They were wed under the weirwood because neither half of the couple felt comfortable being married in a sept. Sansa because the place reminded her of her time in King's Landing, Trevyr because of the vows he broke. All Arya knew going into the day was that she was woken at sunrise and told to wear a dress. Rickon was told ahead of time, because he still did not like weddings.
"You and Arya will be our only guests." Sansa explained. He shook his head.
"I am sorry, Sansa, but I cannot go. Ever since Mother and Robb's murder, marriages are nothing but a source of fear for me. I will stay in the crypts until it is done. The gods watched over me there. I wish you both the best."
She accepted his refusal with grace, as Arya too had shared his fear. But it was just the three of them gathered as the sun gently shone into the godswood.
Sansa's hair had been quickly braided into a simple plait and adorned with a circlet of silver. The bride was also clothed in a silk gown the color of freshly fallen snow. This was no ornate southron garment, but rather trimmed with lace made by northern women. Trevyr had put on his Queensguard finest, as he had no other clothing for the occasion. Arya was attired in a gown of grey, as she pointed out that she was representing the bride's family and the North. It was an uneventful wedding, and that was all any of the Starks could have asked for.
After the happy couple had been wed, Arya remembered a very important job to do.
"So, which one of you will let the North and the rest of Westeros know?"
Sansa looked at her husband with a smile.
"They will find out soon enough."