Chapter 7
As Alice Baratheon had so uncannily predicted, the day of the wedding dawned unusually bright, painting the walls of King's Landing gold with optimistic late-summer sunshine.
The sunlight bathed the rooms of the palace in a glow reminiscent of a dream or, for some, a nightmare. For what was to come that day would be an important turning point for the future (…or lack thereof) of Westeros.
Watching this beautiful sunrise, was Jasper.
As was his custom, he would rise early to gaze upon the city at it's best - before it filled with people. Today his gaze was fixed upon the horizon where brilliant white slithers told of the waves bound for Essos.
It was said that somewhere across that Narrow Sea, a Targaryan prepared to march upon the continent to claim it as her own. But when Jasper was wedded and he inherited the throne, would a Targaryn not already sit on the Iron Throne?
Jasper sighed, feeling again the tug of loneliness he often pretended to revel in.
"Why the sigh, my brother?" came Carlisle's voice, before Jasper found himself meeting the piercing sapphire gaze of his dearest friend.
"Why not?" Jasper replied briskly as he leant over the battlements, running his hand through his straggly hair. "You know how the summer heat disagrees with me."
Carlisle smiled and took his place next to his brother.
"Or do you disagree with it?" he asked, sensing this to be the more likely explanation.
"It is not the weather that I disagree with today," said Jasper coldly enough to oppose the spreading of warmth over the capital.
"Because tomorrow we shall be married men," finished Carlisle thoughtfully, examining his palms as if to weigh the idea.
"…And in so many years we will be dead men," came a voice, accompanying the strides of Emmett Stark.
"My Lords," he added, remembering his manners.
Carlisle turned with a smile, arms wide.
"My brother," he said. "I hope our conversation did not prove too cheerful for your Northern temperament."
Emmett grinned.
"No," he said. "I'm in a good mood today."
"Good for you," replied Jasper tartly.
"We were just discussing our plans for the day," Carlisle explained courteously.
Emmett guffawed with laughter, obviously over-excited by the heat and the prospect of Rosalie.
He elbowed Carlisle quite hard in a friendly way.
"Discussing your plans for the night more like, eh?" Emmett snorted as Jasper turned to look at him incredulously.
"Have you seen my bride?" Jasper asked the giant.
The smile slid from Emmett's face under the fire of the man's gaze.
"Only from above," he answered truthfully. "She isn't very big, is she?"
Jasper looked at the Northern lord in disbelief. His utter disregard for tact actually made it hard to hate him.
Jasper shook his head sadly, but found an inexplicable grin spread across his vulpine face. Emmett's good humour was catching.
"And, er, Jasper, if I may call you that?" said Emmett quietly, as the future ruler nodded his ascent.
Yes, he may indeed.
"Thank you for letting me win the joust."
Carlisle looked up guiltily.
"Please, Lord Stark," he began, gold hair glinting like the halo he was trying to put back on his head. We were not trying to-"
"Anything to get rid of my sister," muttered Jasper.
All three of them laughed at the dryness of his tone, releasing the tension a little. Jasper could have that effect when he tried.
"Yeah…" said Emmett fondly. "Though I'll have to buy her some warm clothes, I'll admit that I was concerned when I saw how-"
"Shit!" swore Carlisle as he remembered why he had come waking that way in the first place.
"Language!" chuckled Emmett, thanking the gods that his new brother wasn't really as uptight as people threatened.
But Carlisle hadn't heard him as he had already dashed down the passageway.
"What?" asked Emmett. "Did he leave his bread in the oven?"
Jasper grimaced.
"No, he wanted to give Lady Tyrell an early wedding present."
-x-
Esme's grandmother came to her room as she was being dressed for the wedding to give her a talk.
This was the talk in which she re-iterated the role that Esme was to play. She would seduce Carlisle, produce a son, and feed back to the Tyrells any juicy information that Carlisle offered her, while keeping the affairs of the Tyrell family a secret. The seduction and production of the son part of the plan was described in great detail and Esme felt her handmaiden, Angela, brushing her hair increasingly gently in sympathy.
"Don't worry," Angela whispered when Lady Tyrell had swept from the room, finally satisfied with her produce. "It will be just fine. I hear Lord Carlisle is very fond of you."
