To the reviewer who asked me about the chapter titles: They are all English words and may be found in various dictionaries across the internet.

Rhaegar brushes her hair, gently dragging the comb through her dark tresses. Lyanna has long stopped wondering about his willingness to do this for her. It is somewhat strange, for his calloused hands have been made to hold swords and defeat enemies, and having him act with such gentleness is something she takes as a sign of affection. Not so much the brushing of her hair, as the fact that he spends time with her when he does not need to. Of course, this habit has been long in the making and fell easily into place at the appropriate moment; which really does not surprise Lyanna at all, as things do tend to work out even when there is little involvement from humans. It must mean that the gods have yet to tire of taking care of them all.

He treats her as if she were made of spun glass. Lyanna would laugh if she weren't enthralled by this. Why does he continue to shield her after so many years, when there is nothing more to be gained by it? There can be no doubt that her husband does cherish her. Her eyes focus on him in the mirror and she contemplated this man quietly. They have been married for more than a decade now, and there are times when she feels a scared little girl, half in love with the man. After so much time passed in his company, Lyanna is still surprised by the thrill he evokes when he so puts his mind to it. Perhaps in his own way Rhaegar is half in love with her too, or maybe he quite simply loves her and that is that. But it does please her nonetheless.

Lyanna does realise that this has been coming together one piece at a time. There is no sudden realisation or ardent confessions of love. This is not how it stands between them, and Lyanna is quite glad for it. After all, words without substance are useless when one seeks to find themselves into another, to see a reflection of their feelings mirroring across the face of their partner. It is rather like souls that bond together, having this particular inclination towards one another.

"I see you are distracted," Rhaegar voices, catching Lyanna by surprise. She looks up at his reflection, their eyes meeting in the mirror; their gazes hold close together. "May I ask what has taken you so far away?" He has not stopped brushing her hair even as he speaks.

"Just woolgathering," she replies. Ten years have left their mark on her, Lyanna thinks. "Have you seen the children?" Those little dragons have surely gotten into some mischief by now. "I hope they have been behaving at least moderately adequate."

And he smiles, because it is knows that their children aren't moderately anything. "If it please you." She smiles back at him through the looking glass. The comb is placed on the small table, and Lyanna brings herself to her feet. "If it please you, then they have."

Now Lyanna laughs. It is so easy to be herself around him who knows her inside out. "I have no doubt you are not telling me the truth." Alas there is nothing to be done. Children will be children, after all, and Lyanna is more than happy to tolerate their antics as long as they know there are times when they must behave. Which they do. "I should just throw you out of my room."

"You would not. You like my presence here." Yes, it cannot be denied that he knows her well enough. "Besides I do not plan on leaving anytime soon, my Lady."

Not that she would want him to anyway. "I see, well I shan't insist upon that then." She leans against the table, pulling just slightly away from him. He follows, as if drawn by a magnet. She smiles softly. "Are you not tired?"

"Tired?" He considers her words, eyes going misty. "I suppose I am tired." And so he should, Lyanna decides. Ruling is no easy thing, even if he does have some help of sorts from his siblings. She opens her arms in invitation. "I should like to rest in your arms."

It is not so much about the act of coupling as it is about companionship, Lyanna muses once they are together under the coverings. She holds him close to her, his breath tickling her exposed neck. She likes the way he fills her arms and how warm he feels against her. Her heart has settled into an easy rhythm as his arm stretches out over her. How many times had she told herself she would not fall in love with this man? Lyanna has lost count, there have been many times over the course of their marriage, certainly. And in the end, she has not fallen in love with him. It is nothing of that sort, but she does love him.

For her it has been a time strengthened love. It began as a sliver, small and frail, getting stronger and stronger with each kindness, and each year, and Lyanna simply cannot image her life being any different than it is now. And a small wonder it is, when one becomes so entwined with the other. Lyanna closes her eyes in her contentment. What it is to love and be loved in return.