The Dragon & The Wolf - XXXVII (Patreon)

Chapter XXXVII: From this day until our last day. Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, the Realm’s Delight, the Heiress o

Chapter XXXVII: From this day until our last day.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, the Realm’s Delight, the Heiress of the Iron Throne, felt like her heartbeat was making her whole body shake with excitement and fear. Today was the day, the day of her wedding.

Lyanna Manderly, Lara Karstark and Talia Forrester, her northern handmaidens, had all worked tirelessly to make her a wedding dress worthy of her. And even though they could not possibly imitate the work of the seamstresses of Essos, whose work had filled the Princess’ wardrobe across the years, Rhaenyra could not imagine herself in another dress. Her northern handmaidens had managed to marry Valyrian elegance and Northern simplicity. The primary fabric was a fine wool in radiant white, evoking pristine snow, woven with silver threads that catch the light like stars. The long, fitted sleeves protected her against the cold, while the subtly cinched bodice accentuates her graceful figure. A long train, adorned with patterns of heart tree leaves, flowed behind her like a mantle of snow. A cape of ermine fur, edged with black velvet, was fastened at her shoulders with clasps shaped like dragon scales, a nod to her heritage. Her platinum hair, woven into an elaborate crown of braids, is adorned with white pearls and small, faceted crystals, evoking ice and fire.

Intricate embroidery in black and silver thread depicted three dragons, entwined with one another. 

Finally, a delicate silver circlet, a gift from Arthur, rested on her brow, engraved with Northern runes and subtle wolf and dragon emblems.

Rhaenyra had wanted to add wolves, to symbolize the union of their houses, but Arthur had been against it:

"I won’t wear any kind of dragons, there will be far too much wolves if you add some to your dress. Moreover, you’re not becoming a Stark, you are to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, wear your dragons with pride and leave the wolves to Shadow and I."

Such had been his words. He had been right of course, none of them needed to wear the sigil of the other when they would have Shadow and Syrax at the wedding.

Rhaenyra looked at herself in the mirror, her violet eyes radiated with meticulous scrutiny, for what felt like hours, she searched for the smallest flaw to remove, the one imperfection that would, she was sure, ruin everything.

When she found none, she turned towards her handmaidens to ask for their opinion, and rose an eyebrow in disbelief when she realized they were all quietly making fun of her worried state.

"Don’t laugh, ladies." She said in mock-outrage. "You are all bound to be as anxious as I am when it will be time for your wedding day."

"We are sorry, Princess." Lara said, bowing. "Is everything all right?"

"Honestly? I’m not sure if I want to run to the heart tree in excitement or hide in the closet out of fear."

She giggled with them, trying to rationalize her fear and ease her nerves. 

"How do you like your dress?" Talia asked.
Rhaenyra looked at the mirror once more, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and smiled.

"Arthur better not tear it off or he’ll spend our wedding night with blue balls."

The Northern Ladies’ eyes widened like saucers, and they all laughed at their Princess’ words.

Rhaenyra smiled, because she was happy and because she did not want to look anxious on her wedding day.
Things had happened so fast since her father had given his consent, his trip to Winterfell had taken him days, and when he had arrived, he had looked as pale as a ghost.

Under any other circumstances, he would have looked weak, but with Lord Rickon dying and the reputation Rhaenyra had forged for herself after fighting the wildlings alongside Arthur, they had all bowed in respect when their Princess and Regent went to support the King as he got out of his wheelhouse.
Viserys, despite his state, had declared with a smile as bright as he could have mustered:

"Please rise, my lords and ladies, I thank you for welcoming me into your peaceful land, I must say, it smells far better than in the Capital."

Those words had drawn a few chuckle from the crowd, Viserys had added:

"I wish I had the means to give you a better image of your King, unfortunately, even a man capable of riding Balerion the Black Dread is vulnerable to the Gods’ trials, be it the ones designed by the Old or the New. Fortunately, I find myself at peace, not just because you land is as beautiful as it is quiet, but because I did not come here to dwell on a dying past, but to rejoice in perspective of a bright future."

