Lord Brynden Blackwood stood before the great heart tree in the godswood, trying to keep his emotions in check.
His heart pounded in his chest as his bride was escorted to him.
"Are you nervous, my lady," Ser Royce asked quietly. "I know I was."
Bellegere chuckled, her eyes never leaving the sweet boy who waited so patiently for her.
"You were nervous," she asked, surprised.
"You had no reservations about fighting alongside my brother."
"Battles are simple. You fight and try not to die. Being a good husband and father is much more complicated."
Bellegere frowned.
She was quiet for a long moment.
"I am more than just nervous," she sighed. "I'm asking him to die for me, if it came down to that."
Ser Royce squeezed her hand.
"It sounds like you're just asking him to be a husband, my lady."
"Perhaps you're right."
He noticed the sadness that passed over her face, and wished he could do something to help.
"I wish my father was here," Bellegere whispered, holding back tears.
"He would have wanted to see this."
The knight took a deep breath, feeling his own brand of grief for one of the best men he ever knew.
"Thank you for standing in for him," she said, squeezing his hand. "I won't forget this kindness."
When they arrived at the heart tree, the private ceremony began.
As they were both followers of the Old Gods, it was only right to have a traditional wedding.
"Lord Brynden Blackwood," he said, smiling at his nephew proudly.
"I, Ser Royce of House Blackwood, present your bride, Lady Bellegere of House Stark."
Brynden took her hands in his own, admiring how beautiful she looked in her white bride's cloak.
"Do you accept this woman as your wife?"
He felt nervous, yes, but also happy.
Even though what they were doing would cause a storm of backlash, he could only think about how lucky he was to have been seen as worthy of her hand.
"I take this woman," Brynden said without hesitation.
Bellegere swallowed back the reservations that clouded her mind with doubt. He looked at her with such innocent wonder that she couldn't help but share some of his joy.
"Lady Bellegere, do you accept this man as your husband?"
She felt the gaze of the Old Gods weighing heavily upon her as she locked eyes with her shy groom.
Her chin lifted as she remembered why she chose him. It was her duty to obey the decree of her gods. Even above her own wants and desires.
"I take this man."
Ser Royce stepped away as they kneeled in front of the heart tree together, hand in hand, to solidify the binding of their souls.
The couple shared a glance, and then bowed their heads in a show of submission to the Old Gods.
Both of them prayed beneath the weeping face of the ancient weirwood, as was custom.
Brynden, for the health and prosperity of his wife and his marriage, and Bellegere, for guidance.
Once they rose, they were no longer two people.
They were one.
In the eyes of the gods and men alike.
"Are you ready to carry me to the feast," Bellegere asked, staring at her husband expectantly.
Brynden looked as if he forgot about that aspect of the ceremony.
He glanced towards the Great Keep, noticing how far it was. It appeared leagues away from where they stood.
"Come now, my lord," Ser Royce chuckled. "We don't have all day."
As her new husband struggled to pick her up, Bellegere glanced through the trees.
A smile blossomed on her lips.
In the distance, Runa stared back at her with one, black eye. Behind her, three smaller wolves sat watching them as well.
Whether it was delusional or not, she believed wholeheartedly that this was a sign from her father.
Or, at least, a good omen from her gods.
Throughout the feast, Mya Stone couldn't stop glancing toward the table where the new couple sat together.
Lord Blackwood was obviously overjoyed and Bellegere looked happy enough, but she couldn't contain the jealousy that ate away at her.
She was filled with dread at the prospect of what followed after the festivities were over.
The thought of Bellegere waddling about the keep pregnant with the whelp's babe caused her to cringe and look away.
She deserved better than him.
"Are you still wallowing in self pity, my lady?"
Mya didn't bother to turn around.
She knew that voice anywhere.
"Not self pity," she said, scowling. "All my pity is reserved for Lady Bellegere and what she'll have to endure tonight. That boy doesn't know what to do with a woman."
Melisandre smirked, obviously amused.
"If I were you, I would watch the way you speak of your new lord," she said, raising a brow. "It seems you have fallen out with your lover and now you're disparaging her husband."
Mya turned around to glare at her.
"Who are you to tell me how to speak?"
The red woman came to stand beside her, glancing at the wolf and her husband.
"I recall, not long ago, you asked me who I was," she said clasping her hands together.
"I am a red priestess of R'hllor. In the flames, I see more than you can comprehend."
Mya's brows furrowed as the woman turned to her with a sorrowful expression.
