This is not a smut
Jon
It was nearly time for the greatest moment of his life. Jon wrestled with the collar of the suit Sansa had made for him in his solar. He felt utterly ridiculous in it. But he did have to credit where it was due, the suit itself looked wonderful. Everything about it reflected something about him. The main color was black and covered in a feather like pattern, representing his service in the Night's Watch. Over his left breast was a white Stark direwolf stitched in the tunic and on his right, was the Targaryen dragon. On each side of the neck of his collar were two dragons. One white and one blue.
The last thing he needed to put on were his gloves and before he did, Sam entered the room, eyeing at Jon's attire. "You look fantastic," he commented. He only had his steward's uniform and Night's Watch cloak available.
"It itches more than I thought it would."
"It can't be that bad. You only have to wear it for tonight."
"Thank the gods for that." Jon slipped on his gloves and tied his hair back in a knot.
"Are you nervous?" Sam finally asked.
"No, I'm not nervous. I was nervous when I joined the Night's Watch, I was nervous when we fought at Castle Black, I was nervous when the dragons hatched, but this, I'm completely terrified."
"Love tends to do that to people from what I've noticed. You do love her, don't you?"
"More than anything."
"Then what are you terrified about? Just take it one day at a time."
Jon snickered at Sam's advice. "Samwell Tarly, where would have I gotten in this world without you?"
"Save the flattery for your intended." Jon could see Sam trying to hide something behind his mask of positivity.
"Sam," Jon said, dropping his optimistic tone, "Daenerys told me yesterday she spoke with you."
Sam dropped his smile, failing to keep it up. "She did."
"Sam… I'm sorry for what happened to your father."
"I'm not mad at her." Sam stated, confusing Jon. "My father was always an ass. Threatening to leave me to die or go the Watch was the last real mercy he ever showed to me. I don't give a damn that he burned. It's my brother I'm mad at." Sam began to look distressed. "Why did he have to share our father's pride? He still had his life in front of him, and he threw it all away."
Jon wasn't expecting Sam's anger to be at the victims of the execution. But he understood how he felt. When he learned of Robb's decisions in the War of the Five Kings and how he broke his vows to the Freys, he couldn't help but call him a fool. "Then be the one to prove them wrong. Show them, wherever they're watching, that you're better than them."
Sam's spirits were lifted, growing his smile back. "Jon Snow, where would I have gotten in this world without you?" They both chuckled together as Jon grabbed his cloak that bore the Stark sigil and put it around his shoulders. Even though he was going to take the name Targaryen, Daenerys said that she would be joining the family of Stark and wanted that to be recognized. It was time.
"Are you ready?" Sam asked, anxious to get to the Godswood.
"As I'll ever be." They both walked out of Jon's room together and through the hallways of Winterfell. When they reached outside, they were greeted by a beautiful snowfall. Though the moon was covered and the clouds above were thick, the light of the lit torches reflected their light off the snow, giving a warm feel to the surroundings.
They passed many of the guards and residents, all of them reflecting joyful feelings, as the approached the entrance to the Godswood. When they entered, they were greeted by every one of the Northern Lords and Ladies, Daenerys's company, and even Tormund and a few Free Folk came down for the wedding.
"I thought you said Northern weddings were fairly small gatherings." Sam stated.
"Usually they are," Jon told him as they walked through the aisle of lanterns to the weirwood. Rickon stood in front of the tree as he would be the one to conduct the wedding being the rightful Lord of Winterfell. He looked more nervous than Jon felt. Bran was offered to perform the ceremony, but he refused saying he had something he had to do. But for all Jon could see, Bran was sitting right next to the weirwood.
Jon took his place on one side of the aisle as Sam left him and stood next to Tormund who was off to the side along with Davos, Sansa, and Arya. They couldn't contain their joy and their smiles at him, though Sansa looked more proud of her needlework than she was of her brother. Jon looked at Rickon who was still nervous, but he showed Jon some absurdity with what could pass as a smile.
Jon was starting to feel anxious, but that ended when his eye's fell upon the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.
Daenerys
Her hands were shaking. Not only from the cold, but from the fear. Missandei had just left after helping her into her wedding dress. It was the warmest dress she'd ever worn, but it also the most beautiful. Sansa stark worked wonders with a needle. The white was the same as the snow and laced into the sleeves were many dragons, dancing with each other. The cloak she wore was rather simple compared to the dress. It was a basic black with the Targaryen dragon. She sat down in a chair in her chambers, debating if this really was the best thing to do. She can't have children, yet she wanted to spend all of her life with Jon.
