There's some slight smut towards the end of the chapter se warned.
17. Hermione
The arrival of Jaime Lannister had set everyone on edge. The fact that he had come alone was not missed either. It would seem in their dire hour, the one who called herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms would turn her back on them. Hermione couldn't understand it; no matter how hard she tried to rationalize it. They were fighting for the very survival of the Seven Kingdoms and Cersei Lannister was unbothered.
A great number of the lords and ladies were visibly upset by Jaime's arrival. That, Hermione, could understand. Sam had – in their lessons – explained the vast wealth and stronghold of House Lannister. He also explained how the Seven Kingdoms had fallen to ruin under their guise of leadership. It was not difficult to see why many were held so much trepidation and anger for the Kingslayer.
She did not have any prior interaction with the man, having only ever heard the sordid tales and never truly setting sight on him. She supposed she could understand the appeal, some of the handmaidens had expressed towards him. He was handsome enough and spoke with an air of forgotten arrogance though Hermione suspected that all to be an act. Every so often she would catch the sincerity and almost desperation in his voice.
He had been standing across the courtyard when he noticed her. Before she had the mind to turn away, he was casually strolling up to her.
"My lady, I don't believe we've met before." He said in a way of greeting.
"No, we have not," Hermione answered.
"Ser Jaime Lannister," he said.
"I know," Hermione said. "Hard not to have heard the tales of you, Ser Jaime."
"But I've heard none of you and yet you're on the arm of the King in the North," Jaime remarked. Hermione tensed but said nothing. "And now I hear you are soon to be Queen in the North."
Hermione considered him for a moment. "Quite impressive of you to learn so much in such a short space of time."
"My brother used to prattle on about the importance of information and I suppose there is plenty merit to that," Jaime said.
"Yes, Lord Tyrion seems to take great pleasure in being so well informed."
"You've met?" Jaime looked surprised.
"On my trip to Dragonstone with the King," Hermione answered.
"Ah yes, the dragonglass," Jaime said looking worried. "Are you sure it will work?" he asked almost hesitantly.
"It will work," Hermione assured him. "Have you seen it yet?" she asked a moment later.
He didn't have to answer, Hermione knew right away that he had. It was that same haunted look everyone else had as they walked away from the cage. To know that the terrible horrors of the night are real does not settle well, even with the bravest of knights.
"Yes," he answered nonetheless solemn. "I thought I was done fighting monsters," he murmured.
"There are always monsters to fight, Ser Jaime," Hermione said sadly.
Jaime looked at her closely and then slowly nodded as if coming to some silent assessment of her. He smiled and Hermione was taken aback by how sincere it was. She expected more pomp and arrogance, given his reputation.
"Yes, there are," He agreed and then looked over Hermione's shoulder. "She is a very wise woman."
Hermione turned to see Jon standing not far behind her, clearly listening to them. "Indeed she is," Jon said as he joined Hermione.
"I hope you survive this war. I hear married life is quite lovely," Jaime said smirking and Hermione wasn't entirely sure if he was serious or not.
"Thank you Ser," Jon said.
Sensing he was now intruding, Jaime bid them both a hasty goodbye. Jon turned to Hermione a smile already on his lips, but his eyes foretold his worry.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm uncertain of how far to trust the reach of Jaime Lannister's sword, especially when his brother joins us," Jon confessed. "But I cannot turn him away."
"You need his experience," Hermione said in understanding.
"Aye, I do. But he makes the other lords …"
"Angry?" Hermione offered.
Jon nodded releasing a raspy exhausted breath. Brazenly, Hermione reached for his gloved hand squeezing it in silent support. He took a moment longer to gather himself before turning to her again, this time with less worry and a little more excitement in his eyes. They walked through the courtyard together, a few stares here and there from those around them, but Hermione was slowly coming to realise that those looks would not stop, certainly when she became queen.
"Nervous?" he asked.
Hermione chuckled. "No," she said honestly. "If I thought I was making a mistake or if I didn't believe in you … or us then maybe but I'm quite certain of you." Jon laughed and Hermione beamed happily to have brought a little cheer to him. "Are you?" she asked in return.
