A Song of Fire & Snow (GOT)(Jon Snow)

Chapter 40: Jon Snow

~A Night Unlike Any Before~

The Godswood was serene in the early morning light, a soft mist clinging to the ancient trees, their trunks twisted and gnarled with age. The heart tree, its bark white and smooth, stood at the center like a silent sentinel, watching over the ceremony that was about to take place. The red leaves of the weirwood rustled gently in the cool breeze, casting a crimson shadow across the sacred space. It was a peaceful, quiet place—a perfect contrast to the chaos that had defined Jon Snow's life up until now. Today, in this sacred grove, he would find peace. He would find love.

Jon stood tall beneath the heart tree, its red sap weeping like blood from the carved face in its trunk, a reflection of the ancient gods. He wore a simple cloak of black fur over dark leathers, the sigil of House Stark embroidered on his chest, and his hair was tied back loosely. His sword, Longclaw, hung at his hip—a reminder of the battles he had fought and the ones yet to come. But for today, the sword was not needed. For today, there would be no war, no death, only love and life.

Around him, the Godswood was filled with familiar faces. Sansa stood to his left, regal in a gown of deep forest green, her hair intricately braided and crowned with a circlet of silver leaves. She looked every bit the Lady of Winterfell, her soft smile one of pride and joy. Arya was beside her, clad in a simple tunic and trousers, her Stark blood refusing to be dressed up in finery. She wore her Needle at her side, her eyes gleaming with mischief as always. Bran sat in his chair nearby, his expression calm and knowing, as if he could see every moment that had led them to this one and every moment that would follow.

Across from him stood Oberyn Martell, Alarys' brother, dressed in the rich, flowing silks of Dorne. His attire was a sharp contrast to the muted colors of the North, a deep amber robe that caught the light with every movement. His smile was wide and infectious, his joy at seeing his sister marry evident in every glance he cast her way.

And then there was Alarys.

Jon's breath caught in his throat as she appeared at the edge of the clearing, stepping gracefully through the mist. She was radiant. She wore a gown of pale gold, the fabric light and flowing, catching the soft rays of sunlight that filtered through the trees. er dark hair was loose, cascading down her back in waves, adorned with a simple crown of woven flowers and leaves. She looked like something out of a dream—otherworldly, powerful, yet soft and full of life.

Their eyes met across the Godswood, and in that moment, everything else fell away. Jon had never been one for grand ceremonies or displays of affection, but this—this felt right. Alarys was his fire, his warmth in the cold world he had known for so long. And today, surrounded by the people they loved, they would be bound together forever.

As she reached him beneath the heart tree, her hand found his, their fingers entwining naturally, as if they had been made for each other. The ceremony was simple, in the way that all ceremonies to the Old Gods were. There were no priests, no grand declarations. The weirwood stood as their witness, the eyes of the gods carved into its bark watching over them as Jon and Alarys exchanged their vows in quiet whispers, meant only for each other.

"I am yours," Jon said softly, his voice rough with emotion, "now and always."

"And I am yours," Alarys replied, her eyes shining with unshed tears, "forever."

A breeze stirred the leaves of the weirwood, as if the Old Gods themselves were giving their blessing. They sealed their vows with a kiss, soft and lingering, and as they pulled apart, the world around them seemed to brighten, the mist lifting slightly as the sun broke through the clouds.

The small gathering cheered—Oberyn's laughter loud and joyful, Arya's grin wide as she clapped her hands, and even Bran's knowing smile held a hint of warmth. Sansa's eyes glistened with tears as she approached them, hugging Jon tightly, before turning to Alarys and taking her hands.