Convincing Edmure to marry Roslin Frey had been easier than both Jon and the Blackfish had anticipated. The new lord of Riverrun was more than happy to have the tedious task of wife-hunting taken out of his hands, it also helped that the girl was considered one of the more comely girls in the Riverlands. She was soft-spoken, sweet, without the weasel-like features that many Freys shared.
It was almost surprising how easily the Blackfish was able to talk his nephew to go through with the marriage. It was almost as if his father's passing had awoken something in Edmure. A newfound sense of responsibility as Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Riverlands.
Ser Stevron was extremely relieved to hear that Edmure had accepted the betrothal. His father's message in response to Stevron's had been critical and abusive, stating his disbelief in his heir's ability to negotiate with House Tully. Now the knight was more than happy to tell his father that he had brokered a marriage between his sister and the new Lord Paramount of Riverrun. A position that Walder Frey had craved for one of his kin for a very long time.
Lady Roslin had arrived in Riverrun within a few days of Edmure agreeing to the marriage, escorted by a number of her sisters and guards. Their marriage was held the next day in the sept at Riverrun, where Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully had been wed more than 20 years ago.
It was a beautiful ceremony. Stevron had given his sister away before joining the rest of his family who had come for the wedding. Many of the lords of the Riverlands had been present for the wedding as well, leaving the war in the Westerlands to their northern allies.
Everyone was dressed in their finery, especially the soon-to-be bride and groom. Edmure wore a red and blue striped tunic with a silver trout over shining silver mail. He wore a ceremonial cloak of House Tully on his shoulders. His hair and beard had been brushed and trimmed for the wedding. He looked like a true lord of Riverrun and held himself like one.
The bride was equally as beautiful. Wearing a beautiful white dress that showed off her petite size, her hair had also been done up in an elegant braid with white flowers mixed in. A maiden cloak bearing the sigil of House Frey hung from her shoulders. There had been no time to make a traditional wedding dress that had many layers and a long train, but neither the bride nor the groom seemed to care. The simplicity of the dress made the girl even more beautiful to most present.
Jon himself was dressed modestly compared to the lords and ladies present for the wedding. Garbed in a simple grey doublet, a running direwolf had been picked out in white thread on his right breast courtesy of one of the Frey girls who had accompanied Roslin Frey to Riverrun. In fact, the direwolf looked eerily similar to the white wolf that now sat at Jon's feet, his pelt freshly brushed till it looked like fresh snow.
The wedding vows had been simple but touching. Both Edmure and Roslin had spent a lot of time the day before the wedding trying to get to know each other more. If they were to be married, they both agreed that they didn't want to marry a total stranger. Edmure had been on his best behavior. No drinking or flirting, he had been the perfect nobleman to his new wife, much to the approval of his bannermen and uncle.
Jon, even though he was not a follower of the faith of the Seven, could appreciate the wedding. It was, at its core, a promise between the couple to be honorable, faithful, and loving to one another.
Per custom, Edmure had cloaked Roslin in his cloak, promising to protect her and care for her, making the promise to both Roslin and Ser Stevron, who acted as leader of House Frey in his father's absence. It was then that the Septon blessed the union in the light of the Seven.
After the ceremony, a grand feast was held in the great hall, where Edmure and Roslin sat in the center of the high table. On Edmure's right sat Ser Brynden, who was speaking quietly to Lord Mallister and Lord Blackwood. Next to Roslin sat her brother Stevron, who entertained the new couple with a story that kept them breaking out in laughter. Around the hall, the war was briefly forgotten about as everyone participated in the merrymaking. Dancing, drinking, and eating happened in abundance. The singers and musicians kept the music at full volume, switching occasionally from jaunty tunes to slower, more lovely ballads.
Every once in a while, a noble or knight would approach the high table and present the new couple with a wedding gift. Ser Brynden had given his nephew a sword fashioned by the smiths of Qohor, who are considered some of the best smiths in the known world. In addition to the sword, he had given a thin-bladed dagger of the same quality to his new niece in Roslin. Jonos Bracken had given the new Lord and Lady of Riverrun a fine pair of stallions. Tytos Blackwood had presented the couple with a weirwood longbow. Patrek and Jason Mallister promised that a new sailboat was currently being built in Seaguard. It was a small, lighter ship perfect for pleasure sailing on the rivers around Riverrun. It had been christened Roslin, after the new Lady of Riverrun.
