Still don't own anything, but sometime I really wish I did...This chapter is why the story is rated M, some smutty goodness a little further on...
It had taken nearly two months for all the preparations to be completed. As soon as he was able to will himself from Josslyn's arms, Bran had written to her father, cursing the slow speed at which the raven flew off. It was nearly two weeks before Josslyn was able to get out of bed, but Bran spent every second he could with her, spending each night holding her for fear she would disappear again. He watched her grow stronger, watched each day as the bruises faded leaving her skin smooth and creamy once more. One night he'd sat there and listened as she told Arya and Sansa of what had happened when she left Winterfell. Sansa cried, and Bran knew that she was remembering her own torment at the hands of the bastard king. Arya listened stone faced until Josslyn told them of how she'd killed four of the men, and she laughed,
"I knew you were meant to be a Stark," she winked. At night sometimes Josslyn would wake from a nightmare, and it would rip Bran's heart apart to know that she'd ever been hurt, and vowed to make her laugh every day until the day he died. When he finally got her father's response, he was overjoyed. The letter said that by the time he received it they would already be making their way to Winterfell, and to make any preparations they wanted, that the money meant nothing and Josslyn could have anything her heart desired. Sansa squealed in joy at this idea, and began once again, to go overboard. Josslyn tried to insist that she didn't need a huge wedding, but to Sansa it didn't matter. The invitations were sent, and everyone in Casterly Rock and the North were invited, as well as several others that Bran knew Josslyn would want there.
Josslyn's parents, Jason and Christine Lannister arrived three weeks after Bran had received Lord Jason's letter. Lady Lannister ran and embraced her daughter, and Bran saw that Josslyn barely kept from wincing from her still healing ribs. Lord Jason strode directly to Bran and shook his hand, and Bran liked the man instantly. He had the look of a Lannister, spun gold hair, tan with piercing green eyes, but was exactly like Josslyn in his manner. Lady Christine had a strange lilt to her voice, but looked so much like Josslyn that half the men in Winterfell were in love on sight. Josslyn's younger brother, Tyrion, was very much like her, slightly wild with a very sharp wit, but his twin sister, Rossalyn was exactly like Sansa, the epitome of a proper lady, who seemed annoyed by her siblings antics.
Dinners were a loud affair, filled with laughter. Josslyn would still sit at the foot of the table with the children, leaving the Lady's chair vacant until the children were sent to bed, and she would join Bran, holding his hand tightly. Bran would see her to her room, every night, and kiss her hand, playing the part of the perfect gentlemen. But as soon as he knew the castle was asleep, he would steal down the halls and into her room, where she would be laying with Summer and Winter, waiting for him.
So many nights they would just lay and talk until the sun came up, and as the two went to dine with the family, Sandor would make some remark about how tired they looked, until Sansa would slap him in the arm. Some nights they would just sleep, understanding that propriety dictated that they not share a bed until they were married, but not wanting to spend even one night away from the other. The only thing that kept Bran from taking her to bed, was knowing that he would be able to soon enough, though his lust filled dreams had returned and each time he woke pressing his length against Josslyn's hip she would blush crimson.
Winterfell sung with the sounds of too many house guests. Those that they couldn't house in the massive castle, we housed in the nearest inns, but even the inns were overflowing and a series of tents and pavilions had been erected just beyond the walls of the castle.
"You're sister really has gone overboard," Josslyn said as they looked out among the tents that lay just beyond the walls of Winterfell.
"It's your wedding, love," Bran laughed "You could have said no."
"Oh, why deny her the pleasure," Josslyn waved a dismissive hand. "It's the last wedding she'll have a hand in planning until her own children have grown." Bran smiled. His sisters had taken to calling her sister even though they were not yet married, and for that he couldn't be happier. They continued to gaze into the horizon, until they could most certainly make out the shape of three massive dragons getting closer.
Together they hurried down the walls and outside the gates of Winterfell accompanied by Summer and Winter, who had warmed to human companionship, but was still a bit aloof and hardly tolerated anyone outside of Josslyn and Bran.
The queen landed a quarter of a mile out, and they stood in silence as they watched the crowds gather in the North to see the queen. Bran smiled brightly when he saw Jon walking just behind Daenerys approached her hair long and tingling with many bells that Joslsyn had told him was a Dothraki tradition, each bell representing a different battle won.
