Dragonlord Chapter 156: The wedding P1

Harry watched one of the newly built airships, the Northern Winter, settle on the landing platform built near the courtyard of Winterfell. It was thanks to the current matron of Sea Dragon’s Academy of Magic and his former Valkyrie that the Company of the Rose could be speedily brought to Westerosi shores. He waved at Kyla as she came to the side and signalled her to bring the sellswords to the castle.

“Sellswords.” Eddard muttered with distaste as he stood beside Harry, watching the Company of the Rose disembark from the airship.

“It was this or we getting involved in the Westerlands.” Harry pointed out.

“There was the option of not getting involved at all. As a matter of fact, I’m tempted to do away with this farce.” Eddard said with a frown.

“Well, that’d put grandfather and uncle Edmure in an awkward position. It’d also leave Ser Brynden’s campaign in the Westerlands in a precarious position. The Lannisters and Florents might get the chance to overwhelm the combined forces of House Tully and House Lefford.”  Harry cautioned his father about the consequences of pulling support at this point.

“I don’t know why you’d involve yourself in such conflicts, Harrion. I thought we declared the North’s independence not to involve ourselves in southern affairs?” Eddard said gruffly.

“It’s in the North’s interest to see the Riverlands have secure borders. Also, Ser Brynden is family. The last thing I want is to see my mother grieve her uncle after a disastrous invasion of the Westerlands.” Harry pointed out.

Eddard merely grunted and fell silent afterwards.

Though his father no longer voiced his opposition to the presence of sellswords, the King in the North was clear in his disinterest in the whole matter. So, Harry took care not to bring the sellswords or the matter of war in the Westerlands within the earshot of his father. Instead, he made sure only the matters relating to his wedding were at the forefront in their brief stay at Moat Cailin.

Some of the guests for the wedding had yet to arrive. It was for them he was delaying their departure to Dorne. On the way, the Nimbus could land the Company of the Rose in the Westerlands to support Ser Brynden’s campaign.

Only once his family was suitably busy with the wedding planning did he arrange a meeting with the two captains of the sellsword company.   

Sitting before him were the two captains of the Company of the Rose. Captain Travis Storm looked half a giant with long brown hair reaching beyond his shoulders. The man had a short beard and black eyes, with a scar running down the right side of his face. The other was Captain Marsh Tait, a younger man with short black hair and light blue eyes.  

Other than the two Captains, there was Asher Forrester in the room with them.

“I know I sought your services with little time for you to prepare. But the need was sudden and most unexpected.” Harry said, sipping a watered-down wine while his servants poured the fine Northern wine to the two sellsword captains.

“We don’t mind. Lord Asher has connections in the right places to vouch for him. We couldn’t ignore their requests.” Captain Travis said, after taking a long sip from his wine cup. “Besides, the men were thrilled when we announced we’ll be transported to Westeros aboard the famed airships.”

Harry smiled and nodded at Asher Forrester for a job well done.

The second son of Lord Gregor Forrester was Harry’s man in Essos. When a situation developed at Ironrath that left Asher with no option but to go into exile, Harry had the man stationed in Braavos overseeing some of his trade in the city. In time, Asher became the man who kept track of most shipments between the North and Braavos. This helped Asher Forrester develop some valuable contacts in the city amongst the wealthy and powerful.

But that was not the only job Harry left with Asher. He had Asher and the Manderlys reach out to some of the best sellsword companies and their financial links across the continent. He did that in the interest of using the sellswords in case the war in the south reached too close to the North.

“We had to say no to our Pentoshi contract. So, I hope our payment will be substantial as promised.” Captain Marsh said.

“You’ll have the promised gold and more if your men are as effective as promised.” Harry promised. “But keep in mind, though you fight in the Westerlands under the Tully banner, your contract is with House Stark.”

“That is promising. It looks like we have more fights to look forward to in the future.” Said Captain Travis with a knowing grin.

Harry grinned as the two men before him understood some of his intentions. He raised his wine cup.

“To future battles.”

“To future battles.” they chorused.

When the time finally came for them to depart, the Nimbus was filled with the soldiers and the wedding guests. The expansion charms in the ship facilitated the transportation of six thousand strong troops of the Company of the Rose, along with wedding guests.

It took them two days to cover the distance and arrive at Castamare, where Ser Brynden’s host was camping. Along the way, the Nimbus picked up Jon from Lordsport.

Now, the men of the Company of the Rose marched out of the Nimbus with their weapons and supplies provided by Harry. He also supplied some two hundred steeds from the Rills to the sellswords. Lord Ryswell was also happy as he paid upfront in gold and put an order of another three hundred steeds for Avalon’s use.

