authorsnote: chapter 15 and it is my favourite yet

this might divide some, but this was always how the story was going to go.

do enjoy, do review if you can.

also HUGE thank you to the freefolk subreddit for the valyrian wedding translations!

songrecs: ava - huxley ford

He hadn't slept a wink.

All night he'd tossed and turned, wrestling with the fact in just a few short hours, Sansa Stark – Tully here yes, but she was always a Stark to him, would be his wife.

And she would become Sansa Targaryen.

Setting aside his own feelings, confusing as they were, he thought of the man, that long before he'd known his true heritage had been a Father to him, and still was in almost everyway that mattered, and what he would think, that in just hours Jon would marry, and then he knew, with a groan, and further pacing – would despoil his daughter, his beloved daughter.

He imagined Lady Catelyn would kill him, Robb punch him, Arya screw up her nose in disgust, and Eddard Stark, the man he'd called Father, and still did in his head – what would he think? What disappointment would he place on Jon for allowing this to happen?

They weren't siblings yes, cousins, but they hadn't grown up as cousins, had they? Yes, he knew they hadn't been close as children, never like brother and sister, but they had grown up and reunited believing it, his little sister, and now he would marry her, how he would make her his wife, now he would take her in everyway that would make it so.

A Targaryen after all…

He knew he had to do it, and why, it was the only way to ensure they stayed together in this time, and he would carry the guilt and fear of her resentment with him always if it kept her by his side, but he knew what it meant, he knew what he would have to do.

The pacing continued.

Worse, he knew not only did he have to do it, he wanted to.

That he couldn't lie to himself on.

Would she resent him? She had been pleased when he'd suggested it; an elegant solution to their problem? But when he took her maidenhood would she see the desire in his eyes and be disgusted? Would she resent marrying someone who once she'd thought of as a sibling? If she ever had?

He remembered their words to one another that had soothed something deep in him before the guilt had come rushing back;

'I won't regret marrying you Jon, never you'

'I could never regret you Sansa, never'

He would never, perhaps he needed to believe that if his words were true, so were hers.

Sleep evaded him throughout the night, and before dawn even broke, Jon found himself in the training yard, pounding his sword relentlessly against training dummies, working out the fear that he was taking advantage, the image of a disappointed Eddard Stark, the look on Robbs face if he were here…

"Nervous?" A voice yanked him from his training, and he turned with a jump to the man he called Father here; Aegon Targaryen. A man of legend just a Father here, and he acted like one, confusing but in truth welcome to a boy who'd always craved a real family.

"Yes" He said, honestly, there was little he could reveal here, but that truth, that nerves squirmed in his gut, he could.

"Its normal" Aegon said with a smile as he stepped forward and clapped a hand on his sons shoulder. It wasn't the same as his Mother, Visenya, who he leaned into with ease, he'd always longed for a Mother, but it was something close, the craving for a family betraying him. Could anyone blame him? "I promise you"

"I know" Though he knew these nerves, these fears weren't normal, Targaryens had no compunction about marrying family, and wasn't he a Targaryen?

He felt like he was becoming one.

"I just … " Jon hesitated, but continued, "I want her to be happy"

"She will be" Aegon said, steering him to walk back into the castle, a comforting arm around him that Jon leaned into, and followed him, the guards at the door falling into step with a respectful nod.

That was nice for Jon to see, as he had since coming here, everyday. The people truly respected Aegon Targaryen, and it was nice for Jon to know they did, that once his ancestors hadn't been mad, but respected and good rulers.

"You won't mistreat her?" He asked, and Jon shook his head quickly and furiously.

"Never" He would die first.

"You will try and make her happy?" He continued and Jon nodded just as much.

"Everyday" He said, and he knew that was the truth.

