The Great Hall was filled with the noise of a hundred voices as the noblemen and women of the north gathered.
Today was the day the formerly unattainable Lady of Winterfell chose her husband.
Mya Stone stood up with the rest of the hall as Bellegere strode in with feminine grace. Her presence silenced the crowd.
She stood tall under the gaze of her audience, commanding their attention. Her back was straight and posture poised with class befitting a woman of her stature.
The Lady of Winterfell had never resembled a Black Pearl of Braavos more.
She was so lovely that the candles seemed to glow brighter as she passed.
Her shimmering hair was braided intricately atop her head and then allowed to flow free into a river of curls behind her.
Blue eyes traced the length of her extravagant black dress until their eyes locked across the room.
Mya wondered if Belle could see the sadness and longing within her, just as she could see the stoic resolve in her lady.
Once Bellegere sat down, Maester Luwin spoke.
"We gather here, on this joyous day, to announce that Lady Bellegere Stark has chosen her future husband," he said, smiling proudly towards the young woman.
She glanced toward her group of suitors.
Noticing the confident expression on Aurane Waters' face, a smirk pulled at her lips.
Of course he thought he had a chance.
Beside him, Brynden Blackwood forced himself to remain still, lest he begin fidgeting.
He was not certain of his decision to put himself forward as a contender for her hand. The men she was to choose from dwarfed him in battle experience and life experience as well.
He shook his head, releasing a deep breath to center himself. Second thoughts were of no use to him now.
When Maester Luwin spoke again, he almost didn't hear him over the pounding of his heart.
"It is my honor to announce the betrothal of the Lady of Winterfell to the Lord of Raventree Hall, Lord Brynden Blackwood."
Mya Stone stopped breathing as the room erupted with applause and praise.
She watched in disbelief as the blushing, weakling of a boy approached her lady on shaky legs. She couldn't believe this was the husband she chose for herself.
It did not matter to her that he was her own husband's flesh and blood. He could barely stand up against a stiff wind.
Brynden felt faint under the one eyed gaze of his future wife. He didn't have time to accept that this wasn't some fever dream.
There she sat, a vision of beauty beneath the ambient light of the dancing candles, patiently waiting for him.
"My lady," Lord Brynden said, bowing.
"My lord."
He extended a trembling hand to her and she took it graciously.
It was difficult for him not to notice how tiny her hand felt in his or how small she was by his side.
Yet, her presence towered over him.
"After heavy consideration, I am happy to declare my decision to join House Stark with House Blackwood once more," Bellegere spoke to the crowd, still holding his hand in her own.
"Thereby uniting the north with the riverlands and further strengthening our alliance."
As the crowd applauded, Brynden caught the envious gazes of Aurane and Daryn Hornwood across the crowd. Squeezing the hand in his own, he nodded to them with a small grin.
They grumbled to themselves in disbelief.
Maester Luwin stepped forward and touched the young woman's shoulder lovingly.
He never thought he would see this day, and it filled him with great joy. It was almost as if she were his own child.
"Let us celebrate this union with festivities," Luwin said, signaling the band. "And bare witness to the first dance between this fine young couple!"
As music filled the Great Hall, Bellegere tugged at the bony hand in her grasp.
"Come, my lord," she said. "Shall we embarrass ourselves together?"
"Only one of us will be embarrassing themselves, my lady, and it won't be you."
Bellegere chuckled.
"I'm sure you will do fine."
He followed her to the center of the Great Hall as every eye focused on them. The heat of their gazes weighed heavily on his mind.
"Don't fret over them," Bellegere said flippantly.
"Focus on me."
He blushed crimson as she placed his hands on her waist. They were damp with perspiration and shaking against his will.
The exotic brand of beauty before him did not aide in his quest to calm down. He'd never seen a woman like her, and yet, she was to be his.
From this day, until their last day.
He wondered what he did to gain the blessings of the Old Gods. He questioned if he was the best choice.
"I am not fond of dancing, but this is quite simple really," she said. "Just follow my lead."
Bellegere placed her hands on his shoulders, barely able to reach high enough.
Slowly, and precisely, they began to sway to the music. Both of them felt their movements were awkward, but the audience applauded them anyway.
"Lady Bellegere, I am happy to have been chosen," Brynden said earnestly. "You honor me and my house."
Bellegere smiled up at him, amused by his continued formality.
"You may call me by my given name, or Belle," she said. "You're my future husband. There is no need to be so politically correct."
Pink blossomed in his pale cheeks.
"If it please you, Bellegere."
She gave him an encouraging smile.
"It does."
As they continued to dance, Brynden stared down between them, dillingently trying not to step on her toes with his massive feet.
He was clumsy at best, most days. His legs were too long to be graceful or agile. It surprised him that he hadn't stumbled by now.
