Some Game of Thrones fans will never finish wondering if Jon Snow will be brought back from the dead. Or perhaps he really did take his last gasp of air -- stabbed by his sworn brothers in the courtyard of Castle Black.
Either way, his 'true love', Ygritte, is even less likely to make a comeback. So that means the wedding fans were cheated of -- the Jon Snow/Ygritte nuptials -- will never happen. Not ever.
As a long-time admirer of George R.R. Martin, I wonder how the great man would have written their wedding. Would they have had a romantic evening or been slaughtered in a repeat of the 'Red Wedding'? So, with apologies to the great GRRM, here is my fanfic tribute to arguably every GoT fan's favourite love birds.
The wedding of Jon Snow and Ygritte
Thick and tart. Jon Snow knew the taste of air before a battle and, tonight, the winter air had all the makings of a blood bath. He was surrounded by pageantry, warriors tall and proud in polished armour and stiffened tunics. A gallery of ladies swathed to their teats in garish finery, eager for a show.
Sam shook Jon from his glum daze. "Jon? Did you remember?"
"I did." Jon patted his hip. "It's right here."
Sam felt the hilt of Jon's sword beneath his tunic. "Not your sword, you bloody fool, the ring!"
"The ring!" gasped Jon. He looked at the gathered crowd of guests. "There's more bad blood out there than I care to think."
"Keep calm," said Sam as Ygritte appeared at the back of the hall with her court. "Even bad blood likes a good party."
As Ygritte made her way down the aisle toward Jon, armour clanked as esteemed knights jostled for a closer view. The wedding felt like a betrayal, but Jon was determined to marry the woman he loved. Jon's vows to the Night's Watch were not as strong as his duty to avenge the massacre of his family.
"Do you, Ygritte, take Jon Snow...?"
"I, Ygritte, take Jon Snow..."
Moments later, Jon had exchanged his old vows for new. He kissed Ygritte, hugged Sam, and shared a roar of approval of his wife with the guests.
Yet only a pitiful number of friends had gathered to cheer the newlywed couple. All but a handful of the Night's Watch abandoned Jon after he accepted Stannis' offer to join forces. And many Free Folk were still angry with Ygritte for forgiving the man who betrayed them.
Jon kissed his wife and laced his fingers through her hair. A train of guests snaked to the head table, bearing gifts for the newlyweds; jewellery, gems, leatherwear, ceremonial weapons, ornate flasks and spiritual trinkets.
It was deep into the night and deep into the ale when an exotic woman with amber skin reached the front of the gift line. In her hands, an oblong orb of dull lustre, the size of a man's head.
"My lady," she said, "please accept this humble offering from my family."
"Your family?" said Ygritte. "Please forgive me, your face and dress are not familiar to me."
"Mine is a distant family," she purred. "Beyond your walls. Beyond your lands. Beyond the ice."
Jon glanced at the doors of the hall. Where were the guards?
Ygritte absorbed the tension unfazed. "As intrigued as I am by your homeland, I'm more so by this gift you bear."
The visitor set it gently before Ygritte. "It is a treasure unique to my home."
A light chuckle rose from the crowd.
"A dragon's egg."
"I'm sorry," interrupted Jon. "What did you say your name was?"
The woman slowly pointed her finger behind them to a trail of smoke, rising from the fire. A massive glistening form uncoiled from the shadows of the ceiling beams high above the hall. Silence fell. A studded tail longer than the dining tables drifted from the dark into the light of the hall.
"A dragon? What have you done?" hissed Ygritte.
THWACK! Sam's sword took off the stranger's head and left it wobbling on the table next to the egg. "She was a witch. I hate witches."
"TO ARMS!" bellowed Jon.
The room erupted into chaos. The sound of freshly drawn steel rang out, tables crashed, nobles shrieked. The dragon wailed and smashed through the beams as it sprang to the floor, crushing a knight fumbling for his sword.
The wave of fire left a smouldering mass of melted dead and dying, smeared down the centre aisle. Jon spun on Ygritte. "Get out of here!"
The dragon spat a ball of flame that charred dozens of people, burying the exit in broken, burning debris and bodies. The room was thick with burning hair and flesh and the stone floor was slick with blood. The dragon's tail sent screeching soldiers tumbling through the air smashing into walls and tables.
Before the dragon could draw another fiery breath, Jon roared and hacked off two of its toes. The beast shrieked and whipped around on Jon, but an arrow from Ygritte found its mark at the base of its neck. The dragon foamed with rage as dark blood splashed across the floor and walls.
"NO!" demanded Ygritte.
Jon turned to see Ygritte poised over the dragon egg with a battle axe. Her dress was splattered with blood and matted with ash and sweat. The great dragon recoiled to its full height, sword quills sprang erect down its neck and back. Its eyes smouldered yellow and crimson.
Groups of huddled survivors whimpered in corners, small fires crackled.
"Take your egg, and go!" shouted Ygritte.
The dragon lumbered slowly through the carnage, its head swaying back and forth and its eyes locked on Ygritte before it took the egg in its massive jaws. In a wash of air, it swooped up through the beams and crashed out through the roof.
Ygritte and Sam scrambled to Jon's side, lying flat on the floor. Ygritte took his head in her lap as he regained consciousness. "It's okay," she said.
Jon smiled wearily and looked at Sam.
"I'll admit it," Sam said. "You were right to keep your sword close by."
Jon smiled at Sam and then looked lovingly at his wife.
"So, what other gifts did we get?" said Jon.