Lyarra always wanted to avoid. But he was young and that could change. At least that's what Lyarra was hoping for.

His hands weren't as warm as Aegon's. His breath not as feiry, his touch not as tender. In theory - at least to Lyarra's knowing - Ronell Arryn had not done anything wrong and yet none of this was right. Maybe it was her soundless cries or the way she caressed her old dresses, reminded of her days in King's Landing and the nights she spent in Aegon's arms, but there was a shadow above their marriage and their lives - both of theirs - that even Ronell could no longer ignore. She didn't love him, that much he knew very well, but Lyarra never gave him the chance to love her as well.

The nights with him appeared endless, as his hands travelled around her body. The two of them had been trying to acquire an heir for a long time, but their efforts were fruitless, making the nights they spent together even more hopeless. The people around the Vale had started talking about the inability of their new Lady to give a child to their Lord, some of them claiming her northern blood was at fault.

And so when the Maester announced she was finally with child, six months after her arrival at the Eyre, the people could not believe it. The servants celebrated the arrival of their new - hopefully - little Lord, while Ronell had ordered for large feasts everywhere. When the Maester told him that night, Ronell Arryn had smiled widely. He had hugged her and thanked her. He had kissed her to her lips, for the first time after a long time as the words "Thank you, my Lady" escaped his lips. Lyarra had hopes that things would change, but only a week after that Ronell had ceased visiting their chamber, obviously seeking other kind of company, a more tender one, that Lyarra had never offered him.