"Who'd have thought the next time we were in front of one it'd be to break your vows twice over?" Sam asked with a laugh as he and Jon stood before the heart tree in Winterfell's godswood.
Jon nodded, adjusting the clothing Sansa had prepared for him. He felt ridiculous wearing a black doublet with slashes of red satin under a dark gray jerkin with white embroidery along the edges. He'd been dreading the idea of wearing two cloaks, but they'd opted to skip a cloak ceremony, leaving him in a black one with a crimson inlet. Though no longer a bastard, it felt fitting his wedding would be a bastard born of the Seven and the Old Gods.
"I feel like a jester," he sighed.
"You need to look the part," Sam told him, brushing snow from Jon's shoulder. "This will be something people speak of for generations."
With a relenting nod, Jon looked to Sam with a grin. "How angry would they be if they saw me in my training gear?"
Sam chuckled. "If you get us through this you could spend the rest of your reign as the nude king and I doubt anyone would say a word."
In the lord's room Sansa turned to the others after looking over her white gown with gray embroidery. She'd come to know Jon preferred her hair down, so brushed it as straight as she could before braiding the sides back to keep it from her face.
"You look pretty," Rickon said with an assuring nod.
"You sure about this?" Arya asked, her arms crossed as she looked her sister over.
Sansa nodded. "Even if Father or Robb were alive I'd have considered asking you. Who would know better if I'm worthy of him than his sister?"
In the great hall Daenerys adjusted her own gown. She'd thought to wear an Essosi dress but they'd known it would be too cold, and now that it was snowing again she was thankful. She'd relented on having a mostly white dress, though it still had black and red across the chest and folds of her skirt.
"You don't need to do this," she said with a sympathetic smile. "I don't want to be cruel."
"No man could be more worthy of you, your grace," Jorah said solemnly. "I give you gladly."
Daenerys took his hands. "Thank you, Ser Jorah."
Lanterns carved a path toward the heart tree after the sun set, guiding the quartet to where the lords and ladies gathered in Winterfell stood watching them, yet both brides barely cast them a glance as their eyes found Jon. He greeted them with a smile, warming them even as flecks of snow gently swirled and fell around them.
While Sam stood off to Jon's side on the other, before the heart tree, stood a septon and Bran in his chair. "Who comes before the Old Gods?" asked Bran, looking to Daenerys and Sansa.
The four exchanged a brief look before Jorah spoke. "Daenerys of House Targaryen comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the gods."
Arya then spoke. "Sansa of House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the gods."
Bran glanced at Jon. "Who comes to claim them?"
"Aegon of House Targaryen and Stark, King of Westeros." Jon looked to them both before asking, "Who gives them?"
"Jorah of House Mormont," he said pridefully, "sworn sword to Daenerys Targaryen."
"Arya of House Stark," she said with a nod, "sister to Sansa Stark."
At that the septon stepped forward, ushering the women to approach. They moved to either side of Jon, who turned to face the septon with them. Jon's left hand held Daenerys' while his right took Sansa's left, the women then entwined their open hands together as the septon began binding each pair in a strip of silken cloth while speaking.
"In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these three souls, binding them as one for eternity." Stepping back he motioned for them to turn. "Look upon one another and say the words."
The three moved so they could face one another, looking into the eyes of the others as they spoke. "Father, smith, warrior, mother, maiden, crone, stranger. I am theirs and they are mine. From this day until the end of my days."
They smiled to one another, having planned ahead so that each kissed the corner of Jon's mouth.
The feast was far from the extravagant affairs Jon imagined a King's wedding would be but much more than he ever thought his could have been. While they'd had a minstrel some nights in the form of Tom of Sevenstreams, who came in with the men of the Brotherhood Without Banners, Sansa had rounded up enough men to have a band playing songs all night. Jon hadn't put up a fight about dancing, knowing it would mean a lot to Sansa, but found a certain joy in teaching Daenerys a northern dance.
