May these vows and this marriage be blessed.
May it be sweet milk,
this marriage, like wine and halvah.
May this marriage offer fruit and shade
like a date palm.
May this marriage be full of laughter,
our every day a day in paradise.
May this marriage be a sign of compassion,
a seal of happiness here and hereafter.
May this marriage have a fair face and a good name,
an omen as welcome as the moon in a clear blue sky.
I am out of words to describe
how spirit mingles in this marriage.
-Rumi, "This Marriage"
The courtyard of the Red Palace, which usually offered a sense of calm and escape to the residents there, sprung to life in the early hours of the morning. The staff worked diligently last night to string up lights and arrange tables and chairs according to the exact layout provided to them. But more work awaited in the coming hours; table cloths needed laying and securing, bringing in the auxiliary seating, installing the floral arrangements (a task requiring a small army considering the sheer number of pieces), installing the dance floor and DJ Booth, and finally, place settings and name placards. Carts carrying masses of burgundy, white, and green entered the courtyard alongside massive helpings of coffee.
An unlikely observer of the organized frenzy sat within the confines of his guest apartments, surrounded by the chilly glamor of the Red Palace. For whatever reason this time around, the staff put him up in a much more gilded cage. Perhaps they thought Jon more important now, deserving of rooms drenched in gold and beige and not understated in the least.
The commotion in the center of the palace woke him and so he watched the staff in hopes of forgetting where he was, or the nerves creeping up on him. In another hour or so, the whole courtyard would look vastly different. A different world to spend the night in, surrounded by people he hardly knew and very few he did.
His attempt to distract himself was in vain, however, as nothing could disguise the vicious red marble and dragon gargoyles staring back. The Red Palace possessed an ostentatious quality that made Winterfell look quaint. Jon missed the old castle, with its stoic grey stone and backdrop of green. And the family that called it home. They would all be together soon, gathered in the Great Sept to witness the wedding ceremony of the decade.
As he stepped into the sitting room, he realized he missed someone else as well. Jon and Dany were promptly separated upon their arrival in King's Landing and hadn't seen each other since. The morning felt empty without her, as though she were a vital piece of his routine.
On days when they had time in the morning, Jon would find her situated on whatever settee with a book in her hand. Or her hands curled around a mug as she stared out the window at whatever their view happened to be, with a fresh face and hair still messy, savoring the calm before their schedule became unbearable.
And on their last stop in Storm's End, he got to wake up by her side. Her silvery gold hair strewn across the pillows and her face, both of them tangled in the gaudy duvet and unwilling to accept the fact they had places to be and things to do. When he tried to rouse her, she groaned and pushed his hand away, mumbling nonsense words and turning over. And when he tried again, she simply pulled him closer, her back flush against his chest.
Jon indulged her on that one and wrapped his arms around her. Feeling the soft curves he'd only thought about tracing through the thin material her nightshirt caused his mind to wander and his hands almost followed suit. But he knew if he started, they wouldn't stop and the Baratheon's would never be rid of the young couple.
He glanced at a nearby clock. He had plenty of time to see Dany, though she was probably in the middle of wedding prep.
"Good morning, Your Royal Highness," a maid greeted, moving through the room with ease and only slightly startled by his presence.
"Good morning. Where's Dany?"
The maid blinked at him before responding, "Her Royal Highness would be in her rooms, I imagine."
"Of course. And where would those be?"
"Uh, down the hall."
Jon thanked her before heading that way, the extravagant hall surprisingly empty of courtiers. Everyone kept to their rooms to preen for the day ahead. They all had an important ceremony to attend later and wanted to look their best in case a camera caught them. Jon snuck a look at the seating plans when Dany looked over them. The palace-approved guest list, which also happened to be a non-negotiable list of people that must be invited, featured so many people they had to set up seating on the plaza outside the cathedral. It appeared the courtiers were so desperate to be spotted at the wedding, they were willing to sit in the summer heat for a glimpse of it.
Another body came down the hall. White-blonde hair and bright colored socks unmistakeable, the silk robe wrapped around her somehow looked out of place and at home.
"It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," she reprimanded playfully, stopping just short of him.
"Good thing we're already married." he gathered her into his arms.
Through her laughter, Dany pressed a quick kiss to his lips before tucking against his chest.
"Are you nervous?" she questioned.
"Not as much as I was the first time."
She pulled back to look at his face, peculiar eyes scanning over his features, her own growing very stern with the effort. Jon had only seen such eyes in illustrations or photos, captured in still lifeless moments. And now he had the loveliest pair to get lost in for the rest of his life. His expression must have shifted at the thought because Dany cracked a small smile.
"You're lying," she revealed as though she were surprised.
"Aye, I am."
"Well, don't be, we're practically pros." she chuckled, "Is that why you were coming to see me?"