Bellegere lifted his chin gently, causing his eyes to lock with her one.
She could feel his breathing cease.
"May I speak plainly?"
Entranced, Brynden nodded a bit too eagerly.
"Once our marriage takes place, there are duties that I will expect you to fulfill," she continued in a serious tone.
"As my lord and husband, you must honor your vow to protect me. I expect you to stand by me in sickness and in health, in right and wrong, as I would do the same for you. Lastly, I expect you to give me heirs, so that my house shall continue to prosper."
Lord Brynden swallowed thickly under his lady's unwavering gaze. He was beginning to feel the immense weight on his shoulders.
"Can you do this for me?"
However, Brynden knew what his job entailed, and, as a lord and the soon to be husband of the most enthralling woman he ever saw, he would perform his duty the best he could.
"I can," Brynden said confidently. "I will raise our sons to be valiant knights and formidable lords."
Bellegere chuckled, enjoying his enthusiasm.
"Our sons and daughters, I hope."
"Of course, my- Belle," he stuttered clumsily.
"Our daughters will learn the sword and bow as well. I can only hope them to be as fearsome and proficient as you are."
Bellegere exhaled a relieved sigh.
If she had to wed someone, she supposed there were much worse men to be married to.
She carressed the young man's stubbled jaw, watching him flush with embarrassment.
All at once, she recognized him.
He wasn't the battle hardened knight that she imagined herself to marry one day, but the Old Gods whispered his name.
The red woman foretold his coming.
This was the love forged beneath the immense pressure of duty.
"There you are, Brynden," she whispered, tracing his features. "You will make a fine husband."
Mya witnessed as the lanky boy leaned down to accept a sweet kiss on the cheek from his betrothed.
She looked away, feeling sick to her stomach.
Ser Royce Blackwood noticed her discomfort and hurried to his wife's side.
"What bothers you, my love? Are you ill?"
Mya shook her head.
"I just...I hope that your nephew is able to provide Lady Bellegere with the type of support she requires in the coming conflict," she said, glancing toward the pair.
"He is a good boy, but I fear he is not prepared to handle the situation he's been thrust into."
He frowned, looking between his wife and the woman he swore to protect. There was an unspoken history there that he'd known about for some time.
Ser Royce sighed heavily, stepping into her space.
"Will you be stuck in the past forever," he asked in a quiet, solemn tone.
She regarded him with wide eyes.
"You chose to marry me. If you continue to look back, you are lost."
Mya lowered her head with shame.
"Perhaps you're correct."
As she watched the new couple warm up to one another, laughing and talking amicably, she swallowed the hurt and anger.
Bellegere was only performing her duty as the Lady of Winterfell.
Just as Mya performed her duty as a bastard, marrying a man who would ignore her lowly status and take care of her.
Duty will be the death of us, Mya thought.
At the end of the feast, Lady Bellegere stood to address the Great Hall.
"My esteemed friends, I and my betrothed thank you for attending this important event in our lives," she said sincerely.
"Our marriage ceremony will take place in two days' time, and we hope to see you all again at the feast!"
Raucous applause sounded in the hall, causing Lord Brynden to stand and take his place beside his future wife.
Lady Jonelle Cerwyn stood as well, raising her goblet of wine to the couple.
"Final tribute," she announced, gaining the great hall's attention.
"I raise my cup to the fruitful union of the Lady of Winterfell and Lord Brynden of House Blackwood! May they live long and live well!"
The crowd raised their cups as well.
"Hear, hear!"
Amidst the cheers and support of their peers, Brynden mustered the confidence to take his lady's hand.
Bellegere glanced up at him, noticing the smitten expression on his face. A smile tugged at her lips as he interlocked their fingers together.
Yes, she thought. I can learn to love him.
When night descended over Winterfell, Bellegere found herself in her chambers. She sighed as her handmaids finished removing the pins in her hair.
"Thank you, milady's," she said, dismissing them for the night.
As the women left, someone else slipped through the crack in the door.
Bellegere shook her head, sighing to herself.
"The hour is late," she said. "How did you get past the guards?"
Mya didn't say a word.
Instead, choosing to close the distance between them. Her lady stiffened but didn't move away.
Although she had to look up to meet Bellegere's gray eye, her confidence in that moment overwhelmed the usually outgoing Stark.
Mya reached out, ghosting her fingertips over her lady's jaw slowly, and rejoicing in the way she still trembled at her touch.
"Did you choose him to spite me?"
"What?"
"Don't be coy."
Bellegere exhaled shakily.
"Of course not," she whispered. "I chose the man that the gods advised me to choose."
Mya didn't believe in any gods.
Not the Seven, or the Old Gods, or the Black Goat of Qohor.
Just her lady and herself.
"If they told you to marry that sorry excuse for a man, then it must be a punishment for something," she said, crossing her arms.