When he wasn't dancing with one of the many ladies gathered, Jon found time to swiftly take swigs of whatever he could. Normally he did his best to keep from falling too deep in his cups, but if he was going to make a fool of himself he'd drink until he didn't care.
It took a while, but eventually he found himself sat at the high table with his left hand on his chin while his right tapped the arm of his chair. His eyes took in the sight of Daenerys as she spoke with Davos and Wyman Manderly, slinking across to where Sansa laughed at one of Tormund's jokes alongside Gendry, Edmure Tully, and a snickering Jaime Lannister.
Jon rose to his feet and walked with enough purpose that people parted, clearing a path for him. Those around Daenerys glanced at him, her only warning being their backing away before Jon's arms wrapped around her and pulled her over his left shoulder.
"Jon!" She exclaimed, smacking his shoulder.
The room burst into laughter as Jon made his way toward Sansa, who turned and shook her head. "Jon, we said we-" She cut herself off with a yelp as he slipped an arm around her and pulled her over his right shoulder. Patting his back she declared, "You're not stealing us!"
"Looks like he is, lass," Tormund said with a laugh as they spun around and Jon carried them out of the room full of laughing and cheering lords and ladies.
Daenerys sighed, looking to Sansa. "This is ridiculous."
"You're ridiculous," Jon snapped back, slurring slightly.
Sansa shook her head, holding back a laugh as she gently tapped his shoulder. "Okay we're out of the hall, you can let us down."
"I'll put you down on the bed," Jon said turning a corner, "before I strip you and have you soaking so I can have my fill."
Sansa shared a wide eyed glance with Daenerys, who smirked as she asked, "Who are you talking to? I'll be disappointed if it's not me."
"Both of you," he said shoving his foot into the door of his new room, throwing open the door. The maids had already light the hearth and a few candles, meaning Jon could walk straight in and kick the door closed before heading straight to the bed and dumping both women on the large mattress.
Sansa snickered seeing him look at them both hungrily. "You must have gone deep into your cups."
"Near the bottom," he assured with a laugh. "Now…" He groaned, removing his cloak and tossing it on a chair. "Those are too pretty for me to tear away, but I can't wait long."
Daenerys laughed, delighted by the chance to see Jon sloshed but coherent. Looking to Sansa she arched her brow as if to ask if she was sure about this, and Sansa took a breath, nodding. "Could you help me?" She asked, standing and presenting her back to Daenerys.
"Only if you do the same," Daenerys said getting to her feet.
Jon watched Daenerys undoing the laces of Sansa dress and sighed. "Gods I hope I remember this."
The sun had risen well before Jon awoke, a first in months. For a moment he'd thought that not only had Sansa given them bigger beds but more comfortable ones, but then he realized the mattress had little to do with it. Daenerys was laying on her side with her arm across Jon's torso while Sansa was on her back in his arm resting her head on his shoulder.
He couldn't tell if he sat there for hours or minutes, watching each breath and thanking the gods for each one they took. Daenerys groaned, shifting against him before turning away from him. Her hand reached for his right under her, turning to face him with a grin while pulling his arm around her.
Daenerys wore a wry smile as she pressed her lips to his chest. He looked from Sansa to Daenerys, who shrugged in response as she slid up and kissed his collar. As if to warn her he reached his hand around her and clasped her breast, making her laugh.
Sansa groaned, turning to her left before going right and turning onto her side, sliding further up until her hair was in Jon's face. Daenerys snickered as he winced and pulled his face away from the hairs tickling his nose. Sansa's eyes blinked up, looking confused by Daenerys' quiet laughter until she told Sansa, "You're torturing him."
Sliding back she looked to Jon and saw him wiggle his nose, wanting desperately to scratch it but unwilling to take his arms from them. Sansa dozily chuckled, reaching up to rub the tip of his nose. He let out a sigh of relief, squeezing his arm around her. "Thank you." He looked to Daenerys. "I blame you."