"A little," he admitted, his cheeks colouring ever so slightly. Hermione looked rather surprised at that. Ghost trotted up to them and Jon leaned down a little to pet the white wolf. "Keeping you safe and happy is all I want to do."
Hermione smiled sweetly. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. I am very happy and quite safe." For now, she added silently. No one wanted to think what would change when the walkers arrived.
"Is everything in order for tonight, then?" Jon asked her.
Ghost nuzzled her hand and she let her hand out to rub his fur. "Yes, everything is in place." She said happily.
There was no point in further delaying the wedding and the Kingslayer's arrival seemed to spur that sentiment along. As per the traditions of the North, Jon and Hermione would be wed at nightfall in the eyes of the Old Gods. They would stand before the Weirwood tree, with the lords and ladies of Jon's council and the Starks. And before the night was over, Hermione would be a wife and Queen. Usually, the groom's head of house would be the one to conduct the ceremony but as Jon was the head of House Stark, that duty fell to the next male heir, Bran.
"Good, then I shall see you tonight, my lady," Jon replied. He looked around hastily before pulling her into a quiet corner. Her little gasp of shock was quietened by his lips against hers. She responded in kind. All too quickly he was pulling away, smirking at her.
Hermione laughed and watched as he turned and left. She returned to her quarters and just in time as Sansa had sent extra handmaids to help her bathe and dress. They scrubbed her down and then fidgeted with her hair for a good portion before deciding on a pretty braid that Hermione would never have been able to figure out. She liked it though, especially as they had left most of her hair down. They helped her slip into the dress, a beautiful creation of white and silver. It was heavy and warm and Hermione was surprised at how bridal it did make her feel. It was not the wedding dress she would have ever imagined for herself, and that she found was entirely wonderful.
It was already nightfall when Hermione left her quarters. Ser Davos was already waiting outside the castle doors. He beamed, so proudly and Hermione felt her heart stammer at the thought that her father would truly not be here to see her get married.
She knew those that awaited her in the Godswood. Jon's council, Lord Manderly, Royce and Glover as well as Ladies Alys Karstark and Lyanna Mormont. Sam would be there too and that gave her a little more courage. She could barely make out their figures on either side of the aisle, lit by torches. The flames burnt calmly in the night. They stopped at the entrance, waiting for permission to enter.
She squeezed Ser Davos' arm as her heart jumped a little. "I was right, wasn't I?" he teased. "He's pretty."
Hermione chuckled thankful for his distraction. "Thank you for doing this."
"It's my absolute honour, my lady." Ser Davos said and Hermione believed every word of that. "And may I add that you look absolutely beautiful." He looked a little teary-eyed and Hermione reached for his hand. "Like a true Northern Bride." He looked over Hermione, clearing his throat as he extended his arm to her. "Come now, my lady."
Suddenly, she felt quite nervous. As if time and reality had finally sunk in. Ser Davos must have seen the look on her face, for he patted her hand reassuringly. She took a moment, exhaled and then nodded at him.
As she expected the Godswood was peaceful, the torches offered just enough light for Hermione to make out everyone. As she got closer they grew clearer but she had no mind for them. All she saw was Jon. Again she squeezed Ser Davos' arm as she took him in. He wore a black cloak lined in brown near black fur. Beneath the cloak, Hermione could just make out the jerkin and of course, atop his head, sat his circlet. She was struck with how handsome he looked, especially when he smiled at her like he was doing now.
She couldn't help but return it and then caught Ser Davos looking quite pleased beside her. As she walked, her nervousness fell away. She always assumed her heart would be pounding furiously or having so many people watch her so closely would cause her to falter in her steps. But she did not. Hermione was of clear, calm mind as she took as even and graceful steps as she could towards her husband to be. They stopped just before the Weirwood tree, where Jon was waiting.
Bran was seated in front of the tree and it was his voice that broken the serene silence around them. "Who comes before the Old Gods tonight?"
"Hermione Granger, ward of House Seaworth," Ser Davos answered. His voice was strong and proud. "A woman grown, noble and true. She comes here to seek the blessings of the Old Gods. Who comes to claim her?"
Jon stepped forward, still smiling at her. "Jon of House –"
"No Jon." Bran interrupted and they all froze. This time, Hermione did feel that anxiousness bubble up a little. Her hand clutched tightly to Ser Davos once more. "You cannot claim her under your bastard name. You cannot lie to the Gods."