"No, I missed you. Waking up without you was weird," he admitted.
"We get through this and we'll never have to be apart again."
Jon pressed a kiss to her nose and smiled at her giggles and scrunched face.
"I found her Elia!" a voice called out.
Dany glanced over her shoulder, "Do you think if we stand really still they won't notice us."
Her southern Majesty, flanked by Missandei and Sansa, came for them.
"It's bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony," Elia's teasing, slightly exasperated voice called.
"Already married," Dany reiterated.
Sansa dismissed it as a technicality and grabbed her sister-in-law, intending to haul her away but not before Dany kissed Jon one more time. The girls went up in protests and groans while Dany relented to being towed away, throwing apologetic looks over her shoulder the whole time.
When he signed his name on the legal documents a few months ago, he did so with the sole purpose of saving his country, never considering the possibility at his fingertips. Then, Dany was nothing more than a newly acquired ally whose hidden charm was growing on him more and more. How fitting that their second wedding, and the most extravagant, be the marker of something so personal.
A little while later, the Stark men showed up, bringing a much-needed distraction. Somehow, the conversation always found its way back to the situation at hand. Jon may have asked how things at home were, and received a vague answer, but Robb started asking about his relationship with Dany and how their time alone in the south went. His brother's remarks earned a swat which turned into light roughhousing.
"Not in the suits," Ned reminded them.
The reprimand got Bran to look up from his phone. The teen looked a little lost separated from his twin.
Arya's willing decision to spend the morning with the ladies surprised Jon. He knew she didn't care for any of the fluffy, utterly feminine things happening on the other side of the castle. But Arya warmed to Dany quicker than expected and probably didn't mind participating in the antics if it meant time to talk with this intriguing woman in their midst.
"Jon," his father's voice drew his attention, "I'd like to talk to you."
They left the main sitting room for a little extra one attached to the apartments. The smaller room seemed unnecessary but it served a purpose then.
"If this is about the incident in Storm's End, you don't have to say anything. The media took care of it."
When the headlines rolled out, Jon expected to feel terrible about them but when he read a few, satisfaction washed over him. The more serious of the publications took the side of the young royals, followed by an online firestorm about the press escalating the situation. Thanks to them, he and Dany avoided most of the backlash and many of the tabloids released statements regarding their stories. Though they made no promises to leave the newlyweds alone.
"No, it's not about that," Ned chuckled, "I don't think I've made it clear how proud I am of you."
Jon scoffed, "All I did was get married. It's not like I signed my first bill or anything."
"You've still made a great sacrifice. Not an easy one either."
"It's not all that bad anymore. I'd say we've grown closer than I thought possible."
Ned hummed, "And have you two? You know…"
His father trailed off, leaving Jon to figure out his insinuation.
"Uh, no, we haven't. Why do you ask?"
"Usually when you put a young couple alone together for a while, they get attached."
"And we are, but not in that way, yet."
"Right."
They lapsed into silence. Jon fiddled with his
"Would she be proud of me?"
"Who?"
"My mother. I like to think she'd be here if she could."
At Ned's shift in posture, Jon knew he struck a nerve. He hadn't meant to.
"I'm sure wherever she is, she's watching with pride as well."
"You don't know where she is?" Jon burst, but immediately backtracked, "Sorry, I know you hate talking about her."
"When I took you in, there was a lot of legal paperwork involved. By the time it was all signed, we agreed it would be best if I didn't keep tabs on her. She never liked the attention that came with my position anyway."
"She was Northern?"
"Of course. I don't think you'd look so much like a Stark if she weren't."
"Did you love her?"
Ned sighed, a small smile on his face, "It was a confusing time in my life… but in a way I did. One day I'll tell you more."
"Okay," Jon accepted as one of the several assistants assigned to keep him on schedule that day entered and announced it was time to leave.
People packed the streets of the Old City alongside filming equipment and vendors selling merchandise. From painted plates and commemorative shirts to limited edition drinks with specially printed labels, they thought of everything. And it only grew worse the closer they got to their destination.
The North's religion of Old Gods was one of silent prayer surrounded by nature, where the Gods could hear you best. Hence the Godswoods and their eerily beautiful trees. But the Southron favored Light of the Seven was known for its large Septs, seven-sided temples with impressive votive statues. And the most famous of those being The Great Sept, commissioned by Baelor the Blessed.
Dany explained that every important royal wedding took place in Baelor's sept and made it clear that if it were up to her, they would be married in a smaller chapel somewhere else. But their southern wedding had to be a spectacle, a common theme Jon picked up on throughout their time there.
Late morning light poured through the hundreds of stained glass windows, casting rainbows and scenes on the marble floors. The southern Gods, his wife's Gods, towered over the gathering. Their massive forms glinting with gold and the deep colors of other gems, Jon couldn't name most of them but he knew which ones were popular by the number of flickering candles at their feet.