"I have seen your future lying before me like a tattered tapestry," Melisandre said. "And I feel it necessary to warn you."
She gestured toward the Lady of Winterfell with a haunted look in her eyes.
"Do you know how she brought her brother back to life?"
Mya shook her head slowly, staring at the woman with rapt attention.
"I watched her sacrifice one of the men who betrayed him to her gods," Melisandre said in a hushed tone.
"She took the man's head off with a dagger, my lady. All in the name of loyalty and love for her brother."
Mya covered her mouth with her hand, unable to comprehend what she was being told. She knew that her friend practiced macabre traditions, such as littering the godswood with corpses.
However, she couldn't imagine Bellegere killing a man in such a sadistic manner.
Melisandre stepped closer to the bastard and sighed deeply.
"If the wolf would commit an act like that for her brother, I challenge you to ask yourself what she would do in the name of her lord husband," she said, pausing. "Or, in honor of the father of her children?"
Mya scowled at her.
"Are you insinuating that Bellegere would harm me," she whispered harshly. "Her closest friend?"
"Not at all, my lady. I am merely warning you that, despite how she feels for you, she would do unimaginable things in the name of her family," Melisandre said, leaning in.
"Heed my warning and put a leash on your jealousy before it grows into a beast you cannot control."
When the red witch walked away, she left Mya Stone thoroughly confused and filled with a strange sense of dread.
Never had she feared her friend, but now she was questioning everything.
Even herself.
When the feast ended Lady Bellegere and her husband found themselves in her bedchamber.
Their bedchamber, she thought to herself.
It was hard to accept that she would be sharing her private space with someone she didn't know.
A man that now had a right to her body, whether she wanted to lie with him or not.
As Brynden stood awkwardly in the center of her room, staring at her bed with a nervous expression, she sighed to herself.
They were expected to consummate their marriage, and it seemed as though her husband would not be the one to initiate it.
"Brynden, why don't you come sit down," she said, gesturing toward the seat next to her.
He obeyed and sat stiffly before the crackling hearth. His eyes focused on the flames as he thought about what was about to happen.
"I assume your guards have gone to Raventree Hall to gather your possessions," she said, sipping her wine.
"They have," Brynden replied quietly. "And to inform my younger brother of his new station."
Bellegere regarded him with a soft gaze, wondering what the Old Gods noticed within him that she did not.
All she saw was a self conscious boy.
A boy sorely lacking in the leadership qualities she acquired well before his age.
Her eye traced over the planes of his face.
Brynden was not hideous, by any means.
He had thick lips, an angular jaw, and a prominent nose. His pale blue eyes were unguarded, displaying his emotions plainly. There was an innocence to him that she lost many moons ago.
He desired her, she knew.
Bellegere could see it in the way he snuck glanced at her, and feel it in his anxious energy.
She knew a girl just like him.
A girl that became the only woman she had ever loved.
"We are now married," Bellegere sighed, taking a gulp of wine.
"Are you prepared for the conflict we will face?"
"I am," Bryden replied passionately. "The Lannisters had no right to kill your father. Nor should they continue to treat you the way they have."
She nodded, listening intently.
"The title of Wardeness of the North was yours, by all rights. They only gave the title to Roose Bolton as a display of disrespect."
"Yes, but do you realize that you could die," Bellegere interjected solemnly.
"You could die, merely because I've chosen you as my husband. Rather than marrying a Lannister."
Brynden nodded to himself, deciding not to lie.
"Truthfully, I'm still not prepared for that."
She appreciated his honesty.
It was better than him pretending to be unbothered by it.
"However, as your lord husband and a lifelong ally to your house, I will take on that responsibility," he said adamantly.
"At the end of the day, I would rather die fighting for what is right than die a coward."
Bellegere smiled, meeting Brynden's devoted gaze under the light of the hearth.
Her brows rose as he took her hand in his.
It was warm and softer than her own.
Her lord husband didn't know the harsh realities of battle, as she had. He had yet to watch a man die from the blow of his own blade, or drug bodies into a pit he dug with his own two hands.
Nor had he smelled the burning of flesh, the stink of rotting corpses, and the screams of women being taken by force.
He was still an untainted, pure soul.
A beautiful rarity.
She released a deep, shaky breath as he hesitantly carressed the back of her hand with his thumb. Her hardened heart was slowly beginning to soften.
She loathed the day that he lost his innocence.