"Then she will be happy, you will give her children to love and a place by your side as Queen, and she will be happy, as will you Jon" Aegon paused then, clapped Jons shoulders and smiled, "As I wish you to be"

"I will Father" Jon said before he smiled and corrected, "I am"

"Good" And then they parted, Jon exhausted, and arms hurting, but feeling lighter, back to his room to bathe, and then dress. It had been kind, simple, Fatherly advice, and yet Jon craved such things, and did feel better as he washed and readied himself.

Earlier in the week his Father had pulled him aside another time and told him that the first wedding ceremony would be a Valyrian one, followed by that of the Seven for the people, the former to honor their beliefs. Their eyes; mirrors of each other had met and Jon had only nodded. He followed no Southern Gods, only those of Old, but thought of how he'd come back, how they'd found themselves in this time, and what that had meant.

He could not deny there were Gods, he just didn't know which ones. Old? Red? Valyrian? He did not know. Had humanity gotten it wrong? Was there one God responsible for all of this? He did not know.

But he knew what he was expected to follow, the Valyrian religion, hence his lack of protest, and so he dressed for that ceremony, a long gown of pale gold with red running up the back and skirts. He pulled a pair of pale breeches underneath, brown boots, and he was ready to go; reluctantly he left his sword behind imagining Sansa's face if he showed up with it strapped to him. A smile he carried as he waited, and then made his way, guards at either shoulder to where he'd been instructed to go.

To marry Sansa.

A woman, he shouldn't want to marry, but if he admitted to himself …

Well, he did, even if the guilt ate him alive. He did think of his Fathers words again, 'Then she will be happy', Gods, he hoped so. He had been honest in that he would work everyday to ensure so.

She hadn't slept a wink.

The night before her wedding and she can't even catch an hours sleep before dawn calls and the day begins.

She spent the night in her bed, but tossing and turning, back and forth, back, and forth. Awake, staring at the canopy of the bed, her eyes feeling heavy with tiredness but sleep refusing to come.

She stifles a yawn as maids enter her room to fuss over her and prep her. They wear Tully colours, and she knows she can't let her guard around them, but she can pretend to be a nervous bride, she can relax into a bath they draw for her, before sitting, quiet in her chair, in front of her mirror, as they fuss with her hair and pinch rose into her cheeks.

Does she have to pretend, the nerves?

They gossip and chatter, and she just lets it wash over her, nerves in her tummy, but they are gentle as they tease her hair, as they dab jasmine oil behind her ears, and she stifles another yawn, and one of them hurries her a cup of tea that she drains, another refilled and drained again.

It is a relaxing way to spend one of the scariest mornings of her life.

She isn't scared because of Jon, never, but she is nervous … for reasons she hasn't quite allowed herself to think on yet.

And so she doesn't acknowledge them. She sits as they erase the bags under her eyes, as they give her pink lips, as they tease her hair into a perfect Southern style, not quite as elaborate as her first wedding hair, but close.

Eventually they pull her to her feet, give her small clothes to change into, and then underthings, a corset and long skirt, and then…

Not the wedding dress she'd been fitted into for hours, a thing of pure spun red, rubies and sapphires, but something else instead.

She remembered Queen Visenya pulling her aside during planning, to explain she and Jon would first be married in a Valyrian ceremony, that, that was the one that mattered, the second ceremony was for the people, to appease those that followed the seven, this was for the Targaryens.

Sansa knew they followed the Valyrian religion, and though after Visenya had spoken, Rhaenys had been sensitive to say she understood Sansa's importance in marrying in the religion of the Seven (hilarious from Sansa's point of view, since she followed her true Fathers Gods), but the Valyrian religion had to come first.

Sansa had nodded, not said a word to her family here, and now stood, as Tully maids exited, only being told to prep her face and hair, and then Visenyas maids entered and robed her.

Long sweeping robes of pale gold, that were belted at the waist, and then red ran up the skirts and down the back. Sansa's hair, as it was braided down the back in a complex style was tucked back so the almost crown, a long tassled thing in gold and silver was placed atop her head. On her feet lay pale gold slippers, it was something she'd never even seen before.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, she'd never recognized herself less.