He watched from the doorway near the impressive, gilded statue of the Father as the wedding-goers filtered in, finding their seats and gazing at the domed glass ceiling. He spotted Dany's friend Missandei in the second row in a jade green dress, talking animatedly with the lady she sat with. The pews in front of her remained empty in anticipation of the very important guests coming to witness the fruition of their planning.
"Are you going to be alright?" Robb questioned, "I haven't seen you this nervous since your investiture."
"I'll be fine but this whole thing is so… intense."
"Right. Why are there so many songs and prayers? These things don't need to take up the whole morning."
"Dany said it used to be seventy-seven."
Robb let out a low whistle, "The sooner we're back north the better."
"I couldn't agree more."
A distant horn sounded, accompanied by rustling as the guests stood. Elia made her way down the center aisle, followed by his father and Catelyn, all of them appearing pleasantly pleased. Once they settled in their seats, Jon and Robb started down the short aisle between two of the giant statues, headed toward the altar resting between the Father and Mother. Topped with a white cloth, lit candles in varying colors, and clear crystals the altar sparkled just as much as everything else that morning.
A singular voice filled the airy space, bouncing off the stone walls and shimmering above their heads. The words landed foreign on Jon's ears but he didn't care to understand it, his attention focused straight ahead on the small procession of septons. They led the way for the more important religious leader, still hidden from view. Each of them carried a different token of the Faith, followed lastly by one with a censer of incense.
The High Septon, surrounded by the Most Devout and wearing an impressive set of light green and gold robes, paraded down the aisle. Tucked under one arm was a thick, illuminated tome, a tall scepter clutched in his other hand, and a crown of crystals adorned his head. They caught the light and threw it every which way, the spots of light dancing across the guests and statues. Once at the altar, he stood in front of it, watching and waiting for the rest of the participants.
For as bright and shining as every surface in the sept was, nothing compared to the radiant beauty of Dany as she made her way down the aisle. This time, she ditched the bride's cloak for the traditional veil, which concealed her face as Rhaegar led her down the aisle. The bouquet Dany carried spilled over her hands, tendrils of green reaching to the red-carpeted floor beneath.
The pure white of her dress acted as the perfect blank canvas for the colorful light to dance. Purples, blues, the occasional flash of red or yellow or green. As though she were a subject from one of the windows come to life and dancing among mortals. Jon's breath caught in his throat as all he could do was wait until their slow pace brought her closer.
The gaggle of noble children tailing Dany dispersed as Sansa took the very end of the intricate veil. Delicately embroidered along the edges appeared the heraldry of the south, so detailed and seamless it could go missed; Martell sun, Baratheon stag, Tyrell rose, Arryn falcon, Tully trout, and Lannister lion. And in the place of honor, stitched along the very bottom of the impressively long veil, appeared the Targaryen dragon and Stark direwolf. The mythological creatures faced each other, a foot raised as though prepared to make an agreement. A subtle symbolism.
She sank before the High Septon and turned to Jon when she rose. He took the edge of her veil in his hands, which were surprisingly sturdy, and turned it over. Dany wore Catelyn's tiara again, he noted, and as she raised her face to look at him he forgot how to breathe.
"Please be seated," the Septon encouraged.
"Hi," she whispered, voice uncharacteristically small and soft.
"Hi," he said, air returning to his lungs.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the court, we are gathered here today to, in the sight of Gods and men, to join Daenerys and Jon in the most sacred of unions," the High Septon preached from his place behind the altar.
"Their union is, of course, extraordinary. Not only are the Gods witnessing the joining of a man and a woman who so deeply love each other, but of two countries too long separated by imaginary lines and borders. We will begin with the lighting of the candles."
A septon ushered them to the altar in front of the towering statue of the Father and provided tall, thin candles meant to light a candle to each God, and say a quick prayer if they wished. But Jon didn't know what to ask from Gods he didn't know.
Luckily, the choir started another song in the dead language of Valyria, this time with a few more voices. And the High Septon talked over it all. Describing attributes and asking the Gods to provide them to Jon and Dany as they began their married life.
When they made it back to the altar, Dany whispered the number six to him. Meaning they had six more prayers, blessings, and or vows to make before they were free of the ceremony and crystalline sept.
"Seven almighty, creators of the heavens and earth, thank you for the gift of marriage, for all the joy and love that it brings us. We thank you for Daenerys and Jon. We thank you, that you have brought them together for this special day, and pray that you hold them safely in your hands. We pray that you would richly bless them as they exchange their vows and their wedding rings. And from this day forward they would walk hand in hand into everything that you have destined them to be. We give our hearts and beings to you now in adoration, and welcome Your Holy Spirits among us. Amen."
The guests echoed him.
"Join me, in the first blessing of this couple."