Bran bowed as best he could when the queen approached. "Lord Stark," Daenerys smiled all grace an beauty. "It's very pleasant to see you again, and for your wedding even. You brother here feared you might not ever take a wife." Bran grimaced slightly but Josslyn laughed at his side.
"Your Grace," she said with a curtsey. Daenerys smiled and pulled Josslyn into a hug.
"It's been too long without you at court," the queen smiled releasing Josslyn from her arms. "But I fear now that I'll have to go much longer without you."
"Yes, your grace," Josslyn smiled. "But you do have your dragons, which do make for fast travel, and I think you will always be welcome in the North."
"All gentility Joss," the queen laughed. "Come now, I'm tired and would hear of your adventures here in the wild that has so captivated you." The queen gave a knowing smile to Bran and the pair left, speaking in rapid Dothraki, followed only by the queen's blood riders.
As soon as she was gone, Jon ran forward and embraced his brother. "Where is everyone?" Jon asked with a happy smile, clearly impatient to see his siblings after being away for so long.
"Inside," Bran winked. "Come on." The reunion of the Starks was full of tears and laughter. They spent the day laughing at speaking of the old days, before their father had gone to King's Landing and their family fell apart. They spoke of their father and mother, and of dear Robb, all long dead and burried beneath the ground at Winterfell. Bran realized that Winterfell hadn't been this full of laughter or Starks in so long, and he knew a large part of it was his Josslyn's doing.
That night dinner was an odd affair. Josslyn had given her seat to Daenerys and sat at the foot with the children, translating the stories the Dothraki told. Eddard was particularly enthralled by the Dothraki, who's stories were more gruesome than most. By the end of the night, he proclaimed he'd become a blood rider to the queen, which seemed to please the Dothraki.
Bran saw Josslyn back to her room, smiling slyly the whole way. "I know that look," Josslyn said with a roll of her eyes.
"What do you mean?" Bran asked feigning innocence.
"That's the look you get when you're not telling me something," Josslyn narrowed her eyes and Bran couldn't help by laugh.
"Just a surprise for tomorrow, my love," he said pulling her into his lap and kissing her. Just then, her door opened behind her, and a grumpy Sansa stood framed by the door.
"Not tonight brother," Sansa said with a smile and Bran winced, she knew about his nightly visits to Josslyn's room.
"Until tomorrow," Bran said and he raked a kiss across her knuckles.
"She'll be the one in the bridal gown," Arya called laughing from inside the bedroom. Josslyn gave him a slightly sad look, but he smiled. And left her there in the care of his sisters. That night Bran hardly slept. If it wasn't dreams, it was excitement. When he finally did sleep, he dreamed of a lion that kept turning into a dire wolf, into Winter. When dawn finally broke, his brothers came to greet him, laughing and jesting about the wedding night to come.
The day was agonizingly long, but at noon, he was in the godswood. The wood was too small for all the people who had turned up, but that didn't matter. When he finally saw Josslyn, everything melted away, the guests, the fighting, everything. She was radiant, in a gown of ivory with grey pearls sewn into the bodice and the sleeves. Bran smiled slyly again as she approached him, her hard resting lightly on the crook of her father's arm. Shakily, and with a hand from Gendry, Bran stood, the poles that supported his legs locking into place, just as Josslyn said they would. He heard the gathered crowd gasp in surprise, but he had eyes only for her. She smiled, tears of joy pricking the corners of her beautiful green eyes. When she reached him, he extended his hand, and she looked up at him. Tommen was going on about duty and honor, but Bran didn't hear a damn word. A red ribbon was wrapped around their joined hands, and Bran's hands trembled as he removed her crimson Lannister cloak, replacing it for the grey of the Starks.
"What we have bound here," Tommen's voice rang out over the gods wood, "Let no man or woman tear apart." And it was done, she was his, she was Lady Josslyn Stark of Winterfell. Josslyn Stark, he thought as he drew her in for a kiss, That has a beautiful ring to it. With a practiced gesture, he released the lock on the poles along his legs, and sank back into his chair, wishing he could pull he wife into his lap, but they had a duty to do now.
The feast was excruciatingly long, for Bran's tastes. He wondered why they would have such a cruel tradition when all a new husband wanted to do was be alone with his wife. This time Bran gave his seat to the queen, moving down one seat further so that he could still be near his Josslyn. Course after course was brought out, and the guests inside the hall and outside in the courtyard ate until everyone was stuffed. Even more painful for him was the long line of well wishers that approached the table.