He had squeezed both Arthur’s and Rhaenyra’s shoulder, and had added:

"Your Lord Regent, Arthur of House Stark, as asked for the Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen’s hand in marriage, and I have consented."

A whirlwind of murmurs and stun faces had echoed this announce, Viserys had kept on going:

"So, for the days and the wedding to come, I seek to share with you the joy and the hopes that will come with this unique union, to celebrate with you the wedding between Ice and Fire themselves, and I ask, for a horn of the strongest northern ale you have, so that I can drown the melancoly of seeing my little girl married."

Laughter and a hearty cheer rose from the crowd of northerners who had gathered in the courtyard of Winterfell. Rhaenyra had been impressed by her father’s eloquence, despite his sorry state, he had managed to win the Northerners over.

She smiled as she remembered his arrival, and rolled her eyes in amusement when she remembered the incident that had happened this morning.

Arthur and his uncle had a little squabble, for old Rickon, despite his terrible state, his loud breath, his bloody eyes, his skinny body and his trembling hands, had decided that he would preside their wedding as was his duty as Lord of Winterfell and head of his family.
"I won’t be here to preside Cregan’s!" He had argued. "I’ll at least do it for Arthur."

Arthur had refused, had called him a stubborn old mule, and claimed that he was going to collapse during the middle of the ceremony or at the feast. Rickon had then punched Arthur in the face, but with his weakened state, he did less damage than a fleabite.

Arthur had frowned so deeply at his uncle, Rhaenyra had thought he had been about to chain him to his bed, but Rickon had then pointed a bony finger at his nephew and claimed.

"I’m still your lord, boy! And until I draw my last breath, you will do as I command!"

"It’s my wedding, old man, and if your damn pride ruins it, I swear I’ll…"

"That’s enough!" Rhaenyra had commanded, ending this argument despite her hidden amusement. "Lord Rickon is right, presiding our wedding before the Old Gods is his prerogative. However…"

She had looked at the old man with a severe gaze that only a woman could give to a man. 

"If you ruin our wedding… I’m feeding your corpse to Syrax."

Sara Snow had been scandalized, Cregan had opened his mouth in horror, but Arthur had smirked. Rickon, on the other hand, had bowed simply nodded.

"I’m old enough to know that ruining the wedding of a woman in love is a mistake no man should ever make. I’ll preside this wedding, I’ll live until it is done, even if your wedding day ends up being my last day, I won’t fail you."

Her Father, who had heard of this argument from her, had chuckled.

"What a strange family you’ve decided to marry into, Rhaenyra. It is even stranger that you look far happier than I have ever seen you."

Rhaenyra had smiled, yes, she was happy, and anxious about the wedding and how the Realm would react once the lords have heard of it. Arthur had had the idea of sending messages to every lord of the Realm, inviting them to their wedding in the great sept in the South, making it all look like the one they were about to have was simply a formality that meant nothing.
But he, as well as her, knew better, their actual wedding was today, today, they would become husband and wife, today, she would give him her maidenhead.

She was worried about so many things, her dress, the wedding, the south, her father’s health, Rickon Stark’s health, the bedding, the Walkers, the Future… Would everything be all right? 

She would not get an answer to all her questions today, for now, all she could do was take another deep breath, and try and relax.

She still had time, the wedding would start at the hour of the Wolf, that meant she had time to kill and she refused to spend it in her room running circles and panicking. But she also did not want Arthur to see her dress before the wedding, so she sent her handmaidens to check the corridor outside her room and make sure it was empty except for the guards. Her father’s room was close, with Ser Steffon and Ser Harrold guarding it, her Father had given her the twins, Arryk and Erryk to watch over her while she was in Winterfell, those two where now guarding her door.

Rhaenyra quickly got out of her room to rush towards her father’s under the looks of awe and amusement of the white cloaks.

She entered without knocking, out of fear of wasting unnecessary time that would have risen the chances of Arthur seeing her.
Her father was resting in an upholstered armchair, he breathing heavily, Maester Alim was with him, he had his arms under his king’s armpits to help him breath. Viserys’ eyes shone in excitement, joy, awe and melancholy when he saw his daughter.