"May there always be work for your hands to do. May your purse always hold a coin or two. May the sun always shine upon your windowpane. May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain. May the hand of a friend always be near to you and may the Gods fill your heart with gladness to cheer you."
The guests echoed him once again, repeating the lines back in a general way. Finally, they were allowed to sit as Baelor's Blessed singers started their second song of the ceremony, once again in Valyrian.
Dany leaned to him, translating every line as it came. She didn't need to, Jon would be fine not knowing what was happening, but he liked hearing Dany say the words.
"Where charity and love are, the Gods are there. Love of them has gathered us into one. Let us rejoice in Them and be glad. Let us fear, and let us love the living Gods. And from a sincere heart let us love one another."
The septon stood and led them through another blessing. By this time, the sun sat high in the sky and beat down on the sept relentlessly. The guests fanned themselves and shifted as the humid air grew warmer, more and more stifling with each passing moment.
Finally, the High Septon invited them to rise and join hands and repeat after him.
"We swear by peace and love to stand-"
"We swear by peace and love to stand," Jon and Dany said in unison, not breaking their eye contact, smiling like idiots in love.
"Heart to heart and hand to hand."
"Heart to heart and hand to hand."
"Listen, spirits, and hear us now-"
"Listen, spirits, and hear us now."
"Confirming this our sacred vow."
"Confirming this our sacred vow."
They sat back down and the Septon launched into a long-winded speech about the sanctity of marriage and all it represented. How precious and delicate and holy. Would the southern Gods mind if those ideals were twisted for a political agenda? Clearly not as no great tragedy struck the sept or the earlier wedding.
Then again, perhaps they planned for him and Dany to meet this way. Thrust into each other's lives and faced with a choice: despise each other or get along. Yet, after much trial and error, they found an elusive third option and chose it. To fall for each other in spite of everything.
Perhaps the Gods planned that too. For the two of them to uncover a potential spark and decide what to do with it. And there they were, at yet another altar, making more life-long promises. At the time of their first wedding, their vows were nothing more than words in a cold wind. Blind, shallow statements uttered as a means to an end but not in total vanity. Dany was a friend and someone Jon didn't mind having around.
After the few weeks of touring around the southern kingdoms, something deeper grew, wrapping its strange roots around his heart and mind. Jon couldn't be sure if Dany thought the same thing, but as he repeated the words from the southern holy man, he meant them. He wanted to cherish her and their union until the Gods decided they were done. And even then he might defy their orders.
He looked to his wife, who sat attentively in her sparkling white ensemble. She noticed him and met his gaze with a bright smile. Jon kissed her knuckles and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She squeezed back, her way of telling him she understood.
Before he knew it, it was time for the official vows. They made their way back to the front of the colorful altar. With the rings distributed, the High Septon asked Jon to repeat after him until the lines formed the complete rites.
"I, Jon, take you, Daenerys, to be my wife. In your heart, I've found love. With you I am whole and alive. I am yours and you are mine- of this I am certain. I promise to give you my hand and heart and I promise to always lead with love. I promise to remain by your side regardless of what trouble befalls you, and I promise to remain steadfast and true from this day until the end of my days."
With the blessing of the High Septon, Jon finally brought his lips to Dany's.
No cheers came from their audience, only polite applause as the Septon started the last blessing. The sacred seventh.
"Gracious Gods, our hearts are filled with great happiness at this union between Daenerys and Jon. They came before you to pledge their lives and their hearts to one another. Grant that they may be ever true and loving, living together in such a way as to never bring heartbreak into their marriage. Temper their hearts with kindness and help guide them to be sweethearts, helpmates, friends and guides. And together, may they meet the cares and problems of life more bravely. May their homes truly be a place of love and harmony where your Spirits are ever present. Bless their wedding day, we pray, and walk beside them, through all their life together. Amen."
Another lone voice filled the air as they started to arrange themselves for the recessional and when the short song was done, the church bells overhead tolled. The ornate sept doors opened and revealed the hundreds of people crowded at the bottom of the steps. All of them cheered and waved, snapping pictures as the young couple climbed into a carriage for a quick turn around the old city as tradition required. Their hands remained clasped together the whole time.
"How do you feel?" Dany asked as they waited patiently for the driver to situate himself.
"Official. Like all of the boxes are finally checked, though the ceremony was terribly long."
Dany laughed, "Yes, His High Holiness is known to talk once he gets going. I think I liked our Godswood ceremony better."
"Snow and all?"
"Of course."
The carriage jerked, jolting them closer together. Their faces hovered close, Dany's eyes flickered from his to his lips, her own parting into a little smile. The cheers of the spectators faded as Jon pressed his lips to Dany's, lost in the sweet pressure and soft fit of their mouths together.
With a snap of the reins, the carriage started off. The waving and smiling came as less of a burden this time around.
