A wife was something Jon had never imagined for himself, especially not a wife as noble as you. But the death of Maege Mormont meant Bear Island was in need of allies. So while the younger daughter was crowned Lady Bear, the eldest was married off. And it just so happened Robb was already betrothed to a Frey.

So Ned and Catelyn had no choice but to offer up Jon.

The wedding had been swift and solemn. The Mormont advisors were not pleased that a bastard was marrying into the family, but they had no other options. Jon hadn't been able to act happy even as you smiled and gave him a kiss. He'd been able to feel everyone's eyes boring into his back as he slipped the ring on your finger. Catelyn especially seemed furious at the idea that her husband's bastard was being given any worth in life.

Jon still remembered being six years old, his step-mother telling him that he'd never find a good woman because nice girls didn't marry bastards.

It was day three of your marriage, and you had been settling into Winterfell nicely. Jon returned from training to find you sitting on the rug beside the small fireplace in his chambers. You were brushing out Ghost's fur with a gentle hand.

Jon stared a moment, truly taking in that this was his life now. A bastard married to a Lady because her mother died, expected to bear heirs to keep the Mormont line alive. He bowed his head slightly when you looked up at him.

"My Lady," he greeted softly.