As she kept on thinking, there was a knock on her door. She stood up, assuming a regal posture. "Who is it?" She asked.
"It's me, your grace," Ser Jorah replied.
"Come in." The door opened and Ser Jorah walked in, clad in Northern clothes. His cloak had a Bear pelt over resting on his shoulders and on the straps, was a pin resembling the Mormont bear sigil. "You're cousin allowed you to dress as a Mormont?" Daenerys asked, amazed. From what she'd seen of young Lyanna Mormont, the Lady of Bear Island was not to be trifled with and she also had a temper towards Jorah."
"Just for tonight, your grace. She said that tonight was for someone else and I would be allowed to be what I once was."
Daenerys smiled at him, happy to know that the fierce lady also knew compassion. "I'm not sure I can go through with this."
"Your grace, what is troubling you?"
"If Jon and I do win the wars to come, and we do rule Westeros to the end of our days, what then? You know I can't have children. Am I to chained Jon to my curse as well? After we die, the Targaryens will truly be gone."
"May I speak freely, your grace."
"Of course."
"If I were you, I would say to hell with the future. Just keep your mind on tonight. Do something for yourself for once and enjoy every moment of what tonight has to offer, because right now it doesn't matter if you can't have children or if you're the last Targaryen. What matters is what you want." He offered his hand out to her. She was hesitant, but she grabbed hold of it and proceed to wrap her arm around Jorah's. He smiled at her and began to lead her out of her room.
The entire walk to the Godswood was nerve-racking. Daenerys did want this to happen, but how long would this joy last was what couldn't escape her mind. But it all changed once she entered the Godswood and saw what was before here. Lanterns had been lit and lined up forming a path to the weirwood tree. Every lord and lady of the North she'd seen so far was there, watching her walk with Ser Jorah. Daenerys recalled Jon telling her that Northern weddings were small gatherings, and this was not small. Her attention finally turned to Jon standing next to his brother Rickon on his right at the weirwood. Behind him he could see his other brother, Bran, placing hand on the tree and continuing to watch them. Missandei, Tyrion, and Varys. The worry that encased her shattered as Jorah stopped in front of the Lord of Winterfell.
The was a second of silence before the ceremony began. "Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Rickon said to all who could hear.
Ser Jorah released Daenerys and stepped forward. "Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"
Jon stepped up to face Daenerys, his eyes never leaving her and entrancing to look at. 'You must look in his eyes always, love comes in at the eyes.'
"Jon Snow, of House Stark and House Targaryen, The King in North and Lord of the Dreadfort. Who gives her?"
"Jorah, of House Mormont, who is her Queensguard."
The young Lord Rickon seemed to be calm finally as he continued. "Queen Daenerys, do you take this man?"
She was lost in the essence of Jon's eyes for what felt like an eternity. "I take this man." Jon and Daenerys took each other's hand and they turned to the weirwood and knelt down before it. She was told that this is when a silent prayer would be given, but she was never a firm believer in any faith, since Jon asked her, she would give a short one. 'I just want us to be happy.' When they rose up, Jon walked behind her and removed her Targaryen cloak and proceeded to remove his Stark cloak. He wrapped his around her, completing the ceremony and the union between them. She decided to listen to Jorah and think of what she wanted tonight. When he stood back in front of her, she couldn't help but lean up to kiss him right in front of everyone. This kiss wasn't like their first one, it was less desperate to continue, but more desirable. When they parted, they both smiled at each other and faced to onlookers. All that mattered to her at that moment was the one who stood next to her.
Jon
The Great Hall was bursting with noise. Northern music was playing and sounds of conversations and laugher filled the room. Delicious foods were served and the company of friends made it taste all the better. Jon sat with Daenerys at the High Table, feasting with their family and enjoying every bit of the night. Something that amused Jon was he gaze constantly finding Tormund, attempting to woo Brienne of Tarth. Tyrion was sitting with Missandei and Davos, either making wise remarks or telling jokes given how much they were laughing. Daenerys at one pointed inquired about Brienne's squire who was surrounded many young ladies, looking terrified.