"Bellegere, I know that you only chose me because of your desire to strengthen your house and your aliances," Brynden muttered under his breath.
"But I will work tirelessly to prove that you made the right decision. I swear it by the Old Gods and the new."
Bellegere smiled faintly, squeezing his hand.
To make an oath was no small gesture.
"Have you been with a woman, Brynden?"
His eyes widened and he chuckled embarrassedly.
"No, I have not," he said, nibbling his lip. "However, I am not completely ignorant."
It was a rhetorical question, really. She could tell that holding her hand was the most affection he had ever recieved from the fairer sex.
"In truth, I am not a maiden," she said, still staring at their joined hands.
Brynden frowned, not expecting this confession.
"I have not known a man, but...I have known a woman. Many times. I doubt it's much different."
Bellegere looked up to watch his face blush crimson. No doubt, he was thinking about what that entailed.
"We don't have to lie with one another tonight," Brynden said, noticing how somber she seemed.
"I wouldn't begrudge you."
Bellegere shook her head.
"I appreciate your chivalry, but we must do it tonight," she said, looking away from him.
"It is tradition, and I will not doom our marriage by going against the grain."
Brynden watched her gulp the rest of the wine in her cup. When she finished, she stood up abruptly and extended a hand to him.
"Shall we?"
When her husband settled between her legs, his brow already damp with sweat, she tried to smile at him encouragingly.
"Relax," Bellegere whispered. "We are both nervous. There is no judgement here."
After carefully helping him enter her, she lie back against the furs, watching.
Bellegere didn't know what it meant for a man to experience a woman for the first time, but her husband seemed to enjoy it.
To her, it was uncomfortable and painful, but she watched his brow furrow and his jaw flex with growing fascination.
She hoped he was feeling some sort of pleasure.
Then, at least, one of them would enjoy this.
"Are you in pain, my lady," Brynden asked, noticing the grimace on her face.
Bellegere shook her head.
"I'm fine," she lied, caressing his face.
"Just...slow down a bit."
Brynden nodded dutifully and tried to do as told despite the glorious feeling of being inside her.
His eyes raked over her body in wonder, memorizing the curves, freckles, and healed scars that littered her skin.
Bellegere closed her eyes to escape his gaze, disappearing into memories of past intimate moments.
However, the change of pace in her husband's thrusts caused her to feel something other than pain and discomfort.
It pulled her away from her soothing dreamland and back to reality.
Bellegere gripped his arm as pleasure traveled from between her legs, up her spine.
When she failed to contain a moan, Brynden glanced down at her worriedly. He began to ask if she was in pain, but she placed her hand over his mouth to silence him.
Bellegere pulled him down until his face rested in the crook of her neck. Her fingers threaded into his long hair and she disappeared again.
In her mind's eyes, she could feel full breasts against her own, instead of a flat, bony chest.
The hips moving against her own were not sharp, but round and shapely, and the deep moans in her ear were lighter and more seductive.
Bellegere's hands began to carress his body, pulling him deeper into her, until she felt him getting closer to his climax.
It's not so bad, she told herself.
When the stars exploded behind Brynden's eyes, he whispered her name reverently and collapsed on top of her.
All she could hear was Mya's voice.
Bellegere lie there, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers continued to stroke his hair as he caught his breath.
She was loathe to leave her daydream. She could still feel her first love here, lying on top of her.
At the same time, she felt as if she betrayed her husband in the worst way.
Brynden lifted his head slightly to look at her with half lidded eyes. Her expression was solemn and it worried him.
He assumed from the way she touched him that she was enjoying their coupling, but now he wasn't so sure.
"I hope it wasn't terribly uncomfortable for you," he said, trying to roll off of her.
"I know you are no maiden, but I read that it can still be painful-"
"Hush."
Bellegere pulled him back down, tucking his head back into the crook of her neck again. When she felt him smile against her skin, she closed her eyes.
"You did well, Brynden," she said, caressing his back. "Rest now."
Bellegere sorely wished to apologize.
She was ashamed of herself for making love to someone else through him.
For not being present with him.
He was a good person. Caring, thoughtful, and kind. She could mold him into a great lord.
Perhaps even a great father, if she fell pregnant.
The thought of having children gave her pause. Bringing a child into this world was not an exciting prospect. Especially with so many eyes and swords focused on her house.
However, duty, sacrifice, and family overruled all.
As Bellegere held her sleeping husband, she swore to devote herself to him completely.
For, he was her family now.
