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Once in a week, after they both wake up, presuming that Jon is still asleep, Lyanna will take the time to shave Arthur’s face. It’s just something they do.
There are many stereotypes about Dorne people assumes being real -but there is one Arthur shamefully follows: his meticulous care of his appearance. No vanity, but the respect of a few rules: regular baths, regular haircuts, and the shaving of facial hair.
Arthur will always wake up before Lyanna and little Jon, and as quietly as he can, get everything ready to shave his face. After he’s got the soap on and a fresh bowl of water –if he can find some– Lyanna always sneaks behind him and lightly blows on the back of his neck, surprising him no matter how many times she does it. Then he’ll fall on his knees for he is way taller than her and she’ll give an indigent little huff (because she’s a woman now, an adult and he doesn’t need to lower himself for her) and she’ll gesture for him to hand her the straight razor he is holding.
They’ve been doing this for about five or six monthes now. During their exile many luxuries were forgotten and ignored, and owning a mirror was one of these options they couldn’t afford with their itinerant life. The first time he asked her to shave his face for him, his beard was long, dark and scruffy. She simply replied ‘Finally, you ask me!’.
Every time Lyanna presses the blade to his face, his breath catches a little. She’s amazingly good at it now, the blade ghosting across his face, removing stubble and soap as she goes. His eyes are closed. Always closed. It’s almost frighting how relaxed Arthur feels with a sharp object so close to his neck. It goes against all his intincts and the lessons he had learned during years. Do not let a blade held by someone else approch you.
But he trusts Lyanna with his life.
Almost entirely too soon, she’s done and he leans over the bowl of water to wash off the excess foam. Lyanna watches him with a smile and then gives him that mischievous grin that he finds so charming. “Good morrow, Arthur.”
And he’ll reply, “Good morrow, my Lady.”
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