Northern Conqueror

Chapter 41: Snow Path

Chapter 41: Snow Path

"Who'd have thought the next time we were in front of one it'd be to break your vows twice over?" Sam asked with a laugh as he and Jon stood before the heart tree in Winterfell's godswood.

Jon nodded, adjusting the clothing Sansa had prepared for him. He felt ridiculous wearing a black doublet with slashes of red satin under a dark gray jerkin with white embroidery along the edges. He'd been dreading the idea of wearing two cloaks, but they'd opted to skip a cloak ceremony, leaving him in a black one with a crimson inlet. Though no longer a bastard, it felt fitting his wedding would be a bastard born of the Seven and the Old Gods.

"I feel like a jester," he sighed.

"You need to look the part," Sam told him, brushing snow from Jon's shoulder. "This will be something people speak of for generations."

With a relenting nod, Jon looked to Sam with a grin. "How angry would they be if they saw me in my training gear?"

Sam chuckled. "If you get us through this you could spend the rest of your reign as the nude king and I doubt anyone would say a word."

In the lord's room Sansa turned to the others after looking over her white gown with gray embroidery. She'd come to know Jon preferred her hair down, so brushed it as straight as she could before braiding the sides back to keep it from her face.

"You look pretty," Rickon said with an assuring nod.

"You sure about this?" Arya asked, her arms crossed as she looked her sister over.

Sansa nodded. "Even if Father or Robb were alive I'd have considered asking you. Who would know better if I'm worthy of him than his sister?"

In the great hall Daenerys adjusted her own gown. She'd thought to wear an Essosi dress but they'd known it would be too cold, and now that it was snowing again she was thankful. She'd relented on having a mostly white dress, though it still had black and red across the chest and folds of her skirt.

"You don't need to do this," she said with a sympathetic smile. "I don't want to be cruel."

"No man could be more worthy of you, your grace," Jorah said solemnly. "I give you gladly."

Daenerys took his hands. "Thank you, Ser Jorah."

Lanterns carved a path toward the heart tree after the sun set, guiding the quartet to where the lords and ladies gathered in Winterfell stood watching them, yet both brides barely cast them a glance as their eyes found Jon. He greeted them with a smile, warming them even as flecks of snow gently swirled and fell around them.

While Sam stood off to Jon's side on the other, before the heart tree, stood a septon and Bran in his chair. "Who comes before the Old Gods?" asked Bran, looking to Daenerys and Sansa.

The four exchanged a brief look before Jorah spoke. "Daenerys of House Targaryen comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the gods."

Arya then spoke. "Sansa of House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the gods."

Bran glanced at Jon. "Who comes to claim them?"

"Aegon of House Targaryen and Stark, King of Westeros." Jon looked to them both before asking, "Who gives them?"

"Jorah of House Mormont," he said pridefully, "sworn sword to Daenerys Targaryen."

"Arya of House Stark," she said with a nod, "sister to Sansa Stark."

At that the septon stepped forward, ushering the women to approach. They moved to either side of Jon, who turned to face the septon with them. Jon's left hand held Daenerys' while his right took Sansa's left, the women then entwined their open hands together as the septon began binding each pair in a strip of silken cloth while speaking.