"Dear Gods." He murmured as Maester Alim released him. "You are magnificent, Rhaenyra."

Rhaenyra spun on her heels so that her father could fully admire her handmaidens’ work. The King chuckled.

"When I imagined your wedding, I never expected you to wear a dress with wool. And I certainly did not imagine you so happy. You wedding has been a constant subject of conflict between us over the last years… I’m happy it will know such a good conclusion."

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes in amusement, when was the last time her father and her had shared such a moment, she picked a chair and went to sit by his side.

"How is he, Maester?"

"A trip North was, I’m afraid, an unwise decision for his Grace’s health." The Celtigar said.

"Nonsense, the Northern air has made me feel more alive than I have been in a long time. I’m simply exhausted from this trip." Viserys denied.

Rhaenyra sighed, but smiled at him, she was too happy today to get into an argument with him.

"What effect will the journey back to King’s Landing have on him?"

The Maester grimaced.

"I fear it will only make things worse." He confessed. "His Grace needs to rest, and another long journey could have some serious repercussions on him."

"Can you two please stop talking as if I wasn’t in the room?" Viserys complained.

"Apologies, your Grace." Maester Alim bowed.

Rhaenyra grimaced, she did not want her happiness to have severe consequences on her father, she did not want such a happy day to end up causing a crueler one. So she thought about a solution.

"Will his stay North be beneficial, though?"

"I believe it will, Princess, I’ve been to the capital and I doubt the cruel lack of hygiene there is has done his Grace any favors. The North might be considered a desolated land by many, but no one can dispute the fact that its air is clean. And the cold might help with his Grace’s fever."

"Good." Rhaenyra nodded. "You may leave us."

Maester Alim bowed and exited the room, leaving only father and daughter.

Viserys looked at Rhaenyra with suspicion, knowing fully well that the glint in her purple eyes meant that she just had an idea.

"About the journey back…" She said. "… Would you be tempted to fly with me, on Syrax?"

Viserys’ eyebrows shot up to the ceiling.

"Rhaenyra… I haven’t flown since I was a young man… I’m not sure if I could…"

"You can. And you need to. It’s been too long since you’ve flown on a dragon’s back, because of Balerion’s death, you and I have never shared a flight together, and it will considerably shorten our trip back to the Capital."

Viserys rose his hand in appeasement.

"I do not deny any of the facts that you’ve mentioned, Rhaenyra, but I can’t simply fly back to King’s Landing without my escort, without my Kingsgards, without my procession."

"Then we will organize ourselves, we will instruct some of the knights and kingsguards to leave before us and to wait for our arrivals on dragon’s back in specific inns where we will stop for the night and where they will guard us while we sleep. If we’re well organized, we will be welcomed in each of our stops by enough men to protect us, this way, they won’t be too far behind once we land in the Capital."

Viserys looked at his daughter with a tired gaze and smile, he was impressed by her idea, but the organization of such an operation…

"It is to preserve your health, Father." She insisted. "And to share a flight with you, something we have never done."

Viserys closed his mouth, trying to find a counter argument, but in the end he wondered, what for? Rhaenyra’s plan was a sound one, that would help him preserve his health, shorten considerably a journey that had left him exhausted, and share a flight with his daughter for the first time. He had nothing of substance to answer to her reasoning.

"Very well…" He conceded with a sigh. "We will organize our journey back after your wedding… Speaking of this, how do you feel?"

Rhaenyra smiled timidly and looked away, she felt herself blush but could not reprimand it.

Viserys could not help but chuckle.

"I was as worried as you were the day I married your mother, I do not know why, but I thought for sure that something horrible would happen and ruin everything. But the moment I saw her in her wedding dress, I forgot about all my worries, fortunately, I had thought about closing my mouth, otherwise your mother would have thought she was marrying a fish."

Rhaenyra burst out laughing, imagining a younger version of her father dancing from one foot to the other in front of the High Septon.