"Well he has to be!" said Esme slightly frantically. "Otherwise what do I do? I can't seduce him! He's too…It wouldn't work. He'd just think I was silly."
Angela continued to braid.
"And," panted Esme. "What if he decides…or Lord Tywin decides, at the last minute that Carlisle should marry Alice Baratheon or Bella Stark instead and I have to marry-"
She dropped her voice to a whisper.
"Jasper Lannister!"
She jumped guiltily as there was a knock on the door. Perhaps they'd heard? Perhaps she'd be executed?
"Esme?" came the muffled and rather pompous voice. "It's Edward. May I come in?"
"Yes!" Esme said loudly, but with a quaver.
Edward appeared looking dashing in his wedding tabard. And suitably so for all the fuss the union had caused. He was also carrying a package under his arm.
"For you," he said, presenting the bundle to his sister. "From Carlisle."
He smirked, though rather nervously as he exited the room to dread his own receipt of a spouse.
Esme undid the fabric wrappings to find a selection of warm underclothes.
In case of cold feet, the accompanying note read in Carlisle's neat hand. Or anything else for that matter.
Esme was very touched. And the proportion of happy couples rose to an impressive fifty-percent as the hour of the wedding drew closer.
"Oh how sweet!" beamed Esme. "He remembered!"
Next door in Rosalie Lannister's chamber, a very different conversation was talking place between handmaiden and mistress.
"And I need to have the nicest hair," Rosalie said urgently but with her classic, and faintly exaggerated tone of boredom. "Because Lady of Winterfell needs the nicest hair. Otherwise people will talk."
Yes, she wasn't going to be queen, and yes, she had to live in the North of all places, but Rosalie couldn't deny the sense of having the most beautiful girl in the kingdom marry the bravest and most handsome man in the kingdom. The logic was sound.
"Plus most of the riffraff will only get to see me once in their lives, so we owe it to them to make sure they remember it. Even if they are unintelligent."
Rosalie raised an eyebrow experimentally at her reflection.
"And also," she continued. "I want my bodice tight so that Emmett can enjoy my slim waist before I fall pregnant, which should be soon."
She sighed in a satisfied way.
"We're aiming for between five and ten children," she said.
Obviously this would happen.
"And I want at least some girls so that my looks don't get lost."
"Yes, I'm sure my lady," Jessica replied, lacing said bodice to meet Rosalie's exact instruction.
She was very, very used to conversations like these, and by this point rather skilled at keeping the note of sarcasm out of her voice.
And it was with the daring and rudeness, which was considered impropriety for one of her standing, that Jessica secretly wished that Rosalie would have a very cold time at Winterfell when she departed shortly as Lady Stark.
And so she would. Winter was coming.
Little Alice was actually very excited to marry Jasper. She must be mad, thought…well just about everyone. Or maybe she was just young, exaggerated by her size - she was minuscule for the average thirteen-year-old even though she had been raised on all the food she could want.
And really, that was why the streets were lined with people on the way to the chapel. To see the grisly spectacle of their beloved little princess being given away to the Targ- Lannister monster. Along with the first half-decent-looking Stark girl in a century marrying the dandy Tyrell. That made people laugh, along with the fact that the Dornish had been scorned to allow this reluctant partnership.
Carlisle Lannister was very popular. Owing to his kindness, fairness and good sense, the citizens of King's landing were able to take to the streets with full bellies and they wished him the best with his Esme Tyrell who had been helping the poor in the city. And, again, Tyrells meant food. They were always welcome.
The last couple was of the least public interest in the South, because it involved the North (which may well have been the moon for as much as the good folk of King's Landing cared) but Emmett Stark was good fun and jousted like a god. And, yes, watching the beautiful Rosalie Lannister, with the nicest hair, did complete the spectacle nicely.
The ceremony commenced in the opulent chapel, the sight of which almost drew the crowd's attention from Rosalie who had the astounding ability to toss her hair and look regal at the same time. Emmett loved it.
And then they were married. The couples recited their vows in turn and then the husbands cloaked their wives symbolically to welcome them to their families.
Esme's cloak was red with the golden Lannister lion emblazoned on it. Carlisle gently swept the curls from her shoulders to cloak her with the garment that seemed unnecessarily heavy.
Double-lined velvet. Insulating.
