Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun.
Book 2
Chapter One-Hundred and Twenty-One
There were snowflakes gently falling down from the sky and coating the ground with a soft blanket that seemed to soften the world and made it so very beautiful, perfect for a wedding and Jon was not sure how he had gained such good fortune to have a perfect day to be wed on, and to a perfect woman as well. His life was like something out of a song, and he had been taught to never take any of it for granted for even a single moment.
After all if things had been different then he imagined that he could have been left out in the cold, with nothing to his name and he would not have blamed anyone if they had abandoned him. The man who had sired him upon his mother was not an easy subject to speak of for those that Jon Stark loved the most, Brandon Stark had been a wastrel from what little knowledge he had been able to gather about the man.
He wondered how many brothers and sisters he might have, he knew off at least one sister and one brother somewhere across the narrow sea who had been fathered on Lady Ashara Dayne, the woman who Brandon Stark had forsaken his true and noble wife for, but if even half of what he had heard about the man that he was unfortunate enough to be sired by was true then there could be dozens more through out the Seven Kingdoms, with bastard last names.
He had tried to find them, if they existed but there were plenty of bastards through out the Seven Kingdoms and while some had claimed to be fathered by Brandon Stark there was no way to tell if they had spoken the truth about it. He knew that there were some, if by their own nature or by other's intervention, would try and lie to rise higher in the world.
But he still had not stopped looking even when his own mother had asked him not to, he had been cast off when he was nothing more than a babe and he had been born on the right side of the sheets. By all the rules that the high lords of Westeros lived their lives by he should have been loved and accepted, a trueborn son and heir that should have been his father's greatest treasure.
But he wasn't, it was by his mother's love and the compassion and generosity of those around him that had kept him from being cast out into the cold. But if Brandon Stark did have bastards out there in the world then who did they have in the world? Well, he would ensure that they had him if nothing else and he would not turn his back on any of them, even those that had proven to be liars he had forgiven them and gave them some coin, who knew what hardships they had endured?
Jon reached up to brush a gentle dusting of snow flakes off of his shoulder before he made his way back inside the main keep of Winterfell where his chambers had been ever since he had first came to Winterfell when he was a little boy. It was decide when he was still a babe that part of the dead that had been made between House Tully and House Stark that he would spend half of every year within the walls of Winterfell so he could learn what it meant to rule the North as the lord of House Stark.
He had managed to meet his Grandfather once before he had passed on, Lord Rickard Stark had seemed half a giant to him even though he was confined to his bed and it had taken all that he had not to runaway and hide.
"I suppose that he will do," the man had grumbled, his voice sounded like it was full of gravel and he closed his eyes and dismissed him. He was dead come the morning, the maester had told them that his heart had finally failed him in the middle of the night and Benjen Stark had been Lord of Winterfell ever since and Jon had learned what it meant to be a true and honourable man from him whilst he was in the north, while in the south he learned from the king and Lord Arryn.
The north was to be home forever from now on, it occurred to him that he would most likely not see many of the people he loved the most for years once the wedding was done and they returned to the south and that thought made him slow his steps, if just for a moment. It would be hard to bear but the thought of the woman who was soon to be his lady wife cheered him.
Minisa and he were luckier than most he realised, most marriages to strengthen bonds between houses and to ensure peace were arranged affairs where the bride and the groom barely knew one another but he had known Minisa since she had came into the world and the two of them had explored Winterfell together, hand in hand and he had taught her how to play come-in-to-my-castle in the godswood and it was between them both that they had their first kiss.
He was so distracted by the thoughts of his soon-to-be wife that he did not notice the ambush until it was too late.
Something collided with his legs and Jon tilted back to the point that he nearly fell over, when he glanced down a fond smile crossed his features. "And what are you doing away from your Lady Mother, cousin? If something were to happen to you then she would bring the castle down with wails."