And yet, in a sense, in a way she liked it.

Jon was a Targaryen, had been long before they'd come here, she had to accept that, and she found it easier to do today, knowing she would be one too.

Having the same name again, Stark or no (and it hurt to let go of Stark, but she was no Stark here regardless), pleased something in her heart.

"You're ready, my Lady" One of the maids said with a smile, "The guards will escort you to the wedding location" Sansa knew what they meant, which wedding, and she nodded, unsurprised to find Targaryen guards at the doors who bowed respectfully before she followed them.

To her wedding to Jon.

One she was far more excited about than she should be, could admit to herself, or Jon.

She met him with a half gasp, half smile, and something strong beating in her heart.

It was the cliff overlooking Kings Landing, and only the King, the two Queens, a priest who nodded at her with two acolytes either side and a handful of guards were present.

And Jon of course.

Jon, who she was sure had never looked so resplendent, and so un-Jon like.

Just like she had when dressed, it felt for a second like she was looking at a stranger.

He wore the same clothes as her but no headdress, his hair hung loose at his chin, those black curls that reminded her so of him being a Stark. The eyes though, a harsh and dazzling purple, they were all Targaryen. She missed the grey but couldn't deny they were quite something those eyes, quite something to lose oneself in.

But the smile, as she approached nervously, the guards falling back, the smile Jon gave her as she fell into her place, on the left side of the priest as he stood the right, that coaxed a nervous smile from her, that smile was all Jon.

Her Jon.

And that allowed her to smile back, as the priest approached them each with a nod, and handed them both a dagger made of glittering, purple dragonglass.

Queen Visenya had told her simply to follow Jon's lead in this ceremony to the letter, and so as he met her gaze, that dazzling purple to her Tully blue, she felt reassured, gave him the smallest of nods, knowing he needed it, and then he started.

Started something that she knew, could not be undone.

Something she knew in her deepest heart she didn't want to be undone.

"Trust me" He whispered gently, and without hesitation she replied in an equal whisper, "With my life" as he raised the dragonglass dagger and with the gentlest of pressures the tip of it cut into her bottom lip, she managed to smother a gasp, knowing as Jon winced, he would never hurt her, had only done so, the sting minor, for this ceremony. A gentle cut on her bottom lip, and something fizzed in her blood as he reached forward, swiping his thumb over the cut, before he ever so gently, and with such kindness, and even reverence, so much so that she could cry, swiped the blood across her forehead in a straight line, marking her as his bride.

As she had been told, with hands, that to her surprise she managed to stop from shaking, she followed Jon exactly.

The gentle pressure of the dagger, her thumb ever so gentle across his lip, the wet blood staining it as she pressed it to his forehead. She was only an inch or two shorter than him, and did not have to reach far, making a perfect marked line with his blood, Targaryen blood. Marking him as her husband.

As they had marked one another.

What were his Houses words?

Fire and Blood.

For comfort she thought of her own, that still she knew, were Jons too; Winter is Coming. They brought her comfort, and she hoped his words would bring him.

Jon took the dagger from her again, and without so much as a flinch sliced into his palm, before handing it back to her. She did the same, though with a flinch this time, the sting harsher, and then Jon pressed his palm to hers and took her hand, linking them together, their joined blood trickling down their wrists and marking the floor.

Their blood mixing, as they too, joined in marriage. Stark blood, Tully blood, Targaryen blood.

Gentle words she didn't understand were spoken by the priest, though as Jon concentrated, he seemed to.

"Hen lantoti ānogar, va sȳndroti vāedroma"

"Blood of two, joined as one" Jon whispered after the priest, who continued, didn't seem to mind and Sansa smiled, her hand shaking a little now, the cut hurt, but Jon holding her hand, squeezing it gently made up for the pain. She didn't even consider how he seemed suddenly fluent in High Valyrian.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr"

"Ghostly flame, and a song of shadows" Jon continued, and Sansa nodded.

