The Warden's Duty

"You agreed to the terms before Jon was even made aware of this arrangement," said Sansa as she sat with Laien, pulling apart a blood orange that had been on the wagons from Dorne. Sansa had taken the bride to be into her quarters to break their fast together, wanting to spend some time alone with her before the wedding. "You will grow to love one another. If you don't then there will come a time when you provide Jon with a son or daughter, and you will love them more than you detest being here. Far worse betrothals have been made."

"I'm not speaking of going back on our agreement," Laien bit back a scowl. "Why would someone come to love the person who's not only invaded their home, but their bed as well? Lord Targaryen will loathe me until I am returned to the dirt."

"There are very few men that would loathe a naked woman in their bed." Sansa shot back with a dry laugh. "For most men that is a dream turned true."

Laien rolled her eyes. "Yes, but from what I've been told, mostly by you, Jon isn't most men."

"He is a man, just as you are a woman." Laien watched as the young redhaired girl bit into the fruit, closing her eyes as she chewed, a moan of satisfaction muffled in her throat. "These are absolutely delicious."

Sansa's statement brought a minuscule smile to Laien's lips. For a moment she forgot of the dread that filled her, and was reminded of her childhood back in Dorne. "Blood oranges are my favorite. As a child I sat in the kitchens and watched as the women made them into jams and jellies."

Sansa offered Laien a wedge of the fruit. "I know you'll miss your home, Princess Laien, but I promise you Winterfell will make you a good home once the snow has passed. With your support and carts coming every moon things are sure to look up."

"It will be hard for your people to recover from this winter," Laien admitted. "Should you require anything more let me know and I will write my father with haste."

"Thank you," said Sansa.

"Of course." Laien gave a solitary nod. She picked at the skin beside her fingernail, and the question that weighed on her mind since she arrived spewed from her mouth without a though. "Is there anything I should know about your cousin?"

"Jon," Sansa paused as she thought, pulling another segment from the fruit and popping it into her mouth. "Jon's a good man. He's honorable. He would never allow harm to befall you. Once you marry you will be part of the Stark family, never mind his newly appointed name, he was raised a Stark and is true to our family's honor."

Laien sighed and plucked a piece of the hard bread from her plate. She wasn't hungry, but her stomach felt as if it were caving in on itself. She squeezed the bread between her forefinger and thumb, and all but threw it back onto her plate as her stomach began to clench. "Lady Sansa, you've been married before, yes?"

"I have," Sansa said. "Twice."

"Everyone knows that Dorne has a reputation of promiscuity. Every nobleman has his paramours, and even before marriage it is not uncommon to find a person sharing their bed with many others," Laien began softly, her rolling accent becoming thicker with every word, "but I have never..."

"It is painful, I will not lie to you." Sansa eyes dropped to the table momentarily. "However, it will not be the same for you as it was for me. As I said before, Jon will not harm you."

Laien clutched the cup of wine on the table before her, raising it to her nose and swirling it around the cup before taking the plunge and downing many large gulps. Her eyes were closed as she drank, having grown used to the spicy, sour taste of Dornish red long ago. She knew she wasn't acting like a proper princess - she'd only been one for such a short time - but at that very moment, she couldn't bring herself to care.



Jon and Laien were to have their ceremony in front of the Old Gods, Jon was very adamant about that. He wished the union performed in the eyes of his Gods. Since Jon himself was head of their house, and Bran had refused the offer, Samwell Tarly was to perform the ceremony. He knew the words now, since he and Gilly had wed a few years prior, and was honored to tears when Jon asked.

The night had brought only light flurries, and only accumulated a bit less than an inch more than what had blanketed the ground earlier that morning. It was eerily beautiful, Laien thought as she waited to have the final touches added to her hair and gown. The window was opened to acclimate her to the cold she was going to be in very soon, and the fire behind her did very little to offer warmth. Laien shivered, and she wasn't so sure it was from the cold this time. She had began to grow nervous.