“I don’t think father is happy with Ser Brynden.” Robb commented, watching their father having a long conversation with the Blackfish.

“That’ll be the least of Ser Brynden’s worries.” Harry commented, pointing at an irate-looking Catelyn Stark observing her uncle from a safe distance.

“To tell you the truth, I also defer on getting involved in this conflict. We have had reports of wildlings moving in greater numbers towards the Wall. That should be our primary concern, not southern conflicts.” said Robb.

“We cannot leave our southern flank unattended when we face the threat from beyond the Wall.” Harry said.

“We’re not facing the threat from beyond the Wall.” Robb pointed out.

“Aren’t we?” Harry asked amusedly.

“Are we?” Robb asked uncertainly. “The wildlings march on the Wall
”

“I don’t consider the wildlings a threat. A bunch of barbarians wielding bronze and stone weapons are frankly not a threat.”

“They’ve caused problems for us in the past.” Robb said with a frown, unhappy that his brother was dismissing the threat of wildlings callously.

“Yes, they have, but those were the times when the Watch was weak and the Gift was left bare. That is no longer the case, brother. The Wall has sufficient forces to repel any wildling attacks.” Harry said confidently.

“I hope so.” Robb said with a sigh.

“Just wait till my wedding, brother. You’ll see.” Harry said, confident in the preparations he had already made to secure the Wall.

*****

The sun burned low over the lemon groves, its final light casting long golden fingers across the pools of the Water Gardens. For three days, the private retreat of Dorne’s ruling princes was transformed into a place of revelry and union, where banners of the direwolf and the sun-and-spear waved side by side.

The Water Gardens would host the first of the wedding festivities—three days of games, song, and feasting before the ceremony itself. Arianne insisted that the bards come from across Dorne. She wanted the best minstrels in Dorne with honeyed tongues, drummers with thunder in their hands, and a choir from Vaith to sing the songs of the Seven, even if Dorne bowed first to Rhoynar gods and desert winds.

Appearances of faith have to be maintained, says her father.

Arianne didn’t oppose that as she knew certain religious ceremonies had to be observed. After all, she was the princess of Dorne.

Besides, the choir was arranged by Tyene. Her cousin could be trusted to keep the ceremonies and the involvement of the Faith to a bare minimum. Any religious zealots would be kept at an arm’s length. After all, she was to marry a Stark whose bloodline stretched to the Age of Heroes. She knew the Starks worshipped the Old Gods of the First Men and therefore might be less inclined to follow the customs of the Seven.

“Even Catelyn Stark was wedded following the customs of the First Men. I worry the Starks might find some offence in our customs.” Arianne fretted, occasionally looking to the sky from the balcony to spot Harrion’s airship.

“You know Harrion doesn’t care. He said so when we asked.” Nymeria said calmly.

“I’m not worried about him. His family and the lords of the North might.” Arianne fussed needlessly.

“If they did, King Eddard would’ve asked for the ceremony to be conducted in Winterfell. Yet, they didn’t.” Nymeria rubbed her shoulder soothingly. “Trust me, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Arianne suddenly noted a distant dot in the sky, which grew larger as moments passed by. Her eyes widened as the gleaming surface of her betrothed’s flagship started to become visible.

“Look! They’ve arrived!” Arianne said excitedly.

The arrival of their Northern guests in the Nimbus attracted the eyes of their other guests. It was not every day they got to see the famed airships of the North sailing effortlessly through the heavens. The Starks and their fellow Northerners were welcomed into the Water Gardens, and without delay, the Rhyonish customs of the marriage ceremony unfolded. Old crones who worshipped the Mother Rhoyne said their prayers. The water from the Rhoyne preserved for the ceremony was poured onto the feet of Harrion and herself.

“May the mother of all waters take heart and bless this union.” the Rhoynar priestesses sang.

There were more prayers held, followed by the customary dipping of her hair in olive oil and the finest kohl in all of Dorne was used to line her eyes. Red ochre was applied to her lips, and more of the black kohl was used to draw small dots over her eyebrows.

Similarly, all other Rhyonish customs were observed in the Water Gardens, as it was customary to seek the blessings of Mother Rhoyne before the marriage to the heir to the Sunspear’s throne. The Water Gardens hosted a night of celebration with a welcoming feast when the night fell. The next morning, they travelled to Sunspear to continue with the rest of the ceremony.

The first day in Sunspear dawned with soft harp music drifting through the breeze and the scent of lavender thick in the air.

