A White Wedding
Lady Sansa Stark, her Personal Garden, Winterfell
Sansa was tending to her garden of flowers. It was in poor taste really as she was to be married soon enough, in about two hours in fact.
“Sansa!” Her mother's voice called to her in a huff. “There you are! What are you doing here in the garden – Sansa?” Her mother had noticed that the flowers had started to wilt. “Are you unwell?” She asked in concern.
“No,” Sansa said quietly, turning to face her mother. “I'm not sick but -” She stopped suddenly and shook her head, frustrated. “I can't explain it.”
“If you wish to postpone the wedding -”
“Its not that,” Sansa said hurriedly. “I want to marry Domeric, he's good and kind despite his origins.”
“Then what is it, Sansa?”
How could Sansa explain to her mother about the nightmare she had several nights ago when she herself did not understand it? How could she explain the monster with the decayed skin and bright green eyes who killed her parents and her uncles before turning to her and saying that she was next? Or of the whispered conversations between her father, grandfather and some of the Children of the Forest?
“Its nothing, I promise,” Sansa shook her head again and attempted a smile, the flowers even growing healthy again in response. Her mother clearly didn't believe her, so she tried again. “Its nothing mother, I promise. Do we have enough time to get into my dress?”
Her mother eyed her sharply before her gaze softened, “If we head to your chambers now, we will.”
“Then let us get moving, I don't want to be late for my wedding.” Sansa smiled again, this time a tad more genuine. As she took her mothers hand in her own, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.
Ser Markus Ryden, Winterfell's Courtyard
Markus tried his best to not grin at the his cousin's discomfort. Domeric shifted on his feet uneasily, taking in all the faces that stared at him.
“I suppose this is where you all give me a hard time?” He said stiffly. Amateur mistake, Markus thought, his grin widening.
“Who said anything about a hard time?” Edmund said flatly, and with a lazy look in his eyes. “We're all happy to see our sister get married, aren't we boys?” He asked Jon and Robb, who merely stared at Domeric unblinkingly.
Quentyn just shrugged when Domeric looked at him, offering no insight. His time before marrying Arya wasn't as awkward as this, but it was awkward.
“You're my cousin and I love you,” Markus said when he turned to him. “And I love Sansa as well but she's their sister.” He nodded at the three men to his left. “You'll get no help from me.”
Domeric gave him a betrayed look which made him roll his eyes. So dramatic, he thought as they all lapsed into awkward silence. The silence was broken when his father came over to them.
“Time to get in to your places.” Lord Brandon said taking in their expressions. He too rolled his eyes. “She's marrying him boys now knock it off or I'll tell her to use your hair to plant flowers like she did as a child.” Markus burst into laughter as Sansa's brothers grimaced.
When Sansa had been a little girl she had put seeds in to their thick and short hair, and prayed to the Seven to make pretty flowers grow there like in one of her favorite stories. She didn't try it with Markus because she was afraid that he would just burn them off. The next morning, all three boys had multicolored flowers sprouting up through their hair.
Sansa had been delighted that her prayers were answered but she wailed when her brothers cut their hair to remove the flowers. All the plants near her started to die as she sobbed at her 'loss'. Leaf had taken her aside to show her why she should be more careful in the future and even gave her a small pot to plant whatever flower she wanted. Her father had planted a garden for her when she was older and in more control.
Jon, Robb, and Edmund grumbled as they moved towards the Godswood. Something about their fun being spoiled and Domeric gave Lord Brandon a grateful smile before he and Quentyn moved to join them. Markus started walking but his father held up a hand to stop him.
“My lord?” Markus said with a frown and his father frowned in return.
“Markus,” He said pained. “You can call me father.”
“Are you sure?” Markus said with false cheer. “I think your wife might have a problem with that, my lord.”
He took no pleasure in the fact that his father flinched at his words but he did soften his tone, “What do you want my lord?”
“Your sister wishes to join you on your journey to Dorne,” Lord Brandon said softly, much to the surprise of Markus.
“Whatever for?” Her mother made it clear that none of her children would look upon me favorably, He thought incredulously. Nyna Flint had not been overly cruel to him as he grew to manhood but he received more affection from Lady Catelyn than he did his stepmother. And he remembered her face every time he called Lord Brandon father or when he presented his son to Lord Rickard Stark to receive his blessing.
“She wishes to earn her Denship under your tutelage. She'd rather learn from a seasoned and traveled warrior than someone who lived here their entire lives. And she wishes to reconnect with you after all this time,” He added softly.
“I'm sure your heir enjoyed hearing that,” Markus said bitterly before he could stop himself. While his stepmother did not wish him ill, his half brother had made it clear that he did not like him. Going so far as to say that he would never be welcomed in the Wolf's Cradle when he became lord.
“Torrhen doesn't make the decisions for our house, I do.” Brandon said sharply before composing himself and placing his hand on Markus' shoulder. “You are my first born Markus, no matter what name you have, you are my son, never forget that.”
Kind of hard to do so, Markus thought but he just nodded his head all the same. “As far as my sisters request goes, I will have to speak with her first and see for myself if she is ready. And Obara would have to sign off on it, since the High Castle is her home, not mine.”
“I understand but please, consider it, you and Evie used to be so close.” His father looked pained once more at the thought.