Jon looked at Hermione, his eyes widening in quick realization. Hermione worried her lip, knowing this was not how Jon wanted to reveal his secret. She did not want to take that choice away from him but if they were to be married, he would have to truly accept his parentage in front of the gods and Lord and Ladies as witnesses.
Hermione looked at him, hoping to tell him that it was okay. They didn't have to do this. Not yet. They could wait, couldn't they?
She was ready to open her mouth and tell him as much when Sam stepped up and whispered something in Jon's ear. The tense silence seemed to drown her and she felt a deep flush over her cheeks as those behind her mumbled. They were understandably confused but waited all the same.
She turned to Ser Davos uncertainly and then back to Jon. She was about to take a step back when Jon nodded as Sam retreated and then silently extended his hand to her.
Hermione didn't question it as she placed her hand in his. Shocked by the warmth of his bare skin against hers. His fingers wrapped around her tiny hand and he squeezed it looking at Ser Davos, nodding at him.
"Who comes to claim her?" Ser Davos asked again.
Exhaling Jon looked only at her. "Aegon, of the Houses Targaryen and Stark, sixth of my name; heir to the Iron Throne and King in the North." His voice wavered as he spoke and his statement was met only with stunned silence. But Jon had little mind for them. If Bran thought to object to Jon including house Stark, Jon did not give him the opportunity as he continued. "Who gives her?" he asked.
"Ser Davos of House Seaworth. She is my ward." Ser Davos replied looking down at Hermione.
"Lady Hermione, do you take this man?" Bran asked.
Hermione smiled. "I take this man."
It was done. She was now officially in the eyes of the Gods, Jon's wife and whether he chose to go by Snow, or Stark or Targaryen, Hermione couldn't be happier. But they had little time to celebrate as they turned to face the shocked faces of the Northern Lords.
They all looked at each other and then at Jon, demanding an explanation. Jon did not release Hermione's hand as he spoke. "My lords, it was recently learned that my father was not Ned Stark." He began. "My father was Rhaegar Targaryen and my mother was Lyanna Stark."
"You're a Targaryen." Lord Manderly murmured stunned. "You're …"
Hermione could tell Jon did not know what to say to ease Lord Manderly. "But you're still a bastard. How could you be heir to the throne?" Lord Glover asked.
"He's not," Bran answered when Jon did not. "Rhaegar Targaryen had his marriage to Elia Martell annulled and then married my aunt Lyanna. Jon is not a bastard."
"You're a true born Stark," Lord Manderly said sounding awed.
"And Targaryen," Lord Glover grimly reminded them.
"I am as I have always been," Jon told them. "I did not tell you because I didn't want to distract from this fight. Who sits on the throne is not nearly as important as us winning the Great War."
"So we keep this a secret now?" Lord Manderly asked aghast. "How can we? You have more of a claim to the throne than Daenerys Targaryen!"
The others murmured their agreement but this argument had been had before. "And if she finds out?" Hermione asked them. "What do you think the Dragon Queen will do if she finds out Jon has a better claim to the throne than she does?"
"She'd be mad to try and kill our King!" Lord Manderly defended.
"She crossed an ocean with her army. Already won a battle with just one of her dragons against the Lannister forces." Hermione reasoned. "She's far more tactical than you give her credit for." They all looked uncomfortable as Hermione spoke, no doubt disliking immensely just how right she was. "Jon is right. We cannot risk telling anyone until we have dealt with the threat the Night King poses."
Jon looked at her quite proudly as he spoke, "We can deal with matters of ascension after we're done winning the Great War."
"And what should we do about Daenerys then? Do you think she's likely to share a throne she sailed so far for?" Lord Royce asked.
"She is not the sharing sort," Ser Davos remarked quietly but they all heard.
"She'd probably argue if King Jon's a Targaryen then it's all the same if she rules and if we don't bend the knee … well I imagine how she'd deal with that." Lady Alys Karstark said somberly.