"You know…" Viserys added. "For so long I had hoped to see you wed and happy, now that the moment has finally come, I regret pressing you so much… Where have the years gone? Not so long ago, you were running in the corridors of the Red Keep, trying to escape from your lessons with the septa."

"I was always looking for you." Rhaenyra laughed as she remembered. "I knew that if I clang to your leg long enough, you’d free me from her tyranny."

"Your Mother reproached me of being lax with you. But even her could not deny you anything once you started crying."

Rhaenyra smiled, remembering her mother trying to reprimand her, she had always ended up conceding defeat, picking her up and gently rubbed her back to make her stop crying, before gently asking her to listen to her and to not do it again.

Thinking about her mother and the memories she had of her always made her sad, sometimes, she wanted to go back to those simpler time. Looking for the solace they had brought her despite the fact she had been too young to realize it.

Her eyes wandered to the window and lost themselves in the horizon, the images of the potential children she would have with Arthur came back to her mind, and despite the initial joy she felt as she imagined them, the memory of her Mother’s difficult pregnancies and miscarriages filled her mind with worries. The conversations she had had with Alys Rivers and Arthur regarding this subject had reassured her, but still… Would everything truly be all right?

"Rhaenyra?" Viserys called, seeing his daughter lost in her thoughts. "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine." She quickly answered. "I was just thinking about Mother."

A short yet solemn moment of silence passed between father and daughter, both lowered their eyes, thinking about the missing member of their family.

"I doubt she would have approved of your wedding at first." Viserys chuckled. "She had a terrible opinion regarding Northerners."

"I had a terrible opinion regarding Northerners before I met Arthur." Rhaenyra replied, scoffing a little. "Sometimes, Arthur justifies by himself why I had a terrible opinion of his people."

Both Father and daughter laughed at that. Rhaenyra took a deep breath and tried to relax:

"I’m afraid." She ended up confessing. "Not just about the wedding, but about everything that will follow. I don’t know if I can…"

"Rhaenyra…" Viserys sighed, yet a smiled. "Today is not the day you have to worry about the whole Realm and its future. Hells, I’m its King and I don’t want to care about any of this, because today is your day. The day you will get to enjoy yourself fully and focus on you and your husband to be. Please, daughter, do not let your doubts breath for today. Just think about the wedding, about your betrothed and about the feast, for there is nothing that matters more as of this moment."

Rhaenyra felt a warmth rise in her chest, she exhaled to relax and hugged her father. Viserys was so moved by this simple gesture he had to wipe away some tears. Since Rhaenyra had confessed her love towards Arthur, his daughter and he had shared more loving moments in the past weeks than they’ve had in years. Viserys was happy, happy to see his daughter so full of joy, happy to see that his mistakes and decisions had led to this moment, happy to see that everything was, for the first time in years, all right.

"I’m surprised Northern weddings are so short." He admitted as he made sure not to damage his daughter’s dress.

"It’s for the best, considering Lord Rickon’s health." Rhaenyra said, hoping the Lord of Winterfell would not faint or die during the ceremony. "The feast will be long, I wager."

"I hope so." Viserys said with a wink.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes in amusement.

"Do not abuse Northern hospitality, Father. Remember you’re still…"

"It’s my daughter’s wedding day." Viserys protested with a smile.

"And said daughter wants to keep her father for a little bit longer. Do not force me to organize funerals a day after my wedding."

Rhaenyra had spoken those words with a smile of her own, but deep down, she actually feared for her father’s health. Viserys gently rubbed her back.

"I’ll retire as soon as you do." Viserys promised. "So that I can enjoy your wedding for as long as I can."

"That is a deal."