“I know, and if we regain even a fraction of the relationship we had, I would be happy. But I am not the lord of the castle in Dorne, I am just married to its lady. She will have the final say.”
“Of course.”
Obara would agree if he convinced her to let it happen. But he needed to speak with Evie first, and understand why she wanted to earn her Denship from Markus and not another Northerner.
Ser Locke Winter, the Godswood of Winterfell
“Who comes before the gods this day” The Septon from the Snowy Sept intoned. Lord Eddard stepped forward just behind his daughter.
“Lady Sansa of house Stark comes here to wed.” He said dutifully. “A woman grown, true borne and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods.”
“And who comes to claim her?” The Septon looked at Domeric who straightened his posture.
“Ser Domeric, of house Towers, Lord of Roger Hall. True borne and noble. I've come to claim her as my wife.” The Septon nodded a him before turning back towards Lord Eddard.
“And who gives her?” He asked.
“Lord Eddard of house Stark, her father.”
“Lady Sansa, do you take this man?”
“I take this man as my husband.” Sansa said with confidence and a small smile. Lock smiled as well. It gladdened his heart that his cousin had found someone who loved him despite his blood.
“Then both of you may step forward.” The Septon gestured for them to come closer which they did. He turned to lord Stark, “Remove the cloak of her birth house, so she may receive the one of her marriage, my lord.”
Eddard did as he was told, removing the grey cloak with white patterns stoically. Locke had been stoic during his marriage as well but for different reasons to be sure. He had never worshiped the Seven before then and he still didn't despite his marriage to Rei. He went through the motions for her but he had another ceremony in a Godswood the first chance he got.
The Northmen hardly considered a marriage in the Faith binding or even legal and it wouldn't surprise him if the Southerners thought all Northerners were bastards because so many of them worshiped the true gods of Westeros. Domeric and Sansa should be safe with this dual ceremony.
“You may cloak the bride and bring her under your protection,” The Septon said to Domeric who looked at him. Locke gave him a white cloak with red and pink patterns swirled about. They were the colors of his own personal sigil and the ones that would replace the red, white and black of the Flayed Man of Bolton.
Domeric placed the cloak around Sansa's shoulders with a small smile which mirrored hers. They then turned to the Septon and offered their hands when they were asked too. The Septon wrapped their hands gently in rainbow colored ribbons.
“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for all eternity.” He intoned loudly for the those who attended. He looked at the both of them. “Look upon one another and say the words.”
They did as they were told and began to exchange their vows.
“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days.”
“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Crone, Stranger, I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days.”
“Let it be known that Sansa of house Stark and Domeric of house Towers are one heart. One Flesh. One soul. Cursed be they who would seek to tear them asunder. You may kiss your wife, Ser Domeric.”
Domeric leaned in and Sansa did as well. The kiss sealed their union and the people in the Godswood cheered.
“And now we can fuckin' eat!” Lord Tormund Giantsbane roared from the back, drawing laughs here and there. The Lord of Oakenshield grinned under his red beard, looking pleased with himself. Even though relations between the Northern most lords and the rest had not been as strong as before, Locke appreciated the humor and laughed himself silly.
“You heard, Lord Giantsbane, to the main hall with you!” Eddard shouted with a laugh and motioned for his men to usher the others away. Brandon and Benjen followed after, to help with the crowd control, especially since some of them started to moo like cows in jest. “Stay with us, you two.” He said to the newly wed couple. “We'll escort you in.”
Sansa's brothers, Lord Eddard, Harlon, Markus and Locke closed ranks around them, and walked at a more sedate pace than the rest. The hairs on the back of Locke's neck stood up and he turned his head to the side, feeling like he was being watched.
“What is it?” Harlon asked him as the others stopped.
“I thought -” Locke stopped, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the torch he carried. “I thought someone was there.” He pointed to the side and looked back at his brother. Harlon, for his part, stared at where Locke pointed as he cold see in the dark, before looking at his brother.
“There's no one there,” He said, though there was an odd tone in his voice. Almost like he though he was missing something but he didn't know what.
“My mistake then,” Locke murmured, not quite shaking the feeling he had. He glanced at the newly weds. “My apologies.”
Domeric looked at him in concern but Sansa looked....more pale than usual, as if the blood had left her face. How strange, Locke thought to himself.
“We should continue then,” Lord Eddard said, looking to where Locke pointed before looking ahead of them. They continued to walk and Locke didn't look back but he still felt eyes on him and his family.
Unknown, the Godswood of Winterfell
They sensed me, he thought in wonder and delight. They were strong, and maybe he could take one of their bodies or even one of their daughters to wife. He needed to further his powers somehow.
But he put those plans out of his mind for now. He could feel his siblings heading in his direction and he couldn't fight all of the Northmen without fighting them too. So as his brothers and sisters rounded the tree behind him, he disappeared in a cloud of black smoke that shot into the air and traveled South.
The Children watched the cloud fade into nothing and gritted their teeth. They almost had him! Now they needed to report to Lord Rickard and help build more defenses against their brother.
Sigil for House Towers of Roger Hall, formerly House Bolton of the Dreadfort. Once a great house, their holdings have been reduced and now they are the equivalent of Northern Landed Knights. Both Sansa and Domeric hope to bring honor to their house and collaborated on this banner.
