Sansa had sewn her wedding dress herself.
Eddmina had offered to make her a maiden's cloak, but Harrion had refused to marry in the sept or follow any of the traditions of the Seven, and so a cloak was not needed. Her own had been taken back from Highgarden to Winterfell as an heirloom, ready to pass onto her sisters, or any daughters that Robb may have, but Eddmina remembered the details of it so that recreating would have been easy enough. She had wanted the job, wanting something to do for her last few days of bed rest, but it was not to be. Instead she settled for helping Sansa with the embroidery details of the sleeves, helping her sew the weaving vines of red weirwood leaves, and the grey direwolves howling at the silver suns. The rest of the dress was plain white, save the collar and the hems, which Sansa had decorated with red thread that shone when the light caught and complimented her hair perfectly.
"A loan, for today only," Eddmina told her as she wrapped her own Stark locket around her sister's neck the minute she'd finished styling her hair up into a simple braided bun.
She'd taken the necklace off so quickly she didn't give herself chance to think about it. If she did, she would never let it go, but it had been her last gift from both parents, and Sansa deserved a piece of their father on her wedding day. Eddmina was certain that even if her condition didn't make her emotions haywire, she would have wept anyway at letting it go, even if it was just a borrow. She barely heard Sansa's whispered thanks in awe, and she had to look away when her sister's dainty fingers stroked over the pendant lovingly.
It was an evening wedding, and the sun had already begun to set when Robb escorted Sansa into the godswood. It was his duty to, and Eddmina didn't envy him, because the sight sickened her with grief that it was him and not their father. She'd spent the entire morning throwing up, and was surprised she didn't have to bolt and find a shrub the minute reality set in and she realised her sister really was getting married. If not for Willas stood at her side she was unsure if she'd have coped, but his presence was her anchor, and she forced herself to manage.
Despite it all, Eddmina couldn't help but think of the beauty. The godswood looked beautiful in twilight, and it had been decorated with candles along the dirt path to mark the way of the aisle, as well as shimmering lanterns being hung from the other nearby trees. It was only family too, and a few notable bannermen, unlike her own wedding where hundreds had poured into the Highgarden sept to watch her become a Tyrell. Her wedding had been a spectacle, while Sansa's felt close, intimate, and almost redeemed it for what it was; two nervous young people swearing vows to each other purely for alliance. The Greatjon had offered to do the ceremony, mostly to prove his continuing loyalty to Robb, and so he was waiting at the foot of the tree with Harrion, who to his credit had shaved and combed his hair, and in black leathers and a black fur cloak, looked rather handsome. It didn't hide his worried look, or how his hand shook when he took Sansa's and brought her under the tree.
Northern weddings that followed the old ways were much quicker than sept weddings, which was a good thing considering how Eddmina was sure her mother would surely break down if it was any longer. Lady Stark had been serious at the Tyrell-Stark wedding too, but this time she looked positively grief-stricken, and though she hid it well it was a different matter when Harrion took Sansa's hand and the pair of them knelt by the tree to pray. Sansa hadn't hesitated, in fact she had almost smiled, as did Harrion, but Eddmina heard her mother let out a sharp breath that sounded like she was concealing heartbreak. While she so desperately hid her pain, it was obvious the Tyrell's were morbidly curious with the whole thing, almost enjoying seeing the different culture despite the situation, as Garlan kept glancing to his brother as if to check he was also watching as intently too. Jeyne, however, didn't seem to share their interest, because when things differed from the ways of the Seven, she looked at Robb as if expecting him to correct it.
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Only A Northern Song ~ Game of Thrones / Willas Tyrell ~
Fanfiction"I cannot sing for you. You want me to sing you the songs of the south, where the pretty ladies fall in love with the brave knights and all is well with the world. I don't know those songs. I only know Northern songs, about winter and wolves, and yo...