"Mama is with Mini and I got bored," Janna Stark said with a grin, her eyes were bright as she looked up at him. "It was all talk about dresses and feasts and no-one was talking to me! When is the wedding going to be over? It's all anyone is talking about anymore."
"Everyone has been waiting for this for a very long time, little one, and I know that I have," He reached down to scoop Janna into his arms and pressed a kiss to her nearest cheek. "And besides, aren't you happy that after Minisa and I say our vows in the godswood I am going to stay here for more than half a year? We can play a lot more hide and seek!"
"I suppose so," the little girl admitted with a shrug of her shoulders but there was still a pout on her face, only natural he supposed, considering that she was the youngest of the family and thus was used to having all of the attention focused on to her. "You are going to stay? Forever?"
"Forever," he promised her and placed her back down on the ground when he spotted Lady Lysa's maid, Bette, coming around the corner. "I think your mother has noticed you were gone, little one."
"Indeed she has, my lord," Bette spoke as she approached and reached out to take hold of Janna's hand. "And she wants you to come back at once, my lady. You do not want to miss your sister's wedding breakfast after all!"
Janna let out a heavy sigh but did not fight to go with the old maid, mainly because Jon promised her that if she behaved then he would sneak her more pieces of sweet treats than either of her parents would normally allow.
Once both of them were out of sight, Jon continued on to his destination; quarters had been assigned for the royal party within the main keep but one of it's halls had been given for them to have for the wedding breakfast; there were two in point of fact, one for the groom and one for the bride where they would both receive individual gifts from the members of both their parties before getting gifts for the both of them at the actual wedding feast.
He was just in time for the start of his own meal; he had woken an hour or so before dawn to go to the godswood to pray. He had prayed to chalk drawings of the Seven that he had brought up from the south before he had gone to bed the night before, he held both of them dear in his heart, and he hoped that both would be able to bless him, Minisa and their union.
As the meal was for him he had the place of honour in the middle of the table, with his mother sitting to the left of him and Lord Arryn at his right. The meal began simply with a bowl of porridge, sweetened with honey and topped with sliced almonds that had come from Dorne; alongside it were pitchers of sweet milk and platers of fruit.
Once he had finished his bowl of porridge the first round of gift giving began; his mother had the right to give the first gift. He had heard so much of how Lady Catelyn suffered and survived and the marks of that suffering could be seen on her, there was more silver than red in her hair now, and Jon had always been terrified as a little boy that his mere presence was causing her more pain.
But all she had ever shown him was love, like any of the sons she had given birth to since him. Lady Catelyn rose from her chair and walked around the table until she stood before him. "You are my son, I love you more deeply than anything you could ever know. When you hold your first child, you will understand."
Her eyes were wet as she passed him a new cloak made from bear fur. A dozen pairs of new gloves and three pairs of new boots, "It has been a long time since I've been in the North but I always remembered it as being very cold, and I was right. So be sure to keep warm, for me."
"I will Mother, I promise," he said, giving her a warm smile as he took the gifts from her readily; his Mother bent her head and made her way back to her seat as Lord Arryn took place to give his gift.
His gift was only one, but Jon could not see how any other gift would ever be able to surpass it; it was a dagger with a blade of silver and an ivory hilt which was carved into the shape of a falcon's head with chips of sapphires for eyes. It was a beautifully made gift but that was not why he loved it so; he loved it so much more for what it actually meant that Lord Arryn had it made for him, the sigil of his house so proudly present where anyone could see.
It meant that he was his son, not in name or in blood but in the ways that mattered. How many high lords would allow their wife to bring a child from their first marriage to live within their halls, even more so one tainted by scandal that some saw as little better than a bastard? Seeing how bastards had been treated throughout the Seven Kingdoms had taught him that Jon Arryn was one of only a few men who would, outside Dorne at least.
"Mine own forge created this knife," Lord Arryn spoke as he held the knife out for him to take; the old man had a fond smile on his face. "The sapphire chips are cuttings from the largest and most precious sapphire within the vaults of the Eyrie, a small gift but a practical one as you can always find a use for a knife."