Jon was quick to assure them all. "I have no intentions of letting the North fall so easily to another. I cannot say what will come after the battle, but you have my word, my lords, I will fight for the North." He said sincerely. He reached for Hermione's hand once more. "I promise my lords, I am still your King, if you'll have me."
They said nothing, all wearily watching the next. "Of course we will." Lyanna Mormont finally said. "I didn't care when he was a bastard, and I don't care now. Jon Snow, Aegon Targaryen, call him whatever you want. I'll still call him my King."
Jon sighed in relief and looked gratefully at Lyanna. She returned it before turning back to the lords, withering them down with her gaze.
"There is still much to be discussed about this," Lord Glover forewarned.
"Aye, after we win," Jon said firmly.
"Very well," Lord Royce said begrudgingly. "We shall follow you into battle, King Jon and none of this shall be spoken until the last walker is dead."
Hermione had thought it was done, but Bran reminded them they had one more piece of business to attend to.
"You have to crown your queen, Jon," he said.
Hermione felt her heart leap again. In all the excitement of marrying Jon, she had forgotten, to be queen, they would have to crown her in the sight of the Gods. This would be as official as it got in the North.
Bran now looked at the other lords as he asked, "Are there any objections to this?"
They had none. She was not entirely surprised; they would trust Jon to be true to his word. He had not led them astray thus far. In the weeks they had been at Winterfell, they had come to trust Hermione too. It was not blind faith and she knew she had earned it but still, she felt relieved when they drew no objections.
Sam emerged then smiling with a box in his hand. When he opened it, Jon turned back to Hermione. "Ready?" he whispered and she could barely nod. He smiled, understanding as he lifted the crown from the box.
"I, Aegon, of the Houses Targaryen and Stark, King in the North, do proclaim you as my wife and Queen in the sight of the Gods," Jon said clearly. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply when he placed the crown on her head.
Hermione's crown was as unornamented as Jon's but no less beautiful. To match his own, Hermione's open circlet was also of black steel but she surmised hers was far less heavy than his. It intricately wound around her head with no points or peaks, converging in the middle where two direwolves were incised in much the same manner as Jon's. Sansa had thought it befitting to honour the gods that had brought Hermione to them and so the band that wrapped around her head was fashioned into the shape of leaves off the Weirwood tree. It was truly beautiful, each leaf so intricately detailed and despite the delicate work, it did not look brittle in any manner. It certainly didn't feel so atop her had.
When she looked at Jon again, he was smiling, one of those rare true uninhibited smiled and she couldn't help but reciprocate. He leaned forward quickly pressing his lips to hers, not caring for their audience for a moment. Hermione grinned, her fingers twisting into the fur of his cloak. They turned back to the others and Hermione almost stumbled back as they all bowed to them. Sansa curtsied too, with the smallest of smiles on her lips.
Jon took her hand as they left the Godswood without any further preamble. Back in the Great Keep, they would dine as they did every other night. Neither Jon nor Hermione thought it appropriate for a large wedding feast. These were dire times and this winter was proving to be the harshest of all. But there had been plenty of ale and hot wine to be passed around and even a few songs had been sung. A murmur found itself across the din of the room as Jon seated Hermione beside him and everyone else finally took note of the crown atop her head.
Hermione had been supplied with wine when a very jovial Lord Manderly stood and raised his glass to where Jon and Hermione sat with the other Starks. Immediately the din dropped so his voice carried across the room. "To the King and Queen in the North." Hermione felt all eyes on her and she nearly panicked until she felt Jon slip his hand into hers, under the table. "Long may they reign." He called to the Gods.
The northerners rose, echoing his sentiments ardently throughout the Great Keep until it was clear and distinct and resonated throughout Winterfell. The northerners drank to their King and his new bride's good health, and for a moment the grief of war did not reach them. The rambunctious laughter and off-key singing of those around them filled the Great Keep once more. Sansa looked at her, raising her glass to Hermione with a small smile.
When the hours grew later, Hermione managed to duck away quietly and made her way towards Jon's chambers like she had been told to do. Her things were already there. Though she knew it would surprise no one if they decided to keep separate rooms. Apparently, that was quite normal in this world. There was a welcoming fire in the hearth that Hermione was immediately drawn to.