The hall quieted down as Gendry had entered the room, two men following him carrying objects covered in clothe, one of them was distinctively a box. The man who carried the box approached Tyrion and Davos, whispering something to them. They both stood up from their seats and followed the man to the foot of the High Table next to Gendry.
Up close, Jon noticed all of the soot and ash Gendry was covered in. He had been spending almost all of his time in the forge. Ever since Daenerys was able to get blood from Drogon, he had been set on making Valyrian Steel. "My King, my Queen," Gendry said, bowing his head, "After two days without sleep, and many hours in the hottest forge I've ever been in, I'd like to show you the result of my works." Gendry nodded to one of the men who unveiled his object, revealing it to be Rickon's Sword. "As to your request," he said to Jon, "I used the steel of the shattered blade as my material, and I've got to say, I've never made anything like it."
Jon stood up, looking to Rickon who was wide eyed. "The Valyrian sword of House Stark, Ice, was reforged into two swords by Tywin Lannister. I think it's time for a new sword to take its place." Jon nodded to Rickon who got up from his seat as quick as he could. The man who carried the sword held the hilt towards Rickon. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and freed the sword from its scabbard. The metal singed as the blade was revealed. The fuller contained the same rippled stars as Longclaw, but the sword itself was a slightly darker tint. "A new sword, deserves a new name!" Jon declared. "So what will the Lord of Winterfell call his blade?"
Rickon kept ogling the sword. He was finally able to hold it with one arm and swing it easily. Rickon looked at Jon smiling. "Snow! Ice can be melted, but nothing can stop the Snow of winter."
Jon liked it. It was simple like Ice, but had a certain tenacity to the name. Everyone raised their glasses up, cheering for the name. "SNOW!" Rickon took the scabbard and sheathed the sword, taking it with him as he sat back down at the table. Gendry stepped down from the foot of the High Table and Tyrion and Davos took his place. "Your Majesties," Davos said, "if you wouldn't mind." He gestured for Jon and Daenerys to join him and Tyrion in front of the table. They complied and stood up, Jon escorting Daenerys with him. Tyrion and Davos let them take their places where they stood as they faced everyone in the Great Hall. The other man who came with Gendry unveiled his box, revealing it to be a simple chest. Davos and Tyrion stood in front of it as it was opened, obstructing Jon and Daenerys's view of its contents. The heard the box close as the two advisors turned around, each of them holding a crown. The crown in Tyrion's hands was made of silver. It had a simple shape to it, but it was beautiful none the less. It had five rubies planted in the metal and the one in the center was the largest. It was polished smooth and behind it, the Targaryen dragon could be seen.
Tyrion stepped for ward to Daenerys, smiling at her and she stooped down to him. He held the crown above her head and spoke his words in a strong, proud voice. "I proclaim Daenerys of House Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms." Tyrion placed the crown upon her head and she rose back up, majestic and proud.
Tyrion stepped back as Davos stepped forward to Jon. The Crown he had caught Jon off guard. He expected it be themed after Targaryen or Stark. Instead, the crown was made of steel and in the center of it was the sigil Rickon and Sansa made for him. He couldn't help but smirk when he saw it. The crown was raised above his head, and Davos spoke to all. "I proclaim Jon of House Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms." Davos placed the crown on Jon's heading, looking proud at him the whole time. He stepped back and let the Lords of the North behold their King and Queen. "Long may they reign!"
"Long may they reign!" Everyone repeated, raising their glasses up high. Jon took Daenerys's hand and they raised them in the air, accepting their victory.
As the feast continued on, Jon remained at the High Table, but Daenerys mingled with everyone. Tormund took notice to this and approached his friend. "You look bored for a man who just got married and made a king."
"I have a lot on my mind." Jon told him.
"And your woman isn't? For fuck's sake Jon, you southerners really are dull." He turned his gaze to Daenerys and then back to Jon. "If you don't go down to her now, I might just steal her from you." Jon wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but regardless, he got up from his seat and walked into the mass of people. "Remember crow," Tormund called out, "like baby seals!"
Jon looked back at Tormund, embarrassed. He turned his gaze back to Daenerys, flustered at the memory of Tormund humping at a bag making sounds like a dog. He stood behind his wife and placed his hand on her shoulder, gaining her attention. Without even having to say anything, she stood up and leaned next to his head.
"Let's retire for the night," she whispered. Danerys took Jon's hand and they both made their way to the exit of the Great Hall, hoping to avoid being noticed.
