Saturday, November 25, 2017
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Monday, August 28, 2017
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Collateral Damage Chapter 3
Rotation Day 2
Jon got a text at 5 AM from Dr. Martell asking him to meet him at his office at the University of Westeros Medical School. Anything was better than going to the Alzheimer’s wing alone.
“Jon, you have worked life and death situations in the ER. I know you can do this.” Sansa encouraged as she packed their lunches during breakfast. “And you have leftover pizza for lunch! I promise to be home early and we can cook a good meal tonight. Veal chops and a healthy spinach salad?”
“Give me a kiss that I can hang onto all day.” Jon said pulling her to him before he left. He held on to her so tight, like she could challenge this reality. Their kiss was long and deep, cherishing every second their lips prayed each other’s name into breath and desire. Desire that would have to wait.
Jon arrived at Dr. Martell’s office and was surprised to see him already deep in charts and data.
“Good that you decided to join me, Dr. Stark.”
“It’s an honor, Dr. Martell.”
“Don’t worry about honor right now. It’s hard work. In the mornings, we will work on creating a genetic profile or series of genetic profiles beyond the PSEN 1 and PSEN 2 markers. Essentially, I would like to parse out the Familial Early Onset APP marker from this early onset of unknown origin. I would like to find out if there is even a genetic marker. Of the total Alzheimer's population only 5% is Early Onset. But, 5% is significant. We could make a discovery of some importance, you realize.”
“Yes, Dr. Martell, I do. I’m not afraid of hard work. When I return to Winterfell, it will be all hard work.”
“You come from a most distinguished family, young man. That is why I choose you, not just for this rotation, but to work with me on this study. Now, in the afternoons, we will be working to develop a protocol to ameliorate, if possible, some slight portion of the confusion and agitation of Sundowning.”
“I understand sir.”
“You have only had one day on the wing. I doubt that you do from more than a clinical perspective. Any decrease in Sundowning behaviors is just as much for the families as the patients. Not only is it disconcerting for family members, many of whom visit daily after work, but it deprives our residents of positive interactions. Imagine, coming to visit your family member after a long day at work and they are caught in the Sundowning effect. They are in such full on perseveration over some minor detail from the past that they cannot focus on their visitors. Then at bedtime, they become agitated or depressed and unable to sleep without medication, because they don’t remember the visit. It is a vicious spiral. Anger, guilt, depression. I could go on and on.”
“So what do you want me to do?” asked Jon.
“Observe, interact, make notes. Make environmental changes, change the lighting. Keep it daytime bright, that is my first thought. And talk. Talk and relate to our residents. Look for triggers and changes. Do what ever it takes. Every day from 2 to 6 PM. Then go home and clear your head and your heart.”
At lunch, Jon reheated last night’s pizza. Sansa had left a ziplock filled with fruit and a napkin with a pink lipstick kiss on it in a separate snack size ziplock. When he opened it to press his lips to hers, he caught her lemongrass, mandarin and sandalwood essential oils mix that she smoothed on every night after her shower. He was the luckiest man alive and he knew it. He put the special ziplock in his pocket for the long afternoon. He was going to need it.
Jon arrived at the Alzheimer's wing and stood in front of the keypad to the locked unit. It was like going through a magic portal to another world. He keyed in the magic numbers and the latch on the other side clicked. He took a deep breath and stepped through the Tardis door.
He headed straight to the nurse’s station to speak with Ms. Tyrell.
“You came back, Dr. Stark. I had faith in you. Not everybody is ready for all this. Sensory overload. Mental health overload.”
“How did you know?”
“That’s how I felt too. Only difference is I went through this with my Grandmother. We kept her at home as long as we could. I can still see my father changing her diapers. Huge tears rolling down his cheeks. All the while, she kept hitting him and yelling rape.”
“I’m sorry. This is all so new to me. It’s all been textbooks and lectures before now. I’m so thankful that my family is healthy.”
“It's ok. Grandmother Olenna is the reason I’m here. There are no heroes. Just people doing what they know they have to do. Please call me Marg. We try to avoid titles here. Just more confusion. You’ll see.”
“I thought about that. Yesterday, I just introduced myself as Jon. But, I was overdressed. I thought maybe khakis and a polo would work better. It didn't penetrate at the time. Then this morning, I realized you were wearing a pretty flowered dress instead of scrubs.”
“Yes, I want my people to feel comfortable. I’m just a friend dropping over for a visit to see how they are doing. A pretty girl in a pretty dress can get her way. Especially with the men, but that’s another story for another time. I have to continue my med rounds. Thanks for coming back, Jon. I’m here if you need me.”
Jon changed his clothes and walked into the large day room as lemonade was being served. Residents were sitting at round tables, some chatting at each other in non sequiturs and some chatting to the air.
“Bartender….” called a well groomed white haired man. Jon made a mental note to learn the names of all 20 residents immediately, if not sooner.
“Yes sir.”
“Lannister’s the name. Mayor of Lannisport, to you. Enough of this sweet shit. Get me a drink. Let my wife drink her lemonade, I need a scotch neat.”
“I do my best, Mr. Lannister.”
“And bartender, don’t let my wife catch you. She doesn’t want the children to inherit any of my bad habits. She doesn’t indulge.”
Jon walked quickly out the door and when in search of Marg. How did they deal with inappropriate and impossible requests? He was already fucking up.
“Marg, Mr. Lannister asked for a scotch. What am I supposed to do? He called me, bartender. What will happen if I tell him we don’t have any?”
“That’s your basic introduction to Mr. Lannister. He calls all the men bartender around this time in the afternoon. Oh, I don’t mean to laugh. We mix up some Diet Coke, a dash of bitters, and tamari sauce. Don’t forget he wants it neat! You’ll find the ingredients in the staff fridge. And be quick about it or he’ll be yelling for the bartender.”
