I was dressed in a dusty rose doublet and a deep red velvet cloak adorned with golden emblems of a lion and a stag. It occurred to me that I was paying too much attention to the lion and neglecting the stag and those who served it. Yet, under the circumstances — given that all of the Stormlands still supported Stannis Baratheon — it was difficult to act otherwise. Still, I had some thoughts about his daughter, a girl named Shireen.
At the very end, when I had finished preparing to depart, they placed a light golden crown upon my head.
In truth, the amount of gold I had seen on myself of late was beginning to trouble me. Too much yellow — too much vanity. If I survive, I shall not dress so brightly.
Accompanied by my entourage, I left the castle. They helped me mount a white like milk horse named Snow. How glad I was that I had had the chance to become acquainted with horses earlier!
Surrounded on all sides by guards, we moved towards the bride in a great procession. Jaime led both the procession and the guards. He did so very naturally.
A light sea breeze played gently through the treetops. The clear ringing of bells carried through the air. Banners and coats of arms fluttered merrily from windows and doorways of many houses. To my surprise, some of the townsfolk waved cheerfully and warmly, even smiling. It seemed that the people had not yet wholly embraced the notion of Joffrey as the ultimate scoundrel.
Our procession met the bride's cortege. Margaery looked like a fairy-tale princess in cream silks and Myrish lace, her skirt trimmed with roses shaped from tiny pearls.
She wore a cloak bearing her family's coat of arms — not that of the Baratheons, as she might have done as Renly's widow. In that, she made clear that despite her past marriage, she remained untouched.
I remembered Tyrion wondering at a wedding feast, "Is she truly a virgin?" He had added that it would make no difference to Joffrey, who would hardly be able to tell the difference.
But it matters to me — I shall notice. Good, if that turns out to be the case.
Margaery was accompanied by an entourage no less grand than mine: her grandmother, her father, her brother Garlan and his wife, her other brother Loras, the Knight of Flowers, Ser Villan Withers, the commander of her personal guard, several beautiful and charming ladies-in-waiting of various ages, and many other knights and ladies in jewelled finery that sparkled beneath the sun. Several musicians followed behind, playing bright, lively tunes.
We were wed in the Great Sept of Baelor — the grand cathedral of the Seven, raised in King's Landing some hundred and fifty years ago. It was a majestic edifice of marble, soaring high into the sky with seven slender towers.
The ceremony itself took place in the main hall, beneath a vast dome of gold, glass, and crystal. It was conducted by the High Septon. The man had no name — it is taken from him when he ascends to that position. From that moment on, he is the High Septon, the head of the Faith of the Seven.
The ceremony was long and very solemn. The Great Sept was filled to capacity; many had come eager to witness the royal wedding.
Margaery and I stood before the Septon upon a raised platform, our hands joined. The Septon invoked the gods, beseeching their blessing upon our union. Then we spoke our vows — to cherish and to love one another.
A choir sang a wedding hymn. Then the Septon turned to the gathered crowd, asking whether any among them held reason to oppose the marriage.
Margaery's eyes, deep and beautiful, never left mine. I could not shake the sense that she was constantly weighing what this marriage would bring her.
I squeezed her hand gently and smiled in reassurance.
If all goes well, all will be well. And then came the moment to change her cloak.
Lord Mace stepped forward and carefully removed his daughter's maiden cloak, which bore the sigil of golden roses upon a field of green. 'Growing Strong' — a fine motto, though not a martial one.
Prince Tommen handed me the cloak Cersei had given me that morning. I winked at my brother, who was frowning far too gravely. Tommen blinked at me in confusion, then stepped back into the crowd.
I wrapped the girl in red and gold and fastened the clasp at her throat. My fingers brushed lightly against her skin.
It was a blessing that I knew the canon well — and Joffrey's memories served me besides; it seems he learned all this.
"With this kiss, I swear to love you forever."
"With this kiss, I swear to love you forever," Margaery echoed.
Our lips met. A spark ran through me like a jolt of lightning. Her lips were soft as silk and carried a faint scent of cinnamon. She closed her eyes, and when the kiss ended and she opened them again, they shone like stars.
The High Septon, his magnificent tiara scattering a thousand rays of light, proclaimed that from this day forth we were one flesh, one heart, one soul.
Then we were led in solemn procession out into the street, and further still, into the city.
Ser Loras and Ser Meryn went before us, both clad in white, scale-like armour. Just behind them, Prince Tommen scattered rose petals from a small basket.
Margaery and I followed; then came Cersei and Lord Tyrell, Tywin and Olenna, Garlan and his wife, Tyrion and Sansa, and the rest — a long, glittering train of nobles and courtiers.
We stepped onto a broad marble platform. A wide stone stairway descended to the square below, where a crowd of thousands had gathered, held back by the Gold Cloaks.
When they saw us, the people cheered. I doubted they were cheering for me — more likely for Margaery — yet I raised my right hand, smiled, and pretended all was well.
Here, at this place, all the noble and wealthy lords and knights came forth to offer their congratulations. Each spoke some courteous phrase before passing on.
Cersei looked strange and distant. Her gaze lingered on me with concern, and on Margaery with a displeasure poorly concealed beneath a smile. Surely the Queen was already wondering what had so changed me — and how much of that change owed itself to Margaery.
Tyrion and Sansa approached next. The girl looked pale and exhausted whith a hunted look in her eyes, while my uncle shifted restlessly from foot to foot—it seemed that all he dreamed about was getting out of there as quickly as possible and relieving himself.