She toed off her shoes, nearly tripping in her wedding gown as she did so before plopping rather ungracefully in front of the fire. The fur on which she sat was warm and soft. She'd barely gotten her fingers warm when she heard the rattle of the door. Looking up, she beamed when her new husband came into view. Jon didn't say anything as he too pulled off his boots and joined her on the furs before the fire.
"You are quite the sight," he whispered reaching for her hair. Slowly he took off her crown and placed it down beside them. He looked at Hermione, gave her a tiny nod before she did the same for him. She was not surprised to find she had been right; his crown was far heavier than his. It was a careful reminder of the burden he bore as King.
Jon didn't say anything more, burying his fingers into her hair and then pulling her towards him gently. He kissed her so fiercely and so ardently, Hermione had to anchor herself to him by gripping his thighs.
She sighed when he pulled back. "I have something for you." Her surprise must have been very evident on her face, as he chuckled. "Think of it as a wedding gift."
Before she could think to protest, Jon left their place before the hearth. He pushed the covers from his – well now their – bed and brought back something wrapped in a dark cloth. She was beyond intrigued as he joined her again, this time placing the dark fabric in her lap. He looked oddly nervous and Hermione thought it was the sweetest thing. She unwrapped the fabric as Jon spoke.
"Sam says you're really good. Better than him in fact." Hermione gasped when she saw it. A smallsword. "It's castle – forged steel. Gendry was kind enough to make it for me and well … it's yours."
"Jon…" she lifted the smallsword, grasping the hilt. It was a perfect fit. The steel gleamed in the firelight and her smile was equally bright. "Thank you." She reached forward, her now warm hands cupping his cheek as she kissed him. "
"It will need a name, you know," Jon told her and Hermione frowned, "All great weapons, no matter the size, are given a name."
"Oh. Well, I haven't an idea on what to name it." Hermione bit her lip, deep in thought. "What would you suggest?" she turned to her husband.
"I cannot name it for you." Jon laughed. "People give their swords a symbolic name," he explained and then added, "Most of the time. It has to mean something to you."
"You won't be naming it for me. You're helping me name it." Hermione huffed good-naturedly. "There is a difference. And it would mean something to us both then."
Jon sighed, he gently took the smallsword from her hands, placing it out of the way. Then he grasped her face in his hands until she was looking up at him. "If I were to name a sword, I'd name it after you."
Hermione frowned, her face showing her clear disapproval. "Hermione is not a good name for a sword."
He laughed. "You're being too literal." He pulled her a little closer so that she was nearly in his lap. "I'd name it after something that you have given me."
"What's that?" she asked softly.
"Hope," Jon answered. "Faith. Strength." He shrugged. "Pick one, pick them all."
Hermione exhaled. "Come here," she pulled him closer, her fingers twisting in his tunic. "We can name the bloody sword later," she whispered against his lips before he kissed her again.
Jon fell back onto his hands, Hermione grinning as he groaned beneath her. She straddled his lap, her fingers finding purchase in his hair. He pushed himself up a little as his hands dug into her waist and then they ran up her back, picking away at the fastenings. He growled in frustration at the feel of so many. Hermione giggled. He pulled away to look at her, and Hermione was quite sure no one had ever looked at her with such love. Jon gently rolled them over so he hovered over her and then kissed his way along her jaw and down her neck. Hermione wriggled beneath him, her moans filling the space between them.
They lay intertwined before the fire for the longest of time until Jon pulled away and Hermione pouted. He chuckled kissing her soundly on her lips before pulling her to her feet. She'd managed to get his jerkin and tunic off him as he had finally pushed the gown down beyond her shoulders. He walked her back until her knees hit the bed and she fell into the soft mattress with a sigh. He managed to peel away the gown, it fell to the fall without a second thought and then his calloused hands ran up her thigh, pushing the chemise back exposing more of her creamy skin.
"Jon," Hermione breathed as he pulled the strings of the chemise so it fell open. She had no mind to feel embarrassed, especially when she saw the desire she felt for him reflecting in his own eyes.