It took all Jon had not to burst into tears, but he knew that he had to even when he was in front of those with whom he spent most of his with. He took in a deep breath and reached out to take the knife, holding it up so that the silver of the blade could catch the light before he sheathed it in the dark red leather holder that had come with it before he spoke, hoping his voice was steady and the meaning behind his words was clear. "Thank you my Lord, and I have never been more grateful for such a gift."
"A small thing, and nothing less than you deserve, dear boy," Lord Arryn took his place back at his side and patted his shoulder as he sat down, and the second course of breakfast was brought out, which Jon was very grateful for as it meant that there was a distraction enough for him to quickly wipe at his eyes, knowing that his mother and Lord Arryn would not betray him.
The servants brought them oatcakes with pieces of candied apple and dates in bowls with thick cream, Jon only had a bit of that, and he found that his teeth were aching to ache from the sweetness of the dishes so far and so he was very glad when the next serving was some fried fish, onions fried with ginger and pepper from Dorne and oatbread fresh from the oven which Jon had two slices of with butter smeared atop them.
It was then the King's turn to give his gift, and when he rose and stepped towards the table on the dais, Jon had to fight the urge not to rise to his feet, even more so as the rest of the hall did so, but Jon knew that it was part of the tradition in the North that every man was a king on his wedding day and so it was expected for him to stay sat down but that did not make it easier to do.
Eddard Stark was not a tall man, but even without his crown on his brow, he simply demanded respect, and his gift was a longsword in a black leather sheath. "It is no Valyrian Steel blade, but it is sharp enough on its own. Use it to defend those you love, Winter is Coming, and you must be ready for it; we all must."
"Winter is Coming," he replied and took the sword from his uncle's hands and rose to his feet and drew the blade from it's sheath, it was as fine a blade as a castle forge could make, and the skill of the blacksmiths within the Red Keep could not be questioned. He slid the sword into the scabbard and knelt in front of the King, the only one of two times he would be expected to do it this day.
The King gave him leave to rise once he had returned to his seat and the Queen was next in line; it took her a little while to reach the table, and she had to stop and lean on her weirwood walking stick for a moment before she continued on until she was in front of him, the warmth of the Queen's smile was always a reassuring sight to see but even more so at that moment as it had been something of a rare sight as of late.
Not that Jon could blame her, of course, he had been in the...establishment where Torrhen had been attacked and nearly died; some of the others in the building who had been there thought that he had died and that his foreign lover had somehow brought him back to life, but that was impossible, to nearly lose one of your children must be terrible and not a thing to be born easily, and the journey to the North was long and arduous even without the delicate condition that the Queen was in.
Then there had been the shocking treason of Princess Cersei and her son, to think anyone was capable of such ill will and black ingratitude and even more so with all the grace and generosity that Queen Elia had shown the both of them.
And the day before they had been due to set off on the road north, there had been more ill news, the High Septon had called for a moon's turn of holy confinement, which meant that all septons and septas had to journey to their nearest sept and confine themselves within it's walls where all they would do was pray and fast, which meant that Lyarra had to do so as well and thus she had been unable to take the journey North.
He had also heard something from Rickard about a that letter had come from Dorne that had disquieted the Queen but he did not know what it said, not that he would expect his bastard cousin to betray the Queen's trust even if he did know.
He wondered if Lyarra was currently feasting on hard bread and still water while they ate sweetmeats and drank honey and milk, it made a guilty quiver rumble in his stomach, and for a moment, he felt as though he was going to be ill. He knew that it was the life that the third Stark princess had chosen for herself and that she was happy with her life but it still seemed unfortunate that the High Septon would call for such a thing just before they were due to leave.
The queen's gift came in an ornately carved box of elm, and inside of the box were seven wooden figures bundled up in red cloth, the figures were small but hand-painted. "If you need them," Was all the Queen said, her smile still bright as she returned to her chair at her husband's side.