Now it was Jon's turn to present a wedding present to Edmure and Roslin. Both from himself and House Stark. As Jon walked up to the table, Edmure turned to him, grinning brightly. He broke away from his conversation with Stevron.
"Jon," he said happily.
Jon bowed formally in front of the table. "My lord, my lady. Although I do not share the name, I wish to give a present to you on this amazing day, both from myself and from House Stark."
Roslin smiled happily. "Surely his grace will make you a Stark when he returns from the Reach."
Jon's smile eased a little. "I can only continue to pray for my brother's safe return. His good health is all the reward I need for serving him," he responded politely. He pulled the gift from behind his back, placing it gently on the table. "This is an ironwood shield, crafted by the finest shield makers in the North; House Forrester of Ironwrath. Ironwood is the strongest wood in all of Westeros. It will never break or shatter, not even if struck by the Mountain himself. It'll be as if you have a stone wall on your arm during battle." Jon promised.
Jon had sought out the lord of Ironwrath, Lord Gregor Forrester, before the man had set off with Lord Roland Hawker for the Westerlands. The man had been more than kind enough to give Jon one of the finest shields he had so that Jon could present it to Edmure. Jon had the shield painted with the banner of House Tully, the only exception being the bridge of the Crossing added just under the trout. A little reminder to show where Edmure's wife hailed from.
Edmure stood and fitted the shield on his left arm, moving it around. He smiled. "It's a magnificent shield." He praised. "Though I expect nothing less from my nephew's lands."
Jon bowed. "I have no doubt that my brother will present a much better gift upon his return, but I hope this will suffice for the moment," he said humbly.
Edmure waved aside the apology. "It's a fine gift, my friend. I am sure my new lady wife is happy that I am so well protected on the battlefield."
Jon smiled and bowed once again before returning to his seat, the other members of the battle guard patting him on the back for his gift and the way he handled himself, acting in his brother's place.
After more gifts were presented and food was eaten, Patrek Mallister stood up, rather shakily on account of how much ale and wine he had consumed. He raised his chalice to his old friend.
"To the bride and groom! Every sword needs a sheath!" He cried, happily declaring the time-honored tradition of the bedding ceremony
The crowd cheered as both Edmure and Roslin grew red with embarrassment. The couple was rushed by the crowd as the bedding ceremony started. Roslin was dragged away by the men while Edmure was equally pulled away by the women. Jon stayed where he was, watching the event with amusement. It was times like these where the Bastard of Winterfell wasn't so sad that he wasn't a noble. He avoided embarrassing traditions like the bedding ceremony.
The other members of the battle guard had joined in on the ceremony, leaving Jon alone at the table. But his loneliness didn't last long.
Ser Brynden grunted as he took a seat next to Jon. "Not one of the worst feasts I've been to," he said, sounding more like he was talking to himself rather than Jon. "That honor belongs to my brother's wedding to Minisa Whent. I was happy for Hoster, Minisa was a pretty girl from a good family, but I was less pleased with the constant line of women he kept lining up for me to meet."
Jon smiled slightly. "I think that's one of the bright spots of my life. I will never have to deal with being set up with a total stranger."
Ser Brynden chuckled. "Aye, there's that." He agreed. "You did a good thing, giving that shield to Edmure, offering it as a gift from House Stark and yourself."
Jon shook his head. "I would give more thanks to Lord Forrester. He was generous enough to give me the shield to gift to Lord Edmure," he said. "But your gift was quite amazing. A sword from Qohor must be expensive."
Brynden smiled slightly. "Not as good as valyrian steel," he said, glancing down at Jon's sword. He laughed when he saw Jon's face. "I noticed it during the Battle of Oxcross. Don't forget, I fought the entirety of Robert's Rebellion and the Greyjoy Rebellion with Ned Stark. I know valyrian steel when I see it. Now the question remains: where did you get it?"