Esme tuned and grinned at Carlisle who grinned back, enjoying their joke. Esme felt a strange stab of elation to know that nobody else in the room would have understood the significance of the gesture.
The said gesture was watched very, very eagerly by Olenna Tyrell, who in a moment of enthusiasm, showed her unbridled greed on her wrinkled face. Next to her, Lord Lannister was also gazing with a similar expression. Let there be many, many little Lannister grandchildren to expand his empire.
Next, Isabella Stark reluctantly neglected to break Edward's nose as he draped her in pale-violet. The cloak was silky and frankly a ridiculous reminder that Isabella would be living in the filthy South from now on. She shifted awkwardly away from her supposed true-love to admire the hideousness of the pastel outfit she now wore. She doubted you could find a more repulsive colour in someone's vomit.
Her father thought so too, as the frown etched into his face deepened. He hated what he had to do to Isabella.
His son, however, looked almost too happy as he bounded forwards to cloak Rosalie Lannister in Stark grey. It was in this moment that Emmett appreciated Esme Tyrell's shy input (via Carlisle) that Rosalie may feel silver to be appropriate for the situation. She smiled gratefully as she rippled like the moonlit ocean.
And then the royals.
The other couples stepped backwards in respect as Jasper engulfed tiny Alice in a golden cloak stamped with the crowned black stag of the Baratheons, a family he would have to join to inherit the throne. He stared defiantly at his audience, as if he somehow sensed their judgement upon him.
There was rapturous applause, enough so as to mask the mutters of discontent that swam around the room. Something was very, very wrong here.
Despite this, the couples, (with varying degrees of delirious happiness), strode noble-arm-in-noble-arm from the chapel to enjoy the rest of the festivities while the bells tolled, the universal gongs of change.
The feast that came next was accompanied by all manner of entertainment though throughout, the tension was heavy at the nobles' dinner table. The couples were expected to retire to bed soon and all glanced edgily around the room to see who would be first, or second, actually. It was damn obvious who would be first.
"Here's to a son!" Emmett crowed to the delight of the guests as he tossed Rosalie enthusiastically into his arms. "Or a daughter! I don't care! We can have all the children we could want!"
The crowd cheered as the jousting champion spun his prize around for all to see while she squealed in delight.
"Not going North," laughed Carlisle to his father.
"Not going North," echoed Tywyn, with a smile.
Difficult daughter married off successfully. Good.
Emmett carried Rosalie effortlessly from the room to whistles of delight while she shook out her golden hair artistically to leave it tumbling down her back. Isabella tutted angrily while Alice twittered with excitement. Wasn't she just so pretty?
She began to clap her little hands manically and since the princess was clapping, so clapped the rest of the room. Rosalie beamed until she was out of sight.
After they had gone, the crowd turned expectantly.
"Well," muttered Tywin to Carlisle. "I think it had better be you next."
"Right," sighed Carlisle tightly as he and Esme prepared themselves for the barbaric and embarrassing bedding ceremony.
Carlisle's insistence that this should not be included as part of their marriage had been cheerfully ignored by his elders who wanted to see that they did in fact go to bed and that the Lannister heir didn't slope off to his library instead.
"Here goes, Esme!" Carlisle said tautly as he took her hand.
The crowd cheered as the handsome Lannister diplomatically steered his mortified wife through the room along the shortest route to his- their bedchamber.
"Not that she needs leading," smirked Bella Tyrell to Edward, in an attempt to anger him.
That was his sister after all.
He barely looked at her and roughly grabbed her arm to lead her through the throng of people after Esme and Carlisle.
"Daughters, daughter, daughters," chanted Tywin Lannister infuriatingly, with a warning expression as they passed him.
Edward shot him a seething look.
The crowd watched in amusement as the fiery Stark brushed the flouncy Tyrell boy's arm away and stalked to their so-called bed-chamber. They doubted that Tyrell could lift Isabella Stark into his arms, even if she were willing.
And then finally. The royal couple.
The mothers in the audience could barely watch as the savage heir to the throne lifted his tiny bride into his arms like a baby bird.
"Westeros," he said, addressing most of all the king, Alice's father. "I give you my wife. The perfect Alice."
There was polite applause as Westeros took a good long, and possibly final, look at their dainty princess.
Jasper gave a nod and with that left the room, carrying little Alice to her end.