There were more gifts after, a drinking horn from Torrhen and a book about Westeros from before Aegon landed on its shores; from Rohanne there was a wooden harp with oiled springs and from Meria a new hunting knife, from his half brother Ivon Arryn there was a silver clasp for his cloak, shaped into a wolf's head with a falcon on top of it.
His gratitude to every gift was immense but he was also glad when it was over as well and the final meal of the breakfast came. It was a bowl of leek and onion soup which had an egg cooked inside of it as the liquid had boiled, the soup seemed too bright his senses somewhat, and he felt stronger than ever about what was to come.
When the breakfast officially came to an end there was still a few hours before the wedding was to start, and Minisa had asked him in her letter to make sure that he did not see her before the actual ceremony and Jon saw no reason not to do so, considering that it was rare for Minisa to ask anything of anyone in truth, and so he, Torrhen, Mors, Ivon and Rickard wandered the castle.
"And I though the Eyrie could be cold at times," Ivon said, his teeth chattering louder than his footsteps. "How is anyone able to live here?"
"It's Autumn, or near enough; it wasn't always as cold as this," Jon spoke as they walked outside into the main courtyard, all around them the sounds of a castle alive and hard at work. "And it will be worse when the Winter is finally here; I've only heard stories from the King and from Old Nan, but if it's even half as bad I've heard, or I've feared, then many will die. Even I might; this might be the last we see each other."
It was clear that Ivon had not thought about that before and for a moment, he looked so stricken that the older brother in Jon wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but before he had the chance to do so, Rickard was the one who spoke. "Well, you're not going to get rid of me that easily. I will be your new bannerman after all; did you forget that?"
"I have not," Jon said with a smile. "Though I cannot say that I envy you, Moat Cailin is not a great state and to try and rebuild it with Winter so close to us...I would never try to question the King but if he or Uncle Benjen wanted Moat Cailin rebuilt, then why start so late, why now of all times?"
"I've found myself wondering that as well," Mors said, and it was good to hear him speak again, the attack on his twin had hit harder than any of them and he had barely spoken since, though being away from the capital had seemed to help him somewhat as had his infatuation with one of Lord Walder Frey's granddaughters when the royal party had stopped there to rest and feast, Walda Frey had seemed to cheer him and bring him out of himself no end.
"I tried to find any records about any reconstruction efforts for the Moat, but I couldn't find anything in the archives of the Red Keep, and I did spend all of yesterday looking through any records that Winterfell had with the maester's help, but I couldn't find anything here either," Mors crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, his right foot tapping up and down as he chewed on his bottom lip. "It's odd, and I do not like it."
"Odd or not I can not turn it aside now; I never could," Rickard said with a shrug. "Father said he needed me to do this, so I shall do so."
"Duty before anything else, those should be our words instead of Winter is Coming," Torrhen said with a laugh; he had recovered quickly from his attack, and the only sign of its effects now was that he was still a bit pale to Jon's eyes. He knew that his older cousin was missing his lover, the Queen, and King had insisted that she remain within King's Landing, but he had not let that affect his mood too much. "Let us hope, brother dear, that you are more beaver than a wolf; you'll need to build fast."
"I intend to," Rickard retorted dryly, but his next words were directed at Jon. "I know that you might be a little...distracted, come the morrow, but would you help me talk to Uncle Benjen? I've been trying to get him to help me find some raw materials to rebuild, but he has been putting me off of it; I know that the wedding will be demanding much of his attention, but this is important, and I thought it would matter to him enough to at least spare a moment."
"I'm sure that it does, and of course, I will. Like you say, he is probably just distracted, his oldest daughter is getting married soon, and he is still the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North, he has a great many duties to take care of. I am sure that when the wedding is over, and the royal party has returned to the south, he will be able to help you."