Hermione tugged at his breeches almost impatiently and he chuckled. She bit down on his neck running her tongue over it and smirked when he groaned. Jon hastily helped her rid him of his breeches and his fingers danced along her leg until he hitched it around his waist. Hermione gasped at the friction and then Jon was kissing her again. He pulled back, just barely, pressing their foreheads together and then he thrust into her. Hermione threw her head back against the feather pillows, gasping in pure delight at the feeling of absolute completeness. He stilled for a moment, savouring her, before moving. He set a slow almost torturous pace and it was pure glory for Hermione. When she felt her release coming, Hermione reached up, cupping Jon's cheek in her hand. He looked at her, with such intensity she would have blushed if she wasn't already quite so flushed. She moaned his name as she came, but Jon stole anything more she had to say as he kissed her, finding his release in her.
A little while later as they lay beneath the fur covers, pressed tightly together, hands still exploring each other, sharing languid kisses Hermione was certain of two things. The first being that the prophecy of The Prince That Was Promised was true and Jon was in the truest sense, Lightbringer. And two, she unequivocally without a doubt loved this man and she would do anything to see that he survived the coming wars. He deserved all that was his birthright. He'd fought and given more than was asked of any heir before him. She would ensure that he survived and that he was given his birthright. Jon had been her friend, her king and now he was her husband. She did not know much in the way of swords and such but she was not completely without her wills. Jon had saved her, protected her and loved her. Hermione would see that she now did the same for him.
There were grim days ahead. Winter had come and they would need the strength of each other if they were to survive.
The sword shone once more, the firelight reflecting off its perfect blade. She shifted beneath the furs, catching his stare as she did. Her fingers danced along his jaw, smoothing over his beard. She caught sight of her arm then, that wretched word still engraved there and froze. How was it fair that she should still have that scar but not her magic? Now when she needed it the most, to save the man she loved, she was without it. Jon felt her stiffen and reached for her hand. She almost wanted to pull it back but when he placed a kiss at her pulse she found she could not, did not want to. She did not doubt that he saw the scar there.
"What does this say?" he asked quietly, his fingers running over it ever so gently. She had not been without long sleeves long enough for him to see it before. The weather permitted nothing but the warmest clothing, but here in their chambers with each other for warmth and the hearth still burning well, there was nowhere to hide her scars.
"Mudblood," Hermione whispered. "It means dirty blood." Jon stiffened beside her. "In my world, people who have parents that don't have magic are looked down upon. This is a rather nasty word for people like me."
"How did you come by it?"
"There was a war," Hermione started, "and my best friend was caught right in the middle of it. We got captured and I was tortured for information. My torturer thought I should have a forever reminder of what I am, so she carved this word into my arm with a cursed blade."
"You've seen battle before," Jon murmured into her skin.
"I have," she sighed and when she thought her melancholy would take over, Jon pressed her further into the mattress and kissed her until she was nearly breathless. When he pulled away Hermione smiled and shifted. Her eyes flickered to the sword for merely a moment but he noticed.
"Have you thought of a name yet?" he asked. Hermione shook her head. "I told you that all weapons are given a symbolic name." She didn't interrupt, shifting only so she could see him a little better. "Then that sword is a symbol of what it means to us both and should have a name befitting that."
"Do you have one in mind?" she asked.
"I do. I was serious when I said I would name it after you." He brought her fingers up, kissing them gently as Hermione laughed.
"And I already told you, Hermione doesn't sound like a very good name for a sword."
"I wasn't thinking of that name," Jon whispered. "I was thinking we should name it more after what you are."
"And what would that be?" she asked brows raised.
"A warrior. That's what they're calling you right." He smirked a little. "Is there a name for women warriors in your world?" he asked. "I don't think we have one here."
Hermione bit her lip in thought. "We do have one I suppose. It doesn't mean that exactly but women who have become fighters or warriors are sometimes associated with it."
"What do you call such a fierce woman?"
Hermione smiled. "Valkyrie."
Jon paused, looking at her. "Valkyrie," he whispered testing the name on his tongue. "I like it."
"Me too," Hermione murmured.
When Jon kissed her again, more ardently than ever, Hermione thought there could be nothing so true as them at that moment.
AN: Thank you for all the amazing reviews left to this story! I have thee best readers! I am continuously left in awe at the love this story has received! I hope this chapter was all that you imagined it to be (It certainly was for me!). It definitely marks a strong change in the story and for all that is to come.
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