He clutched Josslyn's hand, her mere presence giving him the patience he needed to deal with the four hundred people that approached the dais and wished them long happy lives. Lords Karstark and Bolton, pretended to be devastated at the loss of such an eligible young maiden, but Bran suspected behind their bravado was some genuine sadness that she was no longer available to court. Lord Umber eventually approached with sad puppy eyes.
"Lord Umber," Josslyn said with a bright smile, "Have you met my siblings, My brother Tyrion and my sister Rossalyn." Bran had to choke on his laughter at Josslyn's emphasis of sister. Umber turned his gaze to bow politely to the twins and his sad eyes grew excited when they fell of the young Rossalyn.
"You did that on purpose," Bran whispered into her ear. Josslyn laughed prettily.
"Of course," she whispered back. "No way to heal a broken heart but to find yourself in love." Bran grabbed her hand and kissed it, happy when she shivered in response. When tradition dictated that they dance, Josslyn gracefully offered the honor to the queen, who asked Jon to accompany her. Bran watched with some fascination as his brother spun the queen around the floor, noticing the furtive glances they shot each other and the whispers that they shared.
"Is there something going on there?" Bran asked her, but she just smiled and returned her attention to the pair on the dance floor. That was all the answer Bran needed. Poor Jon, he thought. The queen left almost as soon as the dance was over, telling the new couple that she had to return on urgent business, but she had told Jon to stay as long as he'd like. Bran definitely didn't miss the look of longing his brother shot the queen as she left trailed by her blood riders.
Josslyn danced with a few people but always returned to his side as quickly as she could without being rude. Bran couldn't have been more grateful. He had thought that he would have tried to stand on the dance floor with her with the use of the clever braces, but his entire body ached from the excursion in the gods woods and decided it was better not to try.
Sandor appeared at their side, and with a smile, hefted Josslyn over his shoulder as he would have a sack of flour and called for the bedding. Sansa hated this tradition, but it was expected and had warned Bran they would be carried to their room and then promptly left alone. The gathered audience roared in laughter and then doubled over as Josslyn kicked Sandor hard in the belly, making him flinch and grimace slightly. His sisters saw Bran to the room he was to be sharing with Josslyn and saw her already waiting for him. The door was slammed behind him and he heard Sandor begin to shoo away the crowd that had already form eager to listen.
Bran stared at his wife and saw that she was tense and thoroughly embarrassed. He extended a hand to her and she took it pulling herself to perch on his lap, as she had done a thousand times before. Bran leaned in and kissed her neck sweetly, "We don't have to do anything yet if you're not ready." The words killed him to say, he wanted her, wanted to see her gloriously naked before him, wanted to feel her wet warm walls clench around him as he'd dreamed so many times before, but he wouldn't if she wasn't ready. He still had no idea, fully what the Raiders had done to her.
As if in response she blushed an alluring shade of crimson, and pressed her lips to his, lightly licking his lips. Bran eagerly opened his mouth and her tongue darted in, wrestling with his own, as his nimble fingers worked the ribbons that held her gown together. He got frustrated and simply ripped the ribbons away, Josslyn's gown falling to her waist. He pulled back from her kiss, eyeing her hungrily. Her breasts were large, full and perky, and he eagerly took one into his hand, his thumb whisking over an already taught nipple. Josslyn moaned and shifted to straddle him in his chair, but he had other ideas.
He pushed them to the bed, pulling the flowing gown over her hips as he moved, and lifted her on to the bed, before pulling himself beside her, noticing for the first time that she had worn nothing beneath the gown. She was finally naked in front of him, and he stared at her, growing hard at the sight of her tiny little body on his bed. His hands moved along her sides and he took one of her breasts into his mouth, earning a hiss of pleasure from his wife.
When his hands reached her thighs she moaned, and he lost all conscious thought, bringing a calloused hand to caress the inside of her thigh drifting ever closer to where he truly wanted to be. His own breath was ragged as he switched to her other breast lavishing all the same attention that he had the first one, swirling his tongue around her nipple. He could feel the dark nest of curls that hid her nether lips from him, and parted them, finding her already slightly damp opening and inserting a finger. Instinctively she bucked against his hand, drawing him farther, causing all the blood to rush to his aching groin.