There was a pause as an acolyte of the priest stepped forward to hand Sansa a cup which she took with one hand, knowing to keep her other joined with Jon, she wouldn't have let go for the world, Jon was her anchor here. She took a drink from the gilded cup of the spiced wine, it was harsh, but this time she did not flinch, drinking a good fill before she handed it to Jon, knowing everything here was equal.

To Jon she would be his equal.

"Izulī ampā perzī, prūmī lanti sēteksi"

Jon drank deeply, and when he finished, handed the cup back to the acolyte before translating again in a hushed voice, "Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires"

Sansa knew that, from her history lessons; the fourteen fires of Valyria, the ring of volcanos that surrounded the city, before the Doom. But she focused more on the first part … two hearts, hers was beating steadily in her chest, and as she was gripped Jons, she knew his was too.

"Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, qēlossa ozūndesi"

"A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness"

They did indeed, this early, some still blinked from the sky. Sansa liked to think at the very least the Starks of old were watching over her.

Maybe someway her family were too, even with time making it impossible she allowed herself to think it. Her heart ached for them. Two weddings now they'd been unable to attend, and this one, she wished they had.

For a moment, just a split second, she imagined she and Jon, the very same way, but stood in front of the Heart Tree in Winterfell, summer snows gentle around them as they spoke the words of the Old Gods, as they promised themselves to one another in the North, and her heart ached for that future.

"Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo, rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi"

"The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light"

Sansa did flinch then, at the word 'time', Jons eyes widened she saw as he translated it, how he translated it, they'd need to discuss as it dawned on her, but even as it did, after looking into purple eyes that in that moment she wondered if she could drown in; anything was possible.

Including, as she looked at Jon, her Jon, his forehead smeared with blood, his lip cut with blood trickling down to his chin, this.

Them.

Her heart beating, beating for Jon and Jon alone.

Especially as Jon offered her the kindest smile, and dipped his head, and she knew what was coming, knew and this time she most certainly did not flinch, her heart steady.

Only tipped her head back, something deep in her heart fluttering, as Jon brought his lips to hers.

She tasted blood, blood and Jon, his lips were so gentle, and yet, as he kissed her, they hardened, and something of a gentle sigh left hers, as this, she realised, guilt and worry and fear ebbing away, falling off of her like a cloak, so easy to let go … This, felt right.

As the kiss deepened, bloodied lips ignored, as Jon held her hand with such surety she knew if she fell, now or in ten years, he would catch her; but she had known that? Hadn't she? As the kiss stoked a kind of fire in her chest, she had always known Jon, her Jon.

The kiss just awoke something else she knew. He was not just her Jon as a friend, or even the brother he never had been, he was her Jon in every sense of the word. As the kiss sent furious cracks and pops of the flame spinning around her head, and such a heat in her belly, chest, heart, she knew, she knew Jon was hers in every single way it mattered.

And as he released her, so gentle she could cry, and they tipped their heads forwards, foreheads meeting, she knew with certainty he felt the same, as they breathed one another in.

"I love you" She but whispered so gently she wasn't even sure he heard it, and she knew in that moment, as something inside of her seemed to awaken, she meant those words as though they had been written on her soul, and knew before Jon spoke,

"I love you" In a ghosted whisper, that he felt them too.

A roar of a dragon sounded overhead, their blood continued the gentle trickle to the floor, and they stayed, Jon and Sansa, of House Targaryen, joined, beyond just as husband and wife, but as though their souls had mingled, stayed locked with one another, where both had known all along, but now acknowledged, they belonged.

there we have it

this ship was always going to go like this - no mistake there is angst to come, but jon/sansa was always going to be an in-love jon/sansa, even with obstacles

I hope you enjoyed, I really enjoyed writing the valyrian wedding ceremony, I hope you enjoyed reading it! next we have the southern one, and a bedding

do review, follow, fav and all that jazz!