"Perhaps," Rickard spoke and he did not speak again about it but he did not seem to be overly comforted by it, they walked around for a while longer and spoke more before the cold got a cruel bite to it that forced them to go back inside the keep. Once there they found an alcove where they could sit, and Torrhen went off and came back with a pitcher of mulled wine for them, and they spent the next few hours laughing, drinking and speaking of things of very little import at all.
The bell rang so suddenly and so loudly that it startled Jon enough to cause him to drop the nearly empty flagon of wine, the dregs splashing out and staining his shirt, which he cursed to see, but he cursed again once he realised that the bell ringing meant there was only an hour before the wedding itself was due, he needed to get changed.
Torrhen and Ivon helped him to his feet, and they ran as quickly as they could back to his own chambers, and he quickly changed into the clothes that had been pre-prepared for this very night. A black velvet doublet that had been slashed with bright red silk, grey trousers and black boots with a silver chain with two medallions in the shape of a wolf and a trout.
It occurred to him once he was finally dressed, and once he took off his own boots and put them back on once he realised that he put them on the wrong feet, that he might have overacted slightly to the sound of the bell as getting back to the chamber and getting properly dressed had taken about a quarter of an hour and for some reason he found himself laughing again, as did his friends.
The bell rang once more, and the moment he had been waiting for so long for was finally here at last. He walked out of the bed chamber, and his brother and cousins followed him out; as they stepped outside for the third and final time that night, all of them were given a torch by the guards who were waiting for them, and they began the slow walk into the godswood.
The sky was a black curtain with only a few specks of light, but the moon was fat in the sky, bright and silver, and the snow was still falling steadily. The warm glow of more torches led them into the grove where the heart tree would be waiting for them, he knew that some of those who had never seen it before would be scared of the weirwood with its great carved face, the red sap that oozed like blood and the sheer bulk of it but Jon had only ever took comfort from it.
Lord Benjen, King Eddard, Queen Elia, his mother and Lord Arryn were already present, and all of them were holding a torch, as well as all the assembled lords who had gathered, both those that had come up from the south and those northern bannermen who had been invited to the event which was most of them, the bannermen who would one day be his.
There was only one person that they had to wait for now.
Jon turned his head when he caught movement in the corner of his eye coming from the entrance into the grove and his heart leapt into his throat at the sight that greeted him.
Minisa, tall and splendid, strode into the godswood grove clad in a gown of white silk and ivory lace; there were slashes in the bodice which showed the red underneath and her sleeves were slashed as well to show blue, the colours of House Stark and House Tully combined. Her head was crowned by a crown of white and blue roses, and there were pearls in her long red hair, and her train was carried behind her by her own lady mother, three of her own sisters and both Rohanne and Meria.
He wanted to go to her at that moment and kiss her so deeply that his head would spin, but the tradition demanded that he stayed where he was, and so he did so, the bride came to a stop, and Lord Benjen stepped into the middle of the godswood and spoke loud enough for all those that had gathered to hear. "Who comes before the old gods this night?"
"Minisa, of the House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg for the blessings of the gods. Who here comes forth to claim her?" And there it was, the question he had been waiting so very long for.
Jon stepped forward, very glad that he had managed not to trip over his own feet, and spoke the words he had practised so many times before. "Jon, of the House Stark, a wolf of the pack that returns home at last. Who gives her?"
"Benjen, the Lord of House Stark, and I welcome the lost wolf home," they had changed the vows a little bit to recognise the fact that this was a Stark marrying another Stark; he thought that they worked quite well without lingering on the point too much.
"Lady Minisa, my daughter, do you take this man as your husband?"
"I do take this man," Minisa spoke, her voice as gentle as snow and as warm as the summer sun, and the smile on her face was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen, and Jon swore that he would do everything in his power to make sure that smile would never fall from her face and that he would never give her any cause to cry.
Lord Benjen nodded and stepped back, and Jon and Minisa stepped forward to meet in the middle. Hand in hand, they walked over to the heart tree and knelt in front of it to pray. Jon had already said the prayers earlier, but he saw no issue with doing so again.