(-)(-)(-)

Unlike the lavish weddings of the Faith of the Seven, a wedding according to the rites of the Old Gods was a simple ceremony, imbued with solemnity and a connection to nature. According to Arthur, Rhaenyra knew that no priest nor formal officiant was necessary, as the Old Gods require no intermediary; the presence of the Heart Tree is sufficient. However, for the wedding to be legal in the eyes of men, it was a common occurrence to have a figure of authority preside the wedding and witness the exchange of cloaks and oaths. Such was Rickon Stark’s role in this ceremony. As she walked between the ranks of Northerners and knights, that stood on each side of her path towards the Heart Tree of Winterfell’s Godswood, Rhaenyra gripped her father’s arms with anxiety, even though she made sure her face was a mask of confidence.

In this fresh evening, the Godswood was bathed in the soft cold light of the full moon, filtered through the boughs of pines and the Great Heart tree, its red leaves seeming to bleed gently in the winter breeze. A thin layer of snow blanketed the ground, sparkling under the pale rays of the moon and the light of the torches, while the air carried the scent of resin. 

Rhaenyra’s violet eyes gleamed with ardent passion for her betrothed the moment she saw him waiting by his uncle’s side. Syrax and Shadow were resting from each side of the Heart tree, their eyes locked on her.

Arthur’s calm and steady presence seemed to complement her inner fear, yet he could not hide from her anymore, as she looked into his beautiful grey eyes, Rhaenyra almost chuckled when she saw a glint of fear.

Yet, their love was palpable in the glances they exchanged, full of promises and tenderness, despite the gravity of the moment. Viserys, despite his apparent weakness, remained strong as he brought her closer to the Heart Tree. 

Rhaenyra was amazed by Rickon Stark’s discipline though, despite the fact that he seemed to be about to collapse under the weight of his cloak, he managed to conduct himself with fragile dignity, using his cane to keep himself steady and strong despite his obvious thinness.

"Who comes before the Old Gods?!" Rickon Stark demanded, his voice hoarse, yet his authority remained.

"Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms." She recited the oaths perfectly, despite their shortness, she had been so stressed over them she had spent days reciting them in her room.

"Who claims her?"

"I, Arthur of House Stark, Lord Regent of Winterfell." 

Arthur’s voice as strong as ever, betraying no sign of anxiety, only deep northern solemnity.

"Who gives her?"

"I, Viserys of House Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, her Father."

Arthur had advised Viserys not to cite all of his titles, Viserys had chosen the latest two, knowing the Northerners might not like hearing him proclaim he was the King of the First Men.

The King let go of his daughter’s arm who went to stand next to her soon to be husband. Rhaenyra and Arthur exchanged a reassuring smile.

"Princess Rhaenyra." Rickon’s voice sounded even hoarser now. "Do you take this man?"

She looked at him, from head to toes, and felt her heart swell.

"Yes… I take this man."

"Arthur of House Stark." Now Rickon sounded severe, earning a risen eyebrow from his nephew. "Do you take this woman? Do you swear to protect her, to honor her and to provide for her? Do you swear in front of the Old Gods?"

Rhaenyra knew for sure those words were not traditional, but apparently, Rickon wanted Arthur to remember him for the rest of his life. Arthur frowned at his uncle, Rhaenyra wanted to laugh.

"Not only do I take this woman, but I swear in front of the Old Gods to protect her, to honor her, and to provide whatever she needs of me." Arthur answered, warming his betrothed’s heart despite her struggle to keep a straight face.

"Then cloak your bride and place her under your protection."

This part, Arthur had offered to have it modified for the occasion, since Rhaenyra is not to take his name despite their wedding, Rhaenyra would cloak him in return to symbolize his role as her consort to be once she sits the throne.
So after Arthur had taken off her cloak to give her his, Rhaenyra, in turn, cloaked Arthur with a Targaryen cloak after he had lowered himself to her size.

"From what I saw Beyond the Wall, you need mine as much as I need yours." She meant to whisper, but some northerners heard her and chuckled.

"From what I saw Beyond the Wall, you need two of mine." He replied, his tone as loud as hers.

She stomped his foot to shut him up despite her amusement, low giggles went through the ranks of the witnesses like a cold breeze. Rhaenyra was sure she heard her father laugh.

"In the eyes of the Old Gods, I declare you husband and wife, may your union be blessed by them."