"For wanting to kiss my husband?" She asked innocently while kissing his collar again.
"For starting without me, I'd bet," Sansa said with a laugh, kissing his jaw.
Jon sucked in a breath as Daenerys grinned up at him, having taken him in hand beneath the furs. Sansa glanced down before pressing her hand over his heart scar to lift herself and take his lips in hers.
All three were startled by pounding on their door, which Jon answered by yelling, "Go away!"
"Your grace!" Davos' voice came through the door, "They're near the Wall."
Jon sat up as Sansa and Daenerys gasped. Cursing, Jon leapt over Sansa to escape the bed, rushing over to pull on his small clothes and glancing back to make sure they were covered before he unlatched the door and stepped out into the hall.
Davos frowned, holding out a letter Jon took and quickly scanned. "We'll need time to get everyone ready to march."
"Ready a company," Jon told him. "I'll ride ahead with them and we can help secure Eastwatch."
"I'll find the best I can," Davos nodded. He flashed Jon an apologetic smile. "I wouldn't have interrupted if it weren't grave."
Jon nodded. "I know. Go. Try to have them ready to leave by midday."
He turned back, entering once Davos departed. Daenerys and Sansa were getting dressed, a small part of Jon disappointed but knowing they would have busy mornings.
"How far?" Sansa asked, glancing at the letter in his hands.
"About a month out."
"We can't move everyone by then," said Daenerys. "It took long enough to move just the Dothraki and Unsullied."
"I'm leaving you two in charge while I take a company ahead," Jon said tossing the letter on a table and going to his chest to pick out riding clothes.
"You can't just leave," Sansa said turning to him.
"I need to be there," he said pulling on a pair of breeches. "If something happens I need to be there."
"And die?" Daenerys asked with a scoff.
"This isn't up for debate," he said firmly, looking to them both. "They're my brothers and even if we rush we won't be there in time. If they manage to hold out then I need to help them. And I need you two here making sure Gendry finishes more valyrian steel weapons, at least enough for everyone we've talked about so far. Everyone else needs to have dragonglass."
Daenerys crossed her arms. "You'll take Rhaegal with you."
Jon sighed. "Are you sure?" She stared at him silently and he nodded. "I won't ride him there though. I won't be any help alone."
"Take the Brotherhood," Sansa told him. "They wanted to be there originally. I'll ask Sandor to guard you."
"Sansa-"
"Don't," she warned. "I can accept you leaving, but not without someone I trust guarding you. Not this time."
Jon's jaw shifted. "He's not a kingsguard."
Sansa rolled her eyes. "He is if I say so."
"Jorah as well," Daenerys said with a nod. "At least for this."
Jon frowned to both women. "I'm sorry."
They shared a glance before shaking their heads. "It's not your fault," said Daenerys.
"Just come back," demanded Sansa.
They dressed as best they could before moving to their rooms on either side of Jon's and dressing for the day, storing their wedding gowns away before going ahead to help gather men to ride with Jon. He took some time to pack his old armor and spare clothes before making his way to the yard.
When he arrived he found Ser Davos, Daenerys and Sansa stood beside a motley crew, most of whom wielded valyrian steel. The thin, fox faced Tom of Sevenstreams sat atop a horse fiddling with a harp while Beric Dondarrian and Thoros of Myr examined the valyrian steel greatsword Sandor secured to his horse. Jorah Mormont was stood with Theon Greyjoy, who wore a northern style valyrian steel sword on his hip.
Rodrik Ryswell was giving the sword they gave him to his eldest son, Roger, who stood beside a red stallion. Bronn of Blackwater was looking over the dragonglass daggers he tucked into his belt while Jaime spoke with Brienne, the two sharing a smile and nod before Brienne went to Sansa's side.
Jon watched Tormund walk up to Brienne, grinning wildly as he carefully swung the bearded valyrian steel axe off his shoulder, letting the head sit on the ground as he told Brienne. "If I return, I intend to fight you."
