Chapter 16: 'Til The End

Today, Sansa would be taking her destiny into her hands. Her body hummed with excitement. She stood, in her dressing gown, looking out of the window of her bedchamber. The winter thaw continued. Sansa watched as the ice melted from the branches of the trees outside her windows. It wasn't very warm today, but it wasn't as cold as it had been during the approach of the Night King. Those days leading up to the battle had been the coldest in her living memory. The snow had risen so high outside of her windows that it had impeded her view of the horizon. But since the end of the Great War, the thick blanket of snow that had covered the ground had thinned considerably. Today the sky was a bright blue, and clear. There were very few clouds, and you could see far across the horizon, your view unimpeded. She stood in her dressing gown, nursing a warm copper cup of mulled wine. A handmaiden had just finished braiding her thick, auburn hair into a braided crown that sat regally atop her head, and was studded with rubies, pearls and gold hairpins. Today, she was to be married.

A chambermaid entered into her room, and seemed to be waiting for some direction from her.

"M'lady," the young woman with dark hair, and fat pink cheeks was staring at Sansa now, "I'm here to help you into your dress."

"Yes," Sansa thought, the dress. Sansa had her dressmaker put together a simple, elegant, off white dress for her. It was in a thick, warm fabric, with a sculpted bodice, and a high collar at the neck and it had buttons down the back that were alternating silver wolves, and gold lions. She wore long white gloves underneath the long sleeves of the dress. She had her cobbler make her a pair of off white, silk wedding slippers embroidered with lions and wolves in a swirling pattern of red and gold thread. To shield her from the cold of the godswood, she had a fluffy, white rabbit fur capelet made. She stared at herself now in the full length mirror that sat in the corner of her room. The young, plump maid stood behind her, as she studied herself in the mirror.

"You look beautiful m'lady." Her handmaiden beamed with pride.

Sansa's heart was beating so fast that she felt like she could hear it inside her head. It was like a drum beat. She donned her white rabbit fur capelet, and made her way to the entrance to the Godswood. As she stood at the doorway, she could see Jon waiting there for her. He was standing with his Queen, her silver hair gleaming in the winter sun. Her sister, Arya was there as well, and Ser Brienne. She noticed that Ser Brienne was locked hand in hand with Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. Bran sat directly in front of the weirwood tree at the heart of the Godswood.

The Godswood always felt old, and primal, and mythic. There were acres and acres of forest that had been untouched by the hands of either man or woman for thousands of years. Here, in the North, the godswood was as hardy, and as ancient as the bloodlines of its people. Sansa felt as if her footsteps disappeared into the earth beneath her feet. In the Godswood, the earth was moist and covered in a dense carpet of spent leaves, and a canopy of twisted branches loomed overhead protectively. In the center of the Godswood there was a deep, black pool of water that reflected the faces of those who came to pray and worship. And in its center, sat the heart tree itself, huge, and old and ancient. Tyrion and Jon stood by the heart tree, facing it, and Sansa thought that they seemed to look like children in front of the ancient tree. Her guests looked towards her as she walked to the center of the Godswood.

The Heart Tree had always fascinated Sansa. It's stark, white bark reminded her of winter, and its dark red hand shaped leaves reminded her of blood. As she looked at the blood red leaves of the tree, she thought back to the first time that she got her moonblood, the thing that "made her a woman." She was about to be made a woman anew. As she reached the center of the wood, she stood completely still. She was now standing side by side with Jon. He looked at her, and leaned in close to ask her, "Are you sure you want to do this?" This seemed a late moment to be asking that question, but she nodded her head "Yes."

Bran looked at them now, asking, "Who comes before the gods tonight?"

Jon answered, "Sansa of the House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes with the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Tyrion answered, "Tyrion, of House Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock. Who gives her?"

Jon stepped forward saying, "Jon, of the House Stark, who is her brother and protector."

Bran addressed the entire wedding party now, saying, "We gather here, in the sight of gods and men to bear witness between Lady Sansa of House Stark and Lord Tyrion of House Lannister.

Jon took out a length of ribbon and bound Sansa and Tyrion's hands together, before stepping back to stand beside his queen. Sansa watched as he gently squeezed her hand.

Bran then said to Sansa and Tyrion, "Look upon each other and say the words."

Sansa turned towards Tyrion, looking into his eyes, and said "I am his and he is mine, from this day, until the end of my days."

Tyrion looked up at her, his eyes probing hers, and then said "I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days."

From that moment, everything became a blur. She remembered the smiles of her sister and brothers, even Bran seemed to smile slightly. After the ceremony, they retired to the great hall for a wedding feast.

The feast was a modest affair. They had wine, and a simple feast of roasted meats, and a selection of sweet things. Before long, Sansa began to think that people were anxiously waiting for them to retire to their bedchambers. For the night of their wedding, the household servants had made sure to make the rooms as comfortable for them as possible. Sansa sat next to Tyrion at the center of the long table, where her mother and father used to sit, when they had special guests. When Sansa began to look anxious, Tyrion grabbed hold of her hand beneath the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. He leaned over towards her, "Are you ready to retire Sansa? Just say the words."

She looked at him then, and gave a small nod. The day had been eventful. She was ready to retire. They rose from the table together. Tyrion let her take the lead. She walked ahead, and he followed close behind her, and they made their way from the hall, closing the heavy ironwood doors behind them. Sansa couldn't help but feel like every eye in the hall was on her as they left. But she didn't care.