When they were both done, they rose to their feet, and Jon took Minisa's cloak off, they were both Starks, and so he was taking one wolf cloak off of her back to simply put another one over her delicate shoulders, and it seemed that he was not the only one to notice the absurdity of the situation as there was a light chuckle that went around the grove, followed quickly by a sharp shushing noise.
And just like that, it was done.
"To the bride and groom!" Lord Benjen bellowed.
"The bride and the groom!"
It was then time for the feast, and Jon and his wife, and the thought that Minisa was finally his wife made him feel like a little boy being given his first training sword, leading the way back to the great hall hand in hand.
The warmth of the Great Hall was a blessed relief after the chill of the night, and the smell of roasting meat meet his nose and made his mouth water. They took their seats on the dais alongside the King and the Queen, Lord and Lady Stark, his Mother and Lord Arryn and all of their family members. The rest of the guests took their seats throughout the hall, and all thoughts of the cold and dark vanished with the warmth and sounds of life.
An onion pie with sharp white cheese was brought out to them, and Jon cut a small slice of the pie for his lady and offered it to Minisa with a smile. "I hope that you are pleased, my lady."
Minisa smiled at him again and took a small bite of the pie, and then spoke. "I am very pleased, more than pleased, I am happy. And you don't need to call me that, we have known each other since we were children as we are married now. Let us just call each other by our names."
"Of course, Minisa."
All through the next few courses, they spoke and fed each other bits from their own plates; Minisa's smiles were hard things to bring out, but each one was perfect, and each one he treasured even more than the last.
Soon the time came for the dancing to start, and it fell to Jon and Minisa to lead them as the tables were pushed against the walls, thankfully they both knew how to dance, but Jon would not care if he looked like the biggest fool to ever stand on two feet, so long as he was with her.
There were more dances to be had with others, of course, he took a turn around the hall with his own mother, with his cousins Rohanne, Meria, Sansa and Arya and all seven of Minisa's sisters, and he made sure to slip Janna some extra honey cakes from his plate in order to keep his promise.
When he had gone back to the dais and sat down next to his wife he had thought that the dances were over, he turned out to be very wrong indeed. "Does my new son not have a dance for?"
Lysa Tully's voice shocked him, but not as much as her words did. Lady Lysa had never been cruel to him whenever he came to Winterfell, but he knew she did not want him there and that she had been trying so hard for a son to displace him as the heir. He did not blame her for that, the world had been cruel to her, and he, even if he did not want to, had benefited from it.
In truth, he had been more than a little concerned about how things would be going forward; there would be no more going back to the south for him now. He and Lady Lysa would be living in the same halls as one another day after day. To hear that she wanted to dance with him was, in all honesty, the very last thing that he had been expecting from her and it did not set well with him.
But she was his aunt by blood, his mother by marriage and the lady of Winterfell before anything else and there was no way for him to deny her, and so he forced a smile onto his face that he hoped was convincing. "Of course, Aunt Lysa, nothing would delight me more."
As he led her by the hand onto the floor, Jon glanced at his mother in the corner of his eye, and when he turned his head to look at her, he saw the look of concern on her face; it touched him to see how much she worried for him, but while this was an uncomfortable situation it was hardly like he was going to be riding out on to a battlefield and so he gave her a reassuring smile.
Jon faced his aunt and began dancing with her, gently holding her hands and starting to sway. "My lady, I want you to know that I will spend every day of my life making sure that Minisa is happy and well-loved. You need have no fear on that score."
Lady Lysa hummed and pressed herself slightly closer to him, "Well, I am very glad to hear that. But you are very young and so is she, and marriage can be a tricky beast even on the best of days." She sighed and shook her head. "But you will both learn about that soon enough, and I shouldn't be trying to cast a pall. Have you been enjoying the rest of the wedding? It seems everyone else has been."
"I have; my thanks to you for planning it, my lady."