Arthur instantly grabbed Rhaenyra by her waist and drew her in for a kiss. Despite her surprise, she locked her arms around his neck and kissed him back under the cheers of the Northerners and the sober claps of the southern knights.

Shadow howled in celebration as Syrax roared, Rhaenyra bit Arthur’s lower lip, as if to mark him as hers.

"You’re mine!" She wanted to scream it to the world, instead, she clawed his clothes like a dragon clawed a piece of meat. "You’re mine! Mine! My husband! Mine!"

(-)(-)(-)

The least Rhaenyra could say about Northern feasts, were that they were far more festive than southern feasts.

Northerners were loud, yet joyous, they cheered as much as they drank, sang like joyous bulls and hit each others’ backs like they were slamming doors. Arthur drank a whole horn of ale under the cheers of his friends. Then, he filled it back up, and handed it to his wife. Rhaenyra rose an eyebrow, noticed all the Northerners expecting glances, smiled at her husband and downed it as she had done in King’s Landing.

The Northerners clapped for her, cheered for her, Arthur grabbed her and, without warning, threw her in the air. She screamed in surprise, even more so when Umber, Forrester, Karstark and Manderly went to join him. 

Rhaenyra had never flown that way, and even if she found it terrifying, she could not help but laugh. Something like this would have never happened in King’s Landing.

She landed in Arthur’s arms, dizzy but happy, and once she was back on her feet, she kicked him in the leg under the laughs of his friends.

The dances were simple, not elegant but joyous, and Rhaenyra enjoyed being at the center of Winterfell’s great Hall, spinning with her husband.

"You dance like a broom." She said with a mocking smile. "Why don’t you relax?!"

"I spent a year cleaning up your messes, you can’t blame me for being alert when next to you."

Those words earned him another kick and the dance earned him a kiss. Rhaenyra loved everything about this wedding.

They danced for what felt like hours, Rhaenyra losing herself in what felt like a dream.

Arthur was not the only northerner she danced with though, for Cregan found in him the courage to ask for a dance, Rhaenyra found him so adorable she could not resist. 

Arthur was challenged to an arm wrestling contest by Rogar Umber, contest that he won for he had made a full recovery since his fight beyond the Wall and since Rogar had drank too much. The northerners cheered for his victory and even Umber showed good sport by patting his back.

"This man is a bull." He groaned to Rhaenyra, she laughed when she realized he was subtly massaging his shoulder.

Once they were back at their table to enjoy their dinner after hours of fun, they sat between Rickon and Viserys who looked as exhausted as one another.

"You should go back to bed." Arthur told his uncle. "I swear if you die during this feast."

"I’ll retire when I’ll announce the bedding." Rickon stubbornly replied.

"That’s not gonna happen, you’re pale as a ghost, do you want Sara to hate Rhaenyra because you died at her wedding?"

"Don’t be ridiculous."

"Then don’t either. Go back to bed, Uncle."

Rickon tried to hold his ground, but he looked about to collapse. With a dramatic sigh, he conceded defeat.

Arthur motioned for two strong northerners to help their Lord back to his bed. Sitting at a table in the corner of the hall, Sara thanked Arthur with a nod.

Arthur and Rhaenyra started eating when Bernard Stark rose from his seat and approached the high table. Rhaenyra heard her husband groan in frustration.

"My brother has always been unreasonable." Bennard said to his daughter in law, his eyes emotionless. "Though, I must say, I found this ceremony to be rather… untraditional. What kind of woman cloaks her husband? And better yet, what kind of man allows his wife to cloak him?"

"The woman is a Princess of House Targaryen." Rhaenyra replied, firmly.

"And the man is your son." Was Arthur’s reply as he stood to face his father. "And your son does not appreciate your tone."

Bennard frowned slightly, he knew he could not start a scandal, but he was not about to allow anyone to stomp him like an ant.

"Is that a way to speak to your Father? I…"

"That’s enough." Arthur cut. "I did what I did because my wife is to be our Queen, I cannot nor will not dominate her in any way. What we did was political, nothing else, and since I know you care not about Southern politics, what is it with you? I believe your daughter in law has more than proven herself beyond the Wall."