With his thumb he began to wind slow circles around the nub of highly sensitive flesh, earning a startled cry of pleasure from Josslyn. His lips began to trace their way back up her chest, nipping at her collar bone, before finding their way back to her lips. He could tastes the sweet sweat already forming on her body, from the ministrations of his fingers, and her constant whimpers and moans, were a song to his ears that he never wanted to be without. He inserted a second finger into her, joining the first, stretching her, making her ready, and began to feel her trembling walls begin to contract with the beginnings of her orgasm.
He pressed a little harder and faster on her nub, and earned a scream of unexpected pleasure, as her walls began to milk his fingers. He kissed her lightly, lovingly as she began to come down from her unexpected high. Her sweat covering her body, and the dampness between her thighs, and his name on her lips were all too much for him to bear, and he rolled her on top of him, he tore off his own shirt and she greedily unlaced his breaches, all nervousness and hesitation gone from her.
Josslyn pulled his pants from his body throwing them from the bed in haste. And he hissed as the cold air hit his hard member. It was Josslyn's turn to study him naked, and she shyly focused on the one part of his anatomy that so desperately wanted her attention. She bit her lip, suddenly nervous again, but she straddled his hips none the less, leaning down to kiss and nip at his neck as he'd done her own. He had very little movement in his hips, but he bucked none the less, earning moan of pleasure, and an overwhelming desire to sheath himself inside her.
Bran pushed himself up so that he was sitting, the tips of her hard nipples brushing his chest, and pulled her into kiss him, as his hand found it's way back between her legs. She let out a cry of pleasure as he positioned himself at her entrance, and she began to lower herself onto his length, panting slow inch by excruciatingly slow inch. Suddenly he reach a barrier inside her, and was overjoyed to know that he was her first and her only. He pulled away from her kiss and stared deep into her lovely green eyes, and saw that once again she was nervous and scared, biting her lip.
"It's going to hurt love," he purred in her ear. "You may want to take it slow." But his last word was a howl of pleasure as she suddenly pulled up on his length and drove herself down onto him, breaking her maidenhead. She cried out in pain and tensed, as soon as he was fully inside of her, and Bran pulled his wife closer, holding her, whispering of his love for her, kissing her tears away, until she finally relaxed in his arms. She pulled up again, causing Bran to groan, and thrust down, over and over, each time the pain etched in her face giving way to pleasure.
His hands dug into her hips guiding them, showing her how to move, to roll her hips to increase her pleasure, and soon again, she was panting on top of him thrusting in wild abandon. He was nearing his pleasure too quickly. He had wanted her for so long that now that she was his he couldn't contain himself. He reached between her legs with one hand and began to stroke her slick nub, hearing her breath hitch more before her moans turned into screams of pleasure and he lost himself in bliss right along with her, her walls now milking the seed from him, pulling it deep in to her belly.
When they both came down, he remained inside of her, though he was spent and softening, just wanting to be close to her. He ghosted his nose along the side of her neck, placing kisses every so often as her breathing returned to her. Her hands cupped his cheeks, and pulled his lips to hers, into the most love filled kiss he thought might have ever been had. He pulled her down on top of him as he lay back, sad when he slipped from inside of her, but more content than he'd ever been in his life when she laid her head on his shoulder and they drifted off to sleep together.
Bran couldn't seem to get enough of her that night, nor she of him. He awoke to find her hands on him, urging him hard so that they could go again. Bran awoke late in the night, harder than he had ever been in his life, and rolled her over, thrusting as hard as he could into her, before she took over as if by instinct. Their voices were mingled cries of pleasure, and when they were spent, they fell asleep in a warm temporarily sated embrace.
Josslyn didn't want to leave their room the next morning, but despite her protests and attempts to get him back into bed, the washed, another lovely tryst as they shared a bath, and dressed, descending the winding halls of Winterfell to find a large group gathered in the dining hall making crude comments and inquiries about their night of passion. They scarcely finished eating, when Bran ghosted his hand up her thigh beneath the table and they disappeared for the majority of the day.
That night, when she slept naked in his arms, he stared at the woman who had taught him how to be happy again. He studied every curve of her body, every twist in her hair, tussled from their love making, every inch of skin, her scent, though now it was mingled so beautifully with his own. He closed his eyes, content and happy for the first time in twenty years, and only had one thought on his mind, Mine.
So I threw in a little Jon/Dany love for people who enjoy it, though I have my own theories about Jon's actual parentage is and I'll just say it's not Ned. Hope you enjoyed the smut, it's only the second time I've written a lemon and I'm still trying to get used to it. Got one last chapter to come, just a really short epilogue to show that there will always be Starks in Winterfell.