Bellegere glared at her intensely, sending shivers down her spine.
"I understand you're upset, Mya," she said in a harsh tone. "But you will not speak of my betrothed in that manner."
She lowered her head in shame.
"I apologize, my lady," Mya muttered. "That was unbecoming of me."
Bellegere sighed heavily and pulled her closer.
She understood how she was feeling all too well, but there was nothing that could change their circumstances.
"My Belle," Mya murmured, pressing their foreheads together.
"What have we become?"
Bellegere tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
"We became women," she said. "And, women are expected to marry. As Lady of Winterfell, I also have a duty to bare children and ensure that my bloodline continues."
"Could we not have married? Alone. Before your Old Gods. Find some man to give us children."
Her nostrils flared.
"Perhaps," Bellegere muttered. "If life was a fairy tale and you weren't married to Ser Royce."
Mya grabbed her when she made to pull away.
"Don't do that," she whispered. "Please."
As the wolf stared at her, she could see the sadness that she hid deep inside. The buried resentment that she masked so well.
Mya felt the sting of regret.
"Belle...our hearts are still one," she said, sniffing away tears. "We don't have to neglect the love that remains between us."
She slowly moved closer, hoping that her lady would accept her.
"I am betrothed," Bellegere said, halting her. "And you...you're married. We have to sacrifice the passions of our hearts and do what is right. Regardless of how we feel."
Mya took her face in her hands, conveying all of the love and longing she felt through her eyes.
"You can try to hide behind your honor," she said, frowning. "But your gods know who you are and what you truly desire. Who you truly desire."
As the familiar caress of Mya's lips pressed against her own, Bellegere lost herself in the sound of a thousand memories.
Through the seasons of her life, Mya had always been her closest companion.
Though, not in this way.
Bellegere could remember the kindling of the flame between them slowly roaring into the wildfire it was today.
A wildfire that seared into her skin as hands roughly pulled her deeper into the kiss. Their lips danced together in such a familiar way.
Quickly and then slowly, soft and then bruising.
Teeth tugged at her bottom lip, and nails left crescent shapes on the back of her neck. Hands fisted painfully in her hair.
She missed this.
No one else could touch her like this, she mused. No man, especially not her betrothed, would have her lover's audacity.
They feared her, where Mya did not.
When they were together, in this way, Bellegere never felt more like a wolf.
Hungry, feral, desperate.
In a perfect world, Mya Stone would be her's.
"Enough."
She pulled away, panting and filled with sorrow.
Mya followed her, but the stern look in her eye made her stop short. She thought she might tell her to leave, but Bellegere came to her instead.
She moved in so close that she could feel the warmth of her breath.
Slowly, she wrapped her arms around her, hugging her. Her head rested on her friend's shoulder as it had so many times before.
Mya exhaled and returned her embrace. Her eyes closed as the other woman spoke in a hushed whisper. Almost silently, as if she was afraid that someone might hear her.
"Gods, I love you," Bellegere said as if it were an apology. "I do."
An apology for how many times she hadn't said it in the past.
For every time she would not say it in the future.
"As I love you."
Bellegere pulled back to connect their foreheads together, preparing herself for what she had to do.
In the name of duty and honor.
"Forgive me," she said quietly.
Her gray eye was damp with tears, but her expression was stoic.
"Belle...don't."
Mya knew what she would say.
She knew it before she fixed her bruised lips to utter the words.
"This ends here," Bellegere began, her tone allowing no room for arguments.
"From this night forward, you will only return to do your duty as my lady in waiting. There will be no more mention of our past together."
Mya lowered her head to hide the shattered expression on her face.
"In two days' time, I will wed Lord Brynden and these chambers will be ours," she continued, turning away from her.
Something had been severed within her, she knew. It was best not to witness it.
"I will not allow you to disrespect our union and your own by dwelling on childish feelings."
Bellegere paused as soft sobs sounded behind her. She wanted to comfort her, but that would only soften her already fragile resolve.
"If you cannot set aside your emotions for the sake of integrity, I will have you sent back to the Vale," she said, swallowing thickly.
"Do you understand?"
Mya stared at her back with wide, leaking eyes.
Her arms crossed over herself, as if to muffle the sound of herself breaking. Or, perhaps, to keep herself from scattering across the floor.
Mya wanted to tell her to turn around and face her like the strong woman she prided herself to be. She considered calling her bluff or shaking her until she stopped this madness.
Instead, she bit her tongue.
The bitter taste of iron filled her mouth.
"Yes, my lady," Mya said, bowing her head.
"I do."
Bellegere did not turn around to watch her leave.
In fact, she didn't move for a long time.
I did what was right.
Bellegere repeated this to herself again and again until she almost believed it. Until she was finally able to lie down in her cold bed.
Hours passed like years as she tried to find rest.
In the end, all she found was grief.