Bennard’s eyes slightly drifted to Rhaenyra, he remained still, not willing to back away. For all his strength, Arthur was still his son.

"If I may then, dear daughter in law, I have a question; will the South accept a Stark King once you birth my grandson?"

"Our children will be named Targaryen, not Stark, no Stark can ever claim the Iron Throne." Rhaenyra replied, firm yet angrier by the second. Her Father in law threatened to ruin what had been a perfect night until now.

Bennard snorted in disdain and glared daggers at his son.

"So, is that what my son has turned out to become; a glorified breeding stallion for the descendant of our worst enemy."

"Careful, Father." Arthur warned. "I’m not above punching you, as I have proven before."

Rhaenyra rose an eyebrow at that, she had not known anything about a fist fight between father and son.

Bennard snarled, angry but disciplined.

"So be it." He almost spat. "If being a living decoration and a breeding stallion in the south is the height of your ambition, I will make my peace with it, forget about you and your existence and be done with it."

Arthur chuckled at that.

"Oh please, Father, we both know Mother has left too much of an impact on you to forget about me."

To this, Bennard actually paled for a second, then turned red in anger and spun on his heels to leave.
Rhaenyra watched him go with a frown.

"I didn’t know you had punched your Father." She said as he left the Hall. "Though I understand why."

"I punched him in the face because that cunt wanted me to pretend Cregan was a simpleton usurp him." Arthur snarled, shocking Rhaenyra. "My Father is a traditionalist, he first saw our wedding as an opportunity to turn the tide regarding Targaryen rule. Now that he understands what this is actually about, he is so disgusted he would rather hang himself than call any of our Targaryen children, his grandchildren."

"I won’t miss him." Rhaenyra sighed, she then turned her head towards her own Father.

Viserys seemed to have enjoyed northern ale and meat far too much, his plate and horn were always full, yet he looked so sad. Alarmed, Rhaenyra went to put a hand on his wrist.

"Father, are you all right?"

Viserys rose his sad eyes from his plate.

"No… Dear Gods… I had no idea it would hurt this much… Seven forgive me, you’ve grown so much…"

Arthur laughed quietly when he realized his father in law was a lot drunker than Rhaenyra had anticipated. The latter elbowed him in the ribs and suddenly got caught by her father’s arms.

"My daughter…" He cried. "You’ve grown so much… I wish your mother could see you. Happy and wed… By the Seven."

"Father in law." Arthur said, catching his attention. "You should be careful with Northern ale, do you remember the last time I offered you a Northern drink?"

Viserys burst out laughing, releasing Rhaenyra.

"By the gods! I thought my Kingsguards would kill you for sure! Do you still have some of that drink?"

"Fortunately, I don’t for I believe that is the last thing you need right now."

Viserys looked like a sad child after hearing this, Rhaenyra readjusted her dress.

"Father, I believe Arthur is right. Don’t you think you should retire for the evening?"

Viserys looked shocked for a second, then his eyes softened.

"You’re right… Of course you are… I could not have asked for a better son in law, no matter how much it hurts to see my little girl wed…"

"Father!" Rhaenyra complained, earning a chuckled from both her husband and father.

"I’m sorry… Rhaenyra… I just…" He sighed. "I just wished this was easier."

He got up with Ser Harold Westerling’s help, and repeatedly hit his table with his horn to demand silence, once obtained, he declared:

"My Lords, my ladies, everyone. This has been a splendid ceremony, and a wonderful feast! I wish I could enjoy your hospitality more often, for it is, I must say, fantastic!"

The Northerners cheered and hit their table repeatedly to celebrate, Viserys rose a hand to demand silence one more time.

"But unfortunately, my wife would kill me." He japed, earning a round of laughter. "Which only leaves me with one solution, making this day even more memorable, and I believe there is only one thing to do that."

He turned towards Rhaenyra and Arthur, who both knew full well what he meant. 

"I believe it is time, to bed the newlyweds!"