Harrion Stark stood beneath a carved stone pavilion dressed in gold-trimmed black fur, a wolf's head brooch clasping his cloak painted with his sigil. At his side stood his brothers Jon and Robb, both wearing a simple blue tunic. Arya was nowhere to be seen—likely roaming the gardens with Bran to explore every nook and cranny of the castle. Sansa and his mother stood side by side, dressed in matching blue and red dresses and a blinding smile lighting their faces. Rickon was standing by his mother’s side, hugging her skirts. His father, the King in the North, stood beside his mother with the crown shining on his head.

Arianne Martell emerged like the sunrise itself, escorted by her father, Prince Doran Martell. Draped in silk dyed the colour of gold with occasional black in her dress. The princess of Dorne walked across the tiled path, anklets chiming with every step. Her hair had been woven with red gemstones and gold pendents, and her veil of golden lace fluttered like a flame in the breeze.

They took their vows not in the sept, but in the presence of a septon. A weirwood sapling was brought from the North for the Old Gods to witness and bless the union. The septon blessed their union with sweet-scented oils. A wise woman from the Greenblood whispered words of the Rhoynar, pouring river water into their joined hands. Lastly, an old Godsgroove priest from Avalon brought a bowl carved from weirwood and filled it with earth from Winterfell’s godswood, which they sprinkled around the pavilion to honour the old gods.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love
" Arianne and Harry chorused together.

"
 and take you for my lord and husband."  

"
and take you for my lady and wife."

“In the eyes of the Seven, you are one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” the septon declared as he tied their hands together with a silk cloth painted with the seven-pointed star.

When they kissed, a chorus of Dornish pipes played a lively tune. Guests cheered and threw petals into the air, and the cheers echoed across the domes and tiled towers of Sunspear.  

That night, a feast like no other took place within the walls of Sunspear. Roasted boar seasoned with fiery dragon peppers sat beside platters of lemon cakes, Dornish snake stew, and great wheels of white Northern cheese. Iced wine and ale were served in abundance for the guests. Spiced wine flowed freely, as did laughter and highly embellished stories of valour and battles. Prince Doran, seated with Queen Catelyn and King Eddard, raised a toast so artful and gracious that even Lord Greatjon Umber stopped his boisterous laughter to listen.

“My lords and ladies,” Doran said, his voice calm and resonant across the hall, “tonight we gather not only in celebration, but in unity. Dorne has long stood proud, fierce in its independence and strength. But tonight, we join our blood with that of the North—a land of old blood and honour, of wolves and winter.”

He turned to his daughter, radiant in her deep gold and black wedding gown, seated beside her new husband.

“Arianne,” he said gently, “you are the blood of Nymeria and Mors, the flame of House Martell. You have ever been willful, passionate, and bold—traits worthy of a Princess of Dorne. Tonight, you become not just a wife, but a bridge between two great houses.”

Then, Doran turned to his goodson.

“Harrion Stark—you have won victories and accomplished much with sword and magic unseen in this continent for thousands of years, but this union may prove your greatest triumph yet. You have gained not just a bride today, but a family, and in Dorne, family is everything.”

He lifted his cup higher so that the whole hall could see.

“To my daughter Arianne and her husband—may their union be strong as the Martell spear, and enduring as the Stark honour. Let the sun and wolf meet and never part.”

The hall erupted in cheers as goblets were raised across the hall. Doran sat slowly, a small, satisfied smile gracing his lips as he watched his daughter take her husband’s hand beneath the blazing Dornish sun.

Arianne smiled at her father and then gazed lovingly into her husband’s stormy grey eyes. In those eyes, she could see the joy her husband was feeling. Though true, their marriage was arranged for political purposes, that was not the sole factor. She found her husband very attractive, and she loved his boldness as well as his resourcefulness. She didn’t know what her husband saw in her, but he definitely had his eyes on her body like a hungry wolf.

“You look enthralling, wife. I’m afraid I might be tempted to steal you away from this hall to our bed.” Harrion whispered against her ear, which brought goosebumps.

“You’ll have to fight the temptation, husband. The feast is yet to finish, and I suspect many gifts have to be presented to the two of us.” Arianne whispered back with a tinkling laughter.

“Hmm. That’s a shame.” Harrion whispered, his eyes darting to her cleavage, which was on full display.

“But fear not, my wolf.” Arianne purred with a sultry look, leaning forward a little, which did interesting things to her sizeable bust. “You can have me in bed till dawn.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise, Arianne.” Harrion grinned as he pulled back, his eyes drinking in the sight of his beautiful wife.

They faced the hall and smiled at the guests from the high table as the next course of the feast arrived.