Tyrianne gave Aemond a tight little smile and mouthed a 'thank you' as he fixed the crown on her head. It was such a kind gesture that cut right through the stressed tightness in her chest and if she dwelled more on it, she might just cry. It was that moment she realised that mayhaps this whole thing was more real and more heavy on her than she had expected.
Yes, she had known, logically, that her life was about to change significantly, but the reality was suddenly sinking into her bones - a jarring feeling of clarity. Most of this ceremony, she considered almost heathen, the exchange of blood an almost grotesque idea to her Westerosi sensibilities, but as they were going through the ritual, she had to recognize the intimacy of it. In many ways, it felt like she played a more active part in binding herself to him, than she would in the Sept. Their hands were conjoined now. With shaking hands she accepted the dagger from him and delicately pressed the sharp knife into his lip. As she did so, she tightened her grip around his hand, hoping it came across as a comforting gesture. Luckily it took little more to draw blood.
As he cut her lip she held his gaze, trying to ignore the sting of the cut. All things considered, she could count herself lucky. He was respectful and comely. Things that she seldom sensed from husbands at weddings.