It proved to be futile as Arya called out to them. "Your majesties! Where are you two off to at this hour?" Jon had never heard her talk the way she was. He glanced over to her and saw she had a large mug rather than a cup.
"Have you been drinking?" Jon asked.
Arya laughed before he put the rim of her mug to her lips and began to gulp down its contents. She didn't stop until the whole thing was gone. When the mug emptied, she slammed it on the table and looked right at him. "Not very much." They gained some laughter from nearby onlookers and from Jon as well.
"Daenerys and I are retiring for the night."
"Have fun you two!" She refilled her mug to the brim and joined a Wilding drinking. It was at that moment that Jon vowed to never let Arya get drunk ever again.
They finally escaped the Great Hall and made their way to Jon's Chambers. When they opened the door, they were both surprised at the view. The hearth was lit and a larger bed replaced Jon's previous one. "When did?" Jon couldn't finish his sentence as he took in the sight. On his table were neatly made garments for Daenerys and a pitcher of Arbor Gold. On a separate smaller table were two black silk pillows, meant for the crowns when they weren't worn. "This had to have been Sansa's doing."
"It's wonderful." Daenerys said as she removed her crown and placed it on one of the pillows. Jon did the same and found Daenerys gazing into the fires of the hearth. The light of the fire dance in the silver of her hair. "I wish you wouldn't leave. I don't want to wait for you to come back." Before Jon could say anything to counter her, she placed her index finger on his lips. "But until then, you're all mine and no one else's." She removed her finger and undid her cloak, letting it fall to the floor.
"As my queen commands." Jon grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her to his body, trapping her with a kiss. Daenerys's hands grabbed the ends of Jon's tunic and began to pull it off of his chest while he began to work at the laces of her dress. "We should probably get to the bed."
"Yes, we should." Daenerys began to guide them to the bed and she pushed Jon onto it, falling on top of him. Jon just stared at her for moment, admiring everything about her. He was hers and she was his. He pulled her into another kiss right before he finished his fight with the laces.
'Like baby seals,' Jon mentally reminded himself.
Daenerys
The light of morning blinded Daenerys for a moment as her eyes focused as she began to wake up. 'Damn,' she thought. Why couldn't the night last forever? The heat of the furs covering her was nothing compared to the heat of who lay next with her. Her arm was across Jon's chest and his was around her. She could feel the scars of the knives, still not able to fully believe what happened to him.
"Morning," he said. His voice was especially gruff in the mornings, sounding thicker with his Northern accent. "Did you sleep well?"
"Considering how long we were at it, I hardly slept at all," she jested. Her mood died down when she remembered that a night like not wouldn't happen for a long time after today. "When do you leave?"
"As soon as everyone's ready." Jon told her.
Daenerys turned her head and gazed at him. "Jon, please don't go."
"I have to Daenerys."
"No, you don't. You're just trying to be a hero. Heroes do stupid things."
"Care to name a few of these heroes?"
Daenerys was hesitant, realizing the corner she just backed herself into. "My first husband Drogo, a lover I had in Mereen named Daario, even Jorah, and now you. You all seem to try and outdo each other on who can do the stupidest, bravest thing."
"That's funny," Jon told her, "from the sounds of it, all the men you just were men who fell in love with you. From what I've learned, love makes you do stupid things."
Daenerys slapped Jon on his chest. "If you know it's stupid, then why are you doing it?"
Jon gave a long sigh before answering. "Because it's the only thing I can think of that will work. I can't explain why, but I just know that if I don't do this, another piece of me will disappear. It's like I have some burden on my shoulders, and this is the only way to free me of the weight."
It all sounded ridiculous. But Daenerys has only ever dealt with problems diplomatically. Whenever she had idea like Jon's Tyrion would somehow talk her out of it, but this time Tyrion was the one who talked Jon into it. "Damn you Jon, if everyone returns and you don't, I'll burn down the entire Wall until you do."
"I'll make sure that doesn't happen then."
Daenerys stood on the battlements as Jon and his party of Jorah, Brienne, Tormund, and Ser Davos rode out of Winterfell. As they continued on, Jon stopped and looked out to Daenerys. He waved his hand at her, smiling. She waved back to him and watched him ride with the others. She didn't stop watching him until they all disappeared from sight. She was joined by Samwell Tarly. "Don't worry, he'll be back." He assured her. "Jon always comes back."
"He'd better."