I feel wonderful because I see the love light in your eyes.
The weather the day before had been heartening, a warm breeze flowing over the island. Today, however, was not the same. Whatever warmth had snuck into the atmosphere yesterday and had melted the most fragile ice had departed quickly, and everything had refrozen, hard and smooth and icy. It was not snowing, which was a blessing, but some places along the path from the heart tree to Summerfell were precarious and slippery.
The area surrounding the heart tree, however, was pristine and peaceful, a perfect place for the wedding. Had Arthur not wanted to honor his faith by having a separate ceremony in the church, he would have favored this spot, even if it had not been the choice of the Starks. The snow was not newly fallen, but not trampled so much that it had become mud and slush. It stayed white, and ice encapsulated the leaves and twigs of the surrounding trees so that when the light of the sun streamed down into the clearing, it glinted off the trees as if they were made of crystal. Peace reigned in that place. Peace, purity and a sense of God, some spirit greater than them that was not the island, and none of this was disturbed by the people that gathered to watch the wedding. Arthur could keep no list in his head of who was in attendance and who was not; his mind was far too distracted by other thoughts at the moment. But he knew with a surety that they were all friends, all good-hearted people and their presence only added to the warmth within that place, completely unrelated to the weather.
Though Lyanna had always known this day would come she had never imagined it would be a day chosen of her own volition. Ever one to flout the Stark creeds of honor and virtue, the she-wolf could hardly comprehend how she'd come to stand before the judgmental red eyes of the heart tree with every intention of doing her duty as lady wife. Every passing moon had brought her closer to the one who now stood beside her, to the pale blue gown she wore beneath the direwolf cloak Sansa had made for Susan's wedding to her son - a peculiarly beautiful heirloom passing to the generation above rather than below - and to her brother Ned whom she would never have seen again were it not for this island. Yet as she stood there waiting to listen to the words that would bind her to Arthur, Lyanna held no wish to undo what was done.
The clasp at her throat felt cooler than the winter air inhaled and exhaled as cloudy breaths of smoke while all stood to hear Ned Stark's poignant blessings of loyalty and protection, balance and duty. They were the words of a wedding in the North of Westeros but universal in scope, ending with a bow to the all-seeing eyes of the heart tree when their marriage was deemed good and true. Next her son, Jon Snow, stepped forward to remove the cloak of the Starks from her shoulders, and Lyanna did little more than beam and warmly bow in acknowledgment of the blood and love between them. Of the ties that would continue to bind her mind and her heart to her house while her body resided in another. In silence Lyanna stood with only her given name and bared shoulders, though she did not stand there long. Arthur was there in a moment, wrapping the heavy, deep green cloak that Sansa had decorated with white horses around her shoulders, a symbol of his love and protection that would strengthen and warm her now and for however long God chose to grant them life in each other's arms. This was Lyanna's ceremony, for her family, just as the service the night before in the small church had been for Arthur and his God, but he could not help but feel as he fastened the clasp at Lyanna's neck that this was right, that their union was true and strong. He felt as much a part of the Starks, a part of this island family as he felt Lyanna was a part of his. A fond smile pulled over his lips, his gaze locked wholly on Lyanna as Arthur rested his hands on her shoulders, drawing her closer to seal the ceremony with a kiss, warm and loving and chaste.
There was applause and cheers, though those might have been inspired by a desire to move from the cold of the outdoors to the relative warmth of Summerfell, but there were certainly warm sentiments present as well. The walk back to the house of the Starks was quick but careful, the icy conditions requiring a bit more care than jovial hearts would normally spare. All made it back to the house in one piece, however, and soon the drink was flowing, the lips were moving with talk and smiles, and bodies and hearts were warmed by good company and cheer.
[Timed to much earlier in the day. The ceremony took place at 11 AM, so the reception should drag through the afternoon. Tag at will. There will be no top-level comments to organize. We like it raucous in Summerfell. ST and LT welcome through the weekend.]
The area surrounding the heart tree, however, was pristine and peaceful, a perfect place for the wedding. Had Arthur not wanted to honor his faith by having a separate ceremony in the church, he would have favored this spot, even if it had not been the choice of the Starks. The snow was not newly fallen, but not trampled so much that it had become mud and slush. It stayed white, and ice encapsulated the leaves and twigs of the surrounding trees so that when the light of the sun streamed down into the clearing, it glinted off the trees as if they were made of crystal. Peace reigned in that place. Peace, purity and a sense of God, some spirit greater than them that was not the island, and none of this was disturbed by the people that gathered to watch the wedding. Arthur could keep no list in his head of who was in attendance and who was not; his mind was far too distracted by other thoughts at the moment. But he knew with a surety that they were all friends, all good-hearted people and their presence only added to the warmth within that place, completely unrelated to the weather.
Though Lyanna had always known this day would come she had never imagined it would be a day chosen of her own volition. Ever one to flout the Stark creeds of honor and virtue, the she-wolf could hardly comprehend how she'd come to stand before the judgmental red eyes of the heart tree with every intention of doing her duty as lady wife. Every passing moon had brought her closer to the one who now stood beside her, to the pale blue gown she wore beneath the direwolf cloak Sansa had made for Susan's wedding to her son - a peculiarly beautiful heirloom passing to the generation above rather than below - and to her brother Ned whom she would never have seen again were it not for this island. Yet as she stood there waiting to listen to the words that would bind her to Arthur, Lyanna held no wish to undo what was done.
The clasp at her throat felt cooler than the winter air inhaled and exhaled as cloudy breaths of smoke while all stood to hear Ned Stark's poignant blessings of loyalty and protection, balance and duty. They were the words of a wedding in the North of Westeros but universal in scope, ending with a bow to the all-seeing eyes of the heart tree when their marriage was deemed good and true. Next her son, Jon Snow, stepped forward to remove the cloak of the Starks from her shoulders, and Lyanna did little more than beam and warmly bow in acknowledgment of the blood and love between them. Of the ties that would continue to bind her mind and her heart to her house while her body resided in another. In silence Lyanna stood with only her given name and bared shoulders, though she did not stand there long. Arthur was there in a moment, wrapping the heavy, deep green cloak that Sansa had decorated with white horses around her shoulders, a symbol of his love and protection that would strengthen and warm her now and for however long God chose to grant them life in each other's arms. This was Lyanna's ceremony, for her family, just as the service the night before in the small church had been for Arthur and his God, but he could not help but feel as he fastened the clasp at Lyanna's neck that this was right, that their union was true and strong. He felt as much a part of the Starks, a part of this island family as he felt Lyanna was a part of his. A fond smile pulled over his lips, his gaze locked wholly on Lyanna as Arthur rested his hands on her shoulders, drawing her closer to seal the ceremony with a kiss, warm and loving and chaste.
There was applause and cheers, though those might have been inspired by a desire to move from the cold of the outdoors to the relative warmth of Summerfell, but there were certainly warm sentiments present as well. The walk back to the house of the Starks was quick but careful, the icy conditions requiring a bit more care than jovial hearts would normally spare. All made it back to the house in one piece, however, and soon the drink was flowing, the lips were moving with talk and smiles, and bodies and hearts were warmed by good company and cheer.
[Timed to much earlier in the day. The ceremony took place at 11 AM, so the reception should drag through the afternoon. Tag at will. There will be no top-level comments to organize. We like it raucous in Summerfell. ST and LT welcome through the weekend.]