A roar followed that declaration, followed by a tremor of strikes against the tables and ground.

"To bed! To bed! To bed!"

Umber, Forrester and Karstark rushed to grab Rhaenyra and lifted her in the air like a feather, while  Lara, Lyanna, Talia and others Northern ladies went to grab Arthur.

"TO BED!" Rogar Umber roared as he led them all to Arthur’s room despite the fact that he was probably the drunkest man at the feast.

The procession climbed the stairs like a bunch of limbless goats climbed a hill, it was a miracle no one fell. Umber opened the door of Arthur’s door with a powerful kick, Karstark put Rhaenyra down, he meant to grab her dress but Shadow, who had been waiting for them in the room, pushed him away and started growing, startling the Northerners who jumped back.

"All right boys and girls!" Arthur declared, freeing himself from the ladies’ grasp. "Everyone out!"

"What?!" Rogar boomed. "Come on, Arthur! It’s tradition!"

"If any of you lay a hand on my wife’s dress, I swear I’ll beat you all to a pulp." Stark replied, as calmly as menacingly. "Now, out!"

Umber grumbled something along the lines of ‘spoilsport, keeping the dragon’s tits all to himself’ but did as his friend had commanded.

Eventually, they looked disappointed, but Rhaenyra could not help but be relieved, she loved her dress and did not want anyone to tear it, especially men whose names she barely knew.

Once they were finally alone, -Shadow went to lay before the door to make sure they would not be disturbed. Arthur let out a long sigh, Rhaenyra chuckled, but she too, felt the heat of the feast coming down.

Arthur took her hand and smiled, they both knew what was about to happen, they both wanted it to happen, but Rhaenyra wanted to do one thing before that.

She touched her silver circlet with the tip of her fingers and said:

"I have a gift for you, I meant it as a way for us to reconcile after our reunion, but since it had not been necessary, I want to give it to you as a wedding gift."

Arthur rose an eyebrow but did not stop smiling, Rhaenyra led him to a nearby chair, next to a mirror.

"Sit down and close your eyes." She instructed him, her voice laced with love.

She went to grab the leather bag she had brought with her to the North, took out what it contained and placed it on Arthur’s head who frowned slightly as he felt but failed to identify the heavy Crown of the Kings of Winter.

Rhaenyra took a short moment to admire him, she could not help but smile from ear to ear, he looked perfect, her consort, her husband, her man…

"You can open your eyes now." She whispered to his ear from behind and looked at his reaction in the mirror.

First, his frown deepened for a second, that was all it took him to identify what had been placed on his head, for his eyebrows shot open the moment he did and his eyes widened in shock.

For the first time in more than a century, the Crown of Winter, the Crown of House Stark, was adorning the head of one of Brandon the Builder’s descendant. Arthur was so shaken by what she had done that a tear ran down his cheek as his fingers reached for the crown, he took it off and examined it under every angle, like a jeweler who had find the perfect diamond.

His fingers traced the swords and runes in reverence like the most pious septon worshiped the Seven Pointed Stars, finally he looked up to her.

"Do you even know, what it means for us to have it back?"

His voice was shaking with emotions, he looked at her in awe. She had never seen him like that, but she beamed and smiled in pride and happiness.

"I don’t need to." She whispered as she knelt to take his hand. "Because what mattered to me, was that you had it."

Arthur almost laughed, but choked with emotion, he gently put the crown on his desk, placed his hands on both Rhaenyra’s cheeks and kissed her deeply.

"My wife." He murmured between two kisses. "Rhaenyra…"

Rhaenyra melted and moaned into their kiss, feeling herself losing her mind tasting her husband. Hearing him calling her his wife did things to her she did not know she could feel.

His lips brushed against her cheek and reached her ear, a mischievous tone she did not now he could produce whispered.

"You better get out of this dress right now if you don’t want me to rip it apart, dear wife of mine. Because I intend to spend our whole night between your legs, repaying your generosity."

AN: Well, it did take us a long time to reach that moment, didn't it? Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, as usual ;)