It was as cold as usual in the courtyard as Ned stood with his family waiting. Fortunately there was only the lightest and thinnest fall of snow, with no chance of adding much more to the already moderate layer of snow beneath Ned's feet, clad in hardened leather like the other men around him. It still stuck him like a brick whenever he thought of how recently he and others had more and more often began to refer to his son Bran as one of those men. And the boy himself was starting to think of himself as one more and more often too.
It had been only a few years since Ned and the rest of Winterfell had last seen Jon Snow; and yet, it felt as if nothing was the same anymore. The Stark children had grown up without their brother by their side. When Jon rode through the gates of this castle, he would not find the same family he left.
Ned stood in the centre of his family gathered in the centre of the courtyard, just as they had done when the late Robert Baratheon had visited, backs straight and jaws held high. Ned's eldest Robb had long ceased to struggle with the demands of manhood. He stood beside Ned now with his own beard, a dark red instead of his father's soft brown. Ned glanced at him to his left and allowed himself a small smile before turning back to stare at the gate. On Robb's left side, his own wife stood.
Dacey Mormont had been a good choice for Robb's bride. No southern alliances for him. Ned had summoned Dacey south to Winterfell to act as a companion for Arya. For some reason, Ned one day decided to simply allow Arya a mentor in the ways of weapons. Surprisingly Cat had agreed when she found out it would be the Mormont girl.
If Lady Mormont can prove herself in both a dress and in armour, then perhaps she can do the same for our daughter. It'll be the happiest thing for all of us. Such was Cat's answer when Ned had broached the idea to her. Arya had been grateful to both Cat and Ned ever since, just as they had both been grateful to Dacey from the moment she entered Winterfell. Arya had quickly become her eager disciple when she realised that Dacey had come to teach her the ways of a knight, not a lady. It did not seem to register in Arya's mind when she suddenly became more willing to wear dresses in order to imitate her living idol. Her happiness was guaranteed for the future when she learnt Dacey would become her new sister.
Ned and Cat liked to pretend that they had had no ulterior motives in inviting Dacey to live with their children. Dacey's mother also liked to pretend she had had never given consent to a potential marriage between her daughter and the Stark heir. Both parties liked to pretend it was simply a sweet convenience that Robb and Dacey managed to charm one another so easily within the latter's first few months in Winterfell.
Ned was broken from his fond reminiscing of his son's betrothal and marriage by the sound of horns being blown from afar. He and the rest of the gathering in the courtyard turned to look towards the main gate, already opened to safe time. Whilst the Starks stood in the centre with their closest retainers and loved ones, the rest of Winterfell's population did their best to cram themselves into the yard for a good view of the returning Lord Wolfram.
Only a few minutes passed before the horns blasted again, this time louder. They were quickly followed by the first appearance Jon's followers. The already infamous alliance of Wildling barbarians and lapsed black brothers.
The first to ride through the gates were several dozen mounted men and - to the surprise of a few - women riding through into the courtyard. They moved quickly clear the entrance, doing their best to line themselves up to side in an orderly manner. Ned realised they compared poorly to the discipline and expertise of the Baratheon and Lannister men-at-arms who had visited years ago. These wildlings have much to learn about southern etiquette, he mused thoughtfully.
He assumed they were Wildlings by their long hair and the cloaks of fur and animal hide many of them wore. They could just have easily been black brothers had they not stood out by their decision to retain their black cloaks. Clearly Jon had had no time to deck out his following with a uniformed livery. The men and women were at least clad in typical Northern fashion - south of the Wall that is - with thick tunics, leggings and boots. The Starks would no doubt have marvelled at the sight of numerous strangers clad in naught but furs.
At the head of the horsemen was a young man, supposedly a former black brother given his cloak, with longish dark hair a pretty face. He seemed to be of a n age with Jon and yet he also appeared to be comfortable in charge of the riders around, as they fell into line quicker at his barked commands.
As the last of the horsemen and women moved away from the gate it suddenly gave way to the two people Ned and his family had all been the most eager and reluctant to see.
Riding through the gate, with his back straight, his head held high, came Jon Snow and his future wife.
The breath that Ned had been taking in froze in his nose and mouth as he took in the sight of his son for the first time in years. He was clad in the black of the Night's Watch, his boots and tunic being the exception. The boots were a fine brown leather, matching the pairs worn by Ned's family and knights. His tunic was a deep grey, with almost no ornamentation apart from the fur-lined high collar and cuffs. His cloak, leggings, and belts were pure black however. Ned could spot a ball of white poking out from his cloak which, as Jon rode closer, revealed itself to be a sword hilt.
Jon's face had changed radically from his last days in Winterfell. The boy that Benjen had taken away to the Wall had been clean shaven for the King's visit, his hair trimmed so that it only fell to his cheeks. Now Jon sported a black mane of hair that hung down to his jaw. It looked washed but untouched by luxury to make it look curled or smooth. His jaw was now covered in a thick but neat black beard, which extended over his neck and into a moustache and connected by sideburns to his hair.
All in all, Jon looked every inch a Northerner. As did his betrothed. His future wife. Val was her name, that was what Jon's letter had said.
Although Ned had failed to last a year without betraying his marriage oaths to Cat, ever since he returned from Robert's war he had been entirely faithful to her. Not just in body but also in intent. From his early adolescence he had hoped he would be a good husband and schooled himself to be so. Jon's birth and upbringing had encouraged to school himself even harder. For all the years of trying to resist even thinking of women that were not his Cat however, when he saw Jon's lady Ned once more felt like the young man who did not know if he would last another day and for that reason allowed himself to fall into desperate lust.
Of course Jon's future wife drew all the Starks' eyes to her as she entered. They had all been eager, if begrudgingly so, to see who was the Wilding princess and future member of their house. What managed to widen their eyes however was her beauty but much more so her presence. Whilst they noted her flowing golden tresses of hair, her great height visible even as she bestrode her horse, what they noticed far more was the look in her eyes and the strength in her bearing.
Her entire being seemed to shout out her dignity and status. Yet she was still just another wildling girl whose sister had married a great man. Those were the words with which Jon had described her in his letter to Ned.
The couple rode deeper into the courtyard until they were halfway to the Starks. At that moment they stopped to allow two former black brothers to rush forward from behind them, with as much dignity as they could, and grabbed their reins for them. Jon dismounted first before assisting his betrothed, who seemed as if she would have happily gotten down herself had she not been following the etiquette of the South.
Once they had both dismounted Jon and the woman joined hands and slowly, with a surprising amount of grace, given who they were, began to stride across the mud towards Ned. He stared straight at them as they came close, almost refusing to dare to take his eyes of them. They were so much to take in that Ned wanted to get the best look at them possible before he had to speak to them. Everything about them, from Jon's beard to Val's beauty was a splash of ice cold water in the face, and Ned was feeling almost sick from the nerves that came over him.
Suddenly Jon and Val were standing before him and his family. Ned tried to hide the stormy mix of emotions overwhelming him at that moment. If his face betrayed anything, Jon and Val showed no sign they had noticed. Jon's face was a blank slate of stoicism, as if he too was trying to betray nothing. Val on the other hand seemed entirely comfortable with where she was, as if she was meeting her neighbours for the hundredth time.
Ned dared not look to his side to see the reactions of his family. It would be rude and beneath his manners as a lord to take his eyes of his guests at such a moment. He also did not want to see what on earth Catelyn's expression was at this moment. For a few moments there was only awkward silence between the Stark family and their newly returned baseborn son.
Finally, Jon broke the silence.