A Feast for Dragons

“Soon.”
    “We thank you for the sun that warms us,”
chanted the queen. “
We
thank you for the stars that
watch over us in the black of night. We thank you for our hearths and for our
torches that keep the savage dark at bay. We thank you for our bright spirits,
the fires in our loins and in our hearts.”
    And Melisandre said, “Let them come forth, who would be
joined.” The flames cast her shadow on the Wall behind her, and her ruby
gleamed against the paleness of her throat.
    Jon turned to Alys Karstark. “My lady. Are you ready?”
    “Yes. Oh, yes.”
    “You’re not scared?”
    The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his
little sister that it almost broke his heart. “Let him be scared of me.” The
snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of
lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there,
giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes
sparkled.
    “Winter’s lady.” Jon squeezed her hand.
    The Magnar of Thenn stood waiting by the fire, clad as if
for battle, in fur and leather and bronze scales, a bronze sword at his hip.
His receding hair made him look older than his years, but as he turned to watch
his bride approach, Jon could see the boy in him. His eyes were big as walnuts,
though whether it was the fire, the priestess, or the woman that had put the
fear in him Jon could not say.
Alys was more right than she knew
.
    “Who brings this woman to be wed?” asked Melisandre.
    “I do,” said Jon. “Now comes Alys of House Karstark, a woman
grown and flowered, of noble blood and birth.” He gave her hand one last
squeeze and stepped back to join the others.
    “Who comes forth to claim this woman?” asked Melisandre.
    “Me.” Sigorn slapped his chest. “Magnar of Thenn.”
    “Sigorn,” asked Melisandre, “will you share your fire with
Alys, and warm her when the night is dark and full of terrors?”
    “I swear me.” The Magnar’s promise was a white cloud in the
air. Snow dappled his shoulders. His ears were red. “By the red god’s flames, I
warm her all her days.”
    “Alys, do you swear to share your fire with Sigorn, and warm
him when the night is dark and full of terrors?”
    “Till his blood is boiling.” Her maiden’s cloak was the
black wool of the Night’s Watch. The Karstark sunburst sewn on its back was
made of the same white fur that lined it.
    Melisandre’s eyes shone as bright as the ruby at her throat.
“Then come to me and be as one.” As she beckoned, a wall of flames roared
upward, licking at the snowflakes with hot orange tongues. Alys Karstark took
her Magnar by the hand.
    Side by side they leapt the ditch.
    “Two went into the flames.” A gust of wind lifted the red
woman’s scarlet skirts till she pressed them down again. “One emerges.” Her
coppery hair danced about her head. “What fire joins, none may put asunder.”
    “What fire joins, none may put asunder,”
came the echo, from queen’s men and Thenns and even a few of the black
brothers.
    Except for kings and uncles
, thought Jon
Snow.
    Cregan Karstark had turned up a day behind his niece. With
him came four mounted men-at-arms, a huntsman, and a pack of dogs, sniffing
after Lady Alys as if she were a deer. Jon Snow met them on the kingsroad half
a league south of Mole’s Town, before they could turn up at Castle Black, claim
guest right, or call for parley. One of Karstark’s men had loosed a crossbow
quarrel at Ty and died for it. That left four, and Cregan himself.
    Fortunately they had a dozen ice cells.
Room for all
.
    Like so much else, heraldry ended at the Wall. The Thenns had
no family arms as was customary amongst the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, so
Jon told the stewards to improvise. He thought they had done well. The bride’s
cloak Sigorn fastened about Lady Alys’s shoulders showed a bronze disk on a
field of white wool, surrounded by flames made with wisps of crimson silk. The
echo of the Karstark sunburst was there for those who cared to look, but
differenced to make the arms appropriate for House Thenn.
    The Magnar all but ripped the maiden’s cloak from Alys’s
shoulders, but when he fastened her bride’s cloak about her he was almost
tender. As he leaned down to kiss her cheek, their breath mingled. The flames
roared once again. The queen’s men began to sing a song of praise. “Is it
done?” Jon heard Satin whisper.
    “Done and done,” muttered