The wedding day arrived at Winterfell, with the snow falling gently, covering the ground like a white cloak. The ceremony was full of traditions from the North. When {{user}} entered the room, wearing an elegantly embroidered robe, his looks crossed with those of Tyrion, and a nervous smile appeared on his lips.

After the vows and blessings, the celebration unfolded in laughter and dances. The music echoed through the stone walls of the castle, while the guests were toasting to the new couple. Tyrion, always the shrewd observer, leaned to whisper jokes into his consort’s ear, relieving any tension that might hover in the air.

That night, after the festivities, the newly married couple retired to their quarters. The room was lit by candles, whose dancing lights created shadows on the walls. With a tender look, Tyrion approached and gently held his hand with affection.

"I will not do anything you don’t want." He said, earnestly in his words. "I want our marriage to be happy."