Game of Thrones:Dawn of Ice and Fire.

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Chapter Twelve: Vows Beneath the Heart Tree

The crypts of Winterfell were cold and silent, the air thick with the scent of ancient stone and memories long buried. Flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across the faces of the stone statues that guarded the graves of House Stark's ancestors.

Ned Stark stood with his brother Benjen before one particular tomb, their breath misting in the frigid air. The statue of Lyanna Stark rested atop her final resting place, her face carved with a serene expression that spoke nothing of the tragedy that had claimed her life.

Ned's heart ached as he looked at her likeness. The pain never truly faded—losing Lyanna, Brandon, and their father all in such a short span. The weight of grief had become part of him, woven into his very being.

But today was not a day for sorrow.

He turned to Benjen, whose expression was solemn but thoughtful. Benjen was dressed in dark wool and furs, a stark contrast to the warmth and joy awaiting them above in the wedding preparations.

"I know you wanted to take the black," Ned said quietly. "To join the Night's Watch."

Benjen's lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing.

"I couldn't let you go," Ned admitted. "You're the last sibling I have left. While the Night's Watch is a noble calling, I need you here, Benjen. The North needs you."

Benjen's gaze softened. "It's alright, Ned. Truly. Dacey is a good woman. Strong, fierce—she'll make me a better man."

Ned smiled faintly. "She will."

Benjen hesitated, then added, "But I didn't stay just for you, Ned."

Ned's brow furrowed. "Then why?"

Benjen's eyes flicked to Lyanna's stone face before meeting Ned's gaze. "Jon."

The name hung between them, heavy with unspoken truths.

Benjen's voice was steady but laced with meaning. "He reminds me of Lyanna. That same stubborn fire, that fierce heart." He paused. "I'll make sure he grows up a proper Stark."

Ned's throat tightened. He wanted to deny what Benjen was implying, but the words wouldn't come.

Benjen knew.

How much he knew, Ned wasn't certain, but the implication was clear. His brother had seen through the lie that Jon was Ned's bastard and recognized the truth that Ned had sworn to carry to his grave.

Ned simply nodded, his voice thick. "Thank you."

Benjen clapped a hand on Ned's shoulder, his grin returning. "Come on, brother. I've got a wedding to get through."

Ned laughed softly. "Let's not keep Dacey waiting."

The heart tree stood tall and majestic, its red leaves rustling gently in the breeze. The entire godswood had been prepared for the wedding, torches flickering in the fading light of dusk. The assembled guests stood in respectful silence, their breath misting in the cool air.

Dacey Mormont stood proudly before the heart tree, her dark hair braided intricately, a fierce gleam in her eyes. She was a true daughter of Bear Island, strong and commanding, yet there was a softness to her gaze as she looked at Benjen.

Benjen stood beside her, his expression both solemn and joyful.

Ned watched from his place beside the heart tree, pride swelling in his chest. The words were spoken, the vows exchanged, and the ceremony concluded with Benjen and Dacey joining hands beneath the ancient branches of the heart tree.

The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices echoing through the godswood.

Ned felt a rare sense of peace settle over him. This was a good match, one born of strength and respect. Benjen had found a wife who would stand beside him through the trials of life, and Winterfell would be stronger for it.

The wedding feast stretched late into the night. The Great Hall was filled with laughter, music, and the clatter of mugs and platters. Roaring fires blazed in the hearths, casting warmth and light across the stone walls.

Benjen and Dacey sat at the high table, surrounded by family and friends. Ned watched them with a smile, raising his cup in silent toast to his brother's happiness.

Jon sat beside Robb, his eyes wide with wonder at the festivities. The boy was quieter than most children his age, but there was a spark in him that reminded Ned so much of Lyanna.

As the night wore on, Ned's gaze drifted back to Benjen. His brother caught his eye and raised his cup, a grin spreading across his face.

Ned nodded, a silent understanding passing between them.

Tonight was a night of joy, but the world was ever-changing, and shadows lingered on the horizon.

Still, for this moment, beneath the watchful eyes of the old gods, there was peace.