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Liandrin is silent as she follows Rhaenys into the castle. She’s silent, slightly more nervous than usual, but she’s never been chosen like this, never been wanted. The castle is huge, threateningly cool to the touch but then Targaryens keep dragons. They have no need for a warm castle. She’s still silent as Rhaenys settles herself, drawing her down beside her. A small, almost teenage dragon approaches and she finds a smile raising itself to her lips at the way the dragon leans against her leg, seeming to almost purr approval up at Rhaenys.
Rhaenys smiles then, leaning to kiss Liandrin softly, feeling her shiver before she speaks. She’s knows, she has always known, how timid Liandrin is behind all her natural bravado. She keeps a good cover, but Rhaenys knows her truth, more than she’d like to.
“I think, my Lioness, that you may have been chosen.”
Liandrin smiles, risking petting the dragon’s head softly.
“Then I am very lucky.”