The others blinked. "What?" Brienne asked incredulously.
"I know you southron don't have the same custom, but I doubt you'd be with a man who couldn't beat you. So I'll fight you however you want until you see that our children would surely be beautiful giants that could conqueror the world."
Sansa wasn't the only one to grin as she glanced at Brienne. Off by his horse Jaime arched his brow while Brienne crossed her arms. "And you think beating me will make me want to bear your children."
"I think beating you will make you stop ignoring me," Tormund said with a gruff laugh, "and then you'll want to bear them as much as I want you to."
Brienne's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the tall woman wanting to shrink away. "Fine. Come back and I'll fight you."
Tormund grinned, picking up his axe and walking toward his horse feeling like he could take on the entire wight army himself.
Jon started to laugh until he saw Willam Snow bringing their houses from the stables alongside Arya. He stormed over shaking his head. "No."
Arya swiftly crossed her arms and glared at him. "You think you can stop me?"
"Arya, no. This isn't going around slitting Frey throats. They don't care whose face you wear as they kill you."
"I can still fight," she scoffed. "I could beat you."
"No."
Arya stepped to him. "Fight me now, and if I beat you I go."
Jon looked down to her eyes as the others looked on them. "You could poke me full of holes. I won't fight you."
"I'm your kingsguard."
"I already have two," Jon said glancing over to Jorah and Sandor.
"I'm the Lord Commander then," she said firmly.
He saw in her eyes she would go no matter what he said. He could lock her in a cell and she'd find a way out. "If you go, you're not my kingsguard. You take orders from me. If I say go you go. If I say stop you stop."
"Should I find a collar?" Arya scoffed.
"If it makes it easier for you to listen," shrugged Jon. "We need to work together on this Arya. I can't have you doing whatever you want."
Her face softened and she nodded. "Alright."
Jon squeeze her shoulder, leaning down until their foreheads were touching as he stared into her eyes. "You're not alone anymore. We're stronger a pack, but only if we work together."
Arya smirked, awkwardly nodding against his head. "Okay."
Standing straight he found Sansa smiling as they approached, her gaze shifting to Arya. "Don't just protect him, protect yourself, okay?"
"Make sure Gendry eats?" Arya asked sheepishly.
"I'll make sure," Sansa nodded, stepping forward to hug her sister.
Arya gave a thankful smile as she returned the hug. "I'll make sure Jon isn't too stupid."
Daenerys caught her eye as they separated. "Please take care of yourself, Arya." Arya blinked in shock. "I'd rather not lose my sister."
With a smirk Arya nodded toward Sansa. "If I'm you good sister then isn't she?"
"She's my wife," Daenerys said with a haughty smirk while Sansa shook her head, amused. "I suppose sister-wife works, but you would still be my only sister."
Arya gave a relenting nod. "Okay. If I must have another sister, at least it's one with dragons."
Daenerys snickered while Sansa clicked her tongue. Her playful glare at Arya ended when she saw Daenerys turned to Jon and grabbed his right hand, removing his glove. He blinked in surprised, watching her pull a violet ribbon from her dress and tie it beside the blue one he'd tied there.
Jon watched her with a smile, watching her try to put his glove back on before helping her, pulling it tight and flexing his fingers. That same hand then caught her chin, holding it as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. He turned to Sansa and kissed her cheek as well.
"I'll send word if I can once we arrive." Jon mounted his horse causing the men gathered to do the same, ready to meet the rest gathered outside Winterfell.
Standing on the walls of Winterfell and watching Jon's party speed north, Sansa found her hand in Daenerys'. While others surely worried for their king, Sansa felt better knowing there was another concerned for the man he was. Though she may not spend the next weeks holding her hand, it was nice to know she could rely on Daenerys' support as much as she could rely on Sansa's. She might have been a dragon, but she was one of their pack now, same as Jon.