Jon grimaced. "I got it from a man when I was at the Wall. He was an older man who didn't want the sword to fall into the wrong hands. I guess he gave it to me because Lord Stark's my father."
Ser Brynden frowned. "A random man gave it to you?"
"The maester." Jon specified, a little reluctant to give up the fact. "The maester at Castle Black gave it to me."
"Aemon Targaryen gave you the sword?" Ser Brynden asked curiously.
Jon frowned. "How'd you know the maester was a Targaryen?"
The Blackfish made a vague gesture with his hand. "Robert wanted all Targaryens dead at the end of his rebellion. I remember Jon Arryn mentioning that Aemon was a maester at the Wall and was untouchable," he responded. "I didn't know the man had a valyrian steel sword."
Jon nodded. "Neither did I."
"Did he ever tell you how he got it?" Ser Brynden asked.
Jon hesitated for a moment before answering. "My friend Sam is very interested in history. He believes that this is Dark Sister."
Ser Brynden's usually serious face broke for just a second as he looked shocked for the first time since Jon had met him. He looked down again at the sword, noting the steel crossguard and pommel.
"How'd he come to that conclusion?" He asked.
Jon shrugged. "The last person to wield the sword was Bloodraven, who disappeared north of the Wall at the end of his life. Sam assumed that he left the sword with Maester Aemon," he said. "I had the hilt and pommel changed to make it less recognizable."
Ser Brynden nodded, overcoming his shock. "Probably for the best," he grunted. "I wonder if he gave you the sword to make up for his family's crimes against yours."
"It makes sense, but I'm not a full Stark." Jon pointed out. "But that's as good a guess as Sam and I could come up with."
The Blackfish shook his head. "The son of Randyll bloody Tarly being a bookish boy who'd rather read than fight is still a puzzling thought," he said. "Where'd he bugger off to?"
"Sam went to study at the Citadel," Jon said. "I've never seen him more alive than when he had all night to himself in the library at Winterfell," Jon said with a laugh.
The Blackfish chuckled as well, then the smile began to fade from his face. "I didn't want to tell you this, but I overheard a couple of the younger northerners talking about Robb. If he were to die in the Reach. They said they wouldn't mind having you take up the crown."
Jon nearly choked on his ale. He looked in alarm at the Tully knight. "Me?" He asked. "I'm a bastard. The crown goes to Bran, that's the law."
Ser Brynden nodded. "You're correct, and I'm not forcing you to take the crown. I wish, just as you do, that Robb recovers and makes his way back north. But I couldn't help but think about it. You're not a power-hungry man. You're honorable, responsible, good with a sword. You're not afraid to fight on the front lines, just like your brother." He said. "I'm not saying you have to be king, but we both know Bran wouldn't be able to lead the army, even if he had the use of his legs. You'd have to lead in his absence, as his representative so to speak."
Jon frowned. "As his representative." He agreed. "But I would never wear the crown. That goes from Robb to Bran. I do not want it."
Ser Brynden raised an eyebrow, surprised with how vehemently Jon was protesting. He raised a hand to calm the young man. "I understand, lad. No one is forcing you to do so. But realize that more and more people might begin to look to you for leadership. You might be the closest thing to Robb that we have left. You do know him better than most. You'd know how he would act, what he might say."
"But I'm not the strategist Robb is." Jon countered.
The Blackfish nodded. "True. Robb has a special talent for strategy that is truly marvelous to watch. But you are better with a sword I'd wager. Lucas told me how you fought at the Golden Tooth." He added. "But just keep that in mind. With Robb's life up in the air, others will begin to look to you for guidance. If you truly do not want the crown, and I believe you when you say you don't, then I'd advise you to be careful with how you proceed from here. Like it or not, there's a power-opening that needs to be filled until Robb's fate is determined, and it will only grow larger the longer we are without the king. I will do my best to keep it contained, but be careful, lest you get sucked in accidentally."
Jon nodded. "Thank you, Ser Brynden. I will keep your words in mind."
The Blackfish grunted as he stood up. "We're in troubled times, Jon Snow. Men will be tested and tempted like never before. Make sure to keep your feet. Life has a fine way of fucking you over."
And with that, the Blackfish left. Leaving Jon alone to ponder his words.