This wasn't how Laien imagined her wedding day. She had always dreamed of being married on one of the balconies overlooking the Water Gardens, the bright Dornish sun warming her skin as she vowed her life away, not in the bitter, sunless, snowy Northlands. She hadn't thought to bring the gown she was to be married in, the same gown as her mother, and her mother before her, but Sansa had gotten to work a few days prior, sewing her fingers bloody to make her a dress in time.

Laien stared into the looking glass with a frown.

It was a beautiful dress, Laien thought as she admired Sansa's needlework. It was a cream-colored white that flowed to the floor in an almost wave, with small, pearl colored buttons to hold it together in the back. The sleeves were long and draped down almost as long as the dress itself. Sansa, for good measure, had added a light colored fur shawl for Laien to wear across her shoulders, knowing the chill of Winterfell still lingered, even as the winter thawed.

Laien's thick ebony hair had been left mostly down, the hair that fell around her face was pinned back in a braid at the crown of her head. She supposed it was because her hair offered a little more warmth.

"It's almost time, my lady," one of the Winterfell handmaidens gently reminded her. "Do you wish for anything?"

Laien shook her head. "Nothing else," she smiled, truly thankful for the woman's assistance. "Thank you."

The older woman bowed. "A pleasure, my lady."

Sansa stepped forward from the corner of the room, her blue eyes shining with something Laien couldn't place. "You look like something from a storybook, Laien."

Laien gave her a tight lipped smile. "All thanks to you, of course."

"Your brother is waiting outside these doors," Sansa said quietly. "He will escort you to the Godswood and give you to Jon. The ceremony is a simple one. Your brother has practiced his lines with Sam, so he knows what to say. The only words you must speak are 'I take this man'. Jon will guide you through the rest."

Laien closed her eyes, the feeling of dread coursed through her like a river. "Alright."

Sansa reach her hand out and grabbed Laien's own. "From tonight until your last night you will be my sister."

Laien's eyes watered, but she blinked them back and thanked Sansa with a smile.



Jon stood by Sam silently in front of the heart tree, his hands clutched behind his back.

"Are you nervous?" Sam asked him quietly. "You haven't really talked with her much, have you?"

Jon glanced at Sam through the corner of his eye. "I haven't, and no, I'm not nervous."

"D'you think she's nervous?"

Jon closed his eyes and sighed, resisting the urge to order Sam into silence. "It's likely."

"Do-"

Sam was cut off by Sansa's arrival at the Godswood, a small smile on her face as she took her place beside Jon, her hands folded delicately in front of her, a cloak bearing his sigil draped over her arms. Sansa nodded her head at the path clear of trees at the couple walking toward them arm in arm.

The Dornish man had his free hand over his sister's and was leaning to whisper into her ear. The woman on his arm looked radiant. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, and for the first time he got a good look at her in the light of the lanterns that lit their path. Her large brown eyes were staring up at him, but she didn't share Sansa's smile.

Jon thought she looked like she would rather be facing the Night King herself.

Sam stepped forward a bit when the siblings stopped in front of them.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" He said, just as they'd rehearsed.

The man bowed his head slightly. "Laien, of the House Qorgyle, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Jon pushed back any thoughts of walking away from what was before him, not for him, but for the sake of the people of Winterfell. He swallowed thickly. "Me, Jon of the Houses Stark and Targaryen, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, the White Wolf, Defender of the Wall. I claim her. Who gives her?"

"Me, Lhars of House Qorgyle, her brother." Lhars turned to Laien and raised his hand to her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Princess Laien, will you take this man?"

Laien turned her head slightly to look at Jon, brown eyes meeting brown, and said the words Sansa provided. "I take this man."

Jon let out a breath and it steamed before him. He stepped forward and held out his hands, palm up. Laien moved from her brother's embrace and toward Jon to rest her hands on his.

Jon looked into her eyes and gave her a small nod before he bowed before the heart tree. Laien knelt beside him and closed her eyes, but Jon knew Laien didn't know the prayers to his Gods so he kept his prayers short. He then rose from the ground helped her from the snow, watching as she shivered. Jon reach for the cloak that Sansa held and draped it over Laien's shoulders. It was the end of the marriage ceremony.

"It is done," Jon heard Sansa whisper from beside him. "Come, we have no feast in your honor, but the cooks have made a special meal for the two of you."