"Oh, I didn't. This was all Minisa; I offered a little advice here and there, but she would not be said, and so I simply gave the reins over to her. It might have been for the best," the players increased the speed of their playing, and both of them matched it. "I must confess that I was worried about you, all of you, on the journey up from the capital. I've heard about such troubles with that roving band of fanatics.
"Oh yes, the Seven Swords," Jon nodded with a frown, they had become more of a problem in recent years, and with the fact that one of them had tried to kill Torrhen, a royal prince, he could not see how it could do anything but get worse. "We had safe travels, we took no risks, and we had numbers on our side. They are known more for raiding, burning and pillaging, not gathering large hosts."
"Still, I was concerned. Minisa was, too, though she hid it well. But she can hide nothing from me, and there are some things a mother just knows. She will understand that when she has children of her own." A smile crossed her face then, and it was probably the warmest smile that Jon had ever seen from Lady Lysa, but that was more because she seldom smiled when Jon was in the same room. "Oh yes, when she becomes a mother, there are a great many things she will understand that might seem like madness to her now."
Jon was glad to see that his mother-by-law was opening up more to the idea and the thought of Minisa as a mother only made him smile more, he hoped that he would be a good father as well. A good father, a good husband and a good lord it was all that he had ever wanted to be.
Their dance ended, and Lady Lysa leaned in and pressed a kiss on his cheek, and he didn't think that he couldn't be any more surprised than he was at that very moment and walked back to take her seat and Jon took his seat next to his wife and held her hand under the table.
It was time for the bedding then, and while Jon had given serious thought to insisting that there had not been one for Minisa's dignity, he also knew how it would look if a man that the northern lords considered half a southerner started telling them not to do something, even if beddings were still done in the south.
And Minisa bore it well; she was quiet and did not jest back with the men as they carried her away, but every step she took towards them throng was dignified, and there was a small smile on her face throughout it all.
Jon knew he had the easier task as the women descended on him; giggling was all that he could hear as his cloak, gloves, doublet and shirt were all stripped away from him. He still had his trousers on by the time they reached the door leading into the bedchamber and he was in a better state compared to Minisa; most of her lovely dress was in tatters now.
They were both shoved into the room by the horde, and the door slammed shut behind them. The light of the moon filled the room, and Jon felt like his heart was going to burst from how beautiful Minisa was. He stepped forward, cupped her face gently, and leaned in to kiss her, her mouth falling open to let his tongue inside.
The wedding party shouted vulgar suggestions through the door but neither of them paid them any heed, Jon would take his time and be as slow and gentle as his lady wife deserved. He picked her up and gently carried Minisa over to the wedding bed, kissing down her throat and her chest and between her legs. Every gasp and whimper that he brought out of her was something to savour.
And when he was finally inside her, he was certain that the gods had never created anything finer.
He was in a warm bed with the woman he loved, the one he had always loved for as long as he could remember, and he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her and fell into a land of dreams where Winterfell was overrun by all the children that they would have with one another.
A sharp burst of a cold woke him from his dreams, and he blinked open his eyes, the sight of Minisa standing in front of the open shutters dressed only in her thin shift made him frown, and he rose from the bed to walk behind her and wrap his arms around her middle, smiling as she leaned back against him and he began to press kisses to her neck. "Love, what are you doing? It's too cold, close the shutters and come back to bed."
"I had a dream, and it woke me."
"I had a dream as well; what did you dream of?"
Minisa Stark let out a heavy sigh as she kept staring out into the black, moonlight night. "What I always dream about, crows."
End of Chapter
And we're back!
Also, I promise you the fact that this chapter has two Jons, as well as Rickard who is the canon Jon Snow, is just as hard for me to keep track of writing as it might be to you reading it.
Anywho, the next two chapters I have planned are another Irri chapter and a chapter from a new perspective.
But neither of them will be the next update, as the next update for this story will be the appendix/family tree.
So, see you then.