“Thanks so much.” he said running off to attempt to create this concoction. He still had to pass it off to Mr. Lannister.
“Mr. Lannister, here is your drink. Sorry for the delay.” Jon handed it to the old man with a shaking hand hoping it would mollify him.
Mr. Lannister swirled the drink around and then took a sip. “You pour a fine drink, young man. I shall keep my eye out for you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Jon took that as his dismissal. He turned quickly and walked away. He had not seen Mrs. Gary in the day room. He hoped that she wasn’t sitting in her room waiting for her husband and baby. But, he had to go find out. He walked slowly down the hall to her room. With each step, he was seized with the idea of turning around and getting Mr. Lannister another drink. That would be easier.
Mrs. Gary’s door was slightly ajar. He knocked anyway. Light was streaming in from her window and she was sitting in the rocking chair again. She made eye contact with him immediately and smiled.
“Mrs. Gary, may I come in?”
“Of course. Tell me, has the crib arrived?
“Why no ma’am, it hasn’t. You selected such a special crib that it is still on order. Perhaps, tomorrow.”
“Oh, I hope so. My husband will be arriving soon and where will we put the baby?”
Jon looked around for the ottoman to the rocking chair so he could continue their conversation face to face, rather than tower over her. His goal was to be reassuring not imposing. It was against the far wall. He pulled it over and positioned it in front of her and sat down.
“Not to worry.”
“You know, when we first brought him home from hospital, I had to empty out a drawer and line it with towels. Now that we’re going to be back in Westeros for a while, nothing but the best will do.”
“Have you been out of the country for a long time?”
“Just under 2 years. I insisted that our son be brought up near my family. So here we are. Rather, here I am waiting. So much bureaucracy and paperwork.”
“Everything will work out.”
“Yes, I have a good feeling.”
“I realize you’ve hardly had time to settle in, I was wondering if you have made any friends?”
“Just you, dear. And the landlord’s daughter. She’s been so sweet. Such a lovely young lady. Dropping in to see how I’m getting on with unpacking. Are you the landlord’s son?”
“No ma’am. Just the caretaker.”
“Well,you are doing a fine job helping me out. Can you tell me how I can get telephone service? I have one in the bedroom, but there is only static on the line. I want to call my father. He doesn’t know I’m back. I want to surprise him. Especially, with the baby.”
“I’ll check on it right away, Mrs. Gary.” Jon responded carefully. He wasn’t sure how much of the delusion he should feed into. She was happy and he was determined not to say or do anything that would alter that. He had to check with Marg.
“I have to finish my daily inspection, so I must go. I’ll be back in a bit and I hope to have an answer for you.”
Before he could get up, Mrs. Gary reached over and patted his knee. Her grey eyes met his and he could see the thin lines that were beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. He couldn’t tell if she was going to laugh or cry. She smiled.
“You just get going with your duties. I don’t want you to get into trouble for me. I’ll be right here. My husband will be arriving soon. And he’s bringing our son. Finally a family again. Thank you so much Jon.”
“I’ll be back, I promise.” he said and left the room pulling the door back into its original position.
Wow, that was intense. The conversation sounded so normal and casual. Except that it wasn’t.
He headed back down the hall to the day room, where he heard a commotion. It was Mr. Lannister. This time he was not alone. He had a visitor. Must be one of his children. The man was tall and blond and had similar features. They were having a strenuous conversation.
“Bartender, where did you disappear to? That was the best scotch, I’ve had all day. Bring me another and one for my brother.”
“Dad, I’m Jamie. Not Uncle Kevan.” said the man.
Jon didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to intrude on their conversation. Unfortunately, he would be documenting all of it in his clinical notes. He told himself to keep it in the professional folder on the doctor’s desktop he had created in his mind. He didn’t like to bring things home. Even though he could share anything with Sansa. He was teaching her how to set up her mental doctor’s desktop. She was better at compartmentalizing things than he was. He was fine on the spot and kept calm in the middle of any catastrophe. However, he was so self analyzing and critical of himself. Could he have done better?
“Bartender, our drinks.” Mr. Lannister was yelling now as his son tried in vain to get him to lower his voice.
“Father, please!”
“I’ll be right back with your drinks, gentlemen. Jon made a mental note to introduce himself to Mr. Lannister’s son. He didn’t want him to think that he was actually bringing him scotch. Well, he would realize it, when he returned with the concoction. He headed for the staff fridge and mixed up another drink. In the other glass he only poured Diet Coke.
“Here you are, Mr. Lannister.” He placed the Diet Coke in front of the son.
“I’m Jamie Lannister, much to my father’s objections.” said Jamie extending his hand to Jon.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m the new resident here on this wing.” he began and then corrected himself when Jamie gave him a quizzical look. “No, I mean….” Jon continued as he leaned in to shake hands and lowered his voice, “I’m Dr. Jon Stark. I’m finishing my residency working with Dr. Martell on his study.”
“I get it. You are just the kind of bartender we need at this establishment.” replied Jamie with an extra pump in his handshake. “Thank you for the scotch. My father is right. It's the best scotch I’ve had all day.”
“Fantastic. I’ll leave you men to your conversation.”
Jon went in search of Marg again. What was the answer to the telephone question? He could just picture Mrs. Gary trying to key in an old phone number. Of course, there would only be static. Or worse, the number was probably recycled to another landline and it would just ring and ring and ring. Nobody ever answered a landline anymore, if they still had one in their home. They didn’t even have one in their apartment. He knew that Uncle Eddard and Aunt Catelyn had actual phones at home when they were growing up. He and Robb had Bat phones in their rooms as kids. Wonder what ever happened to those prize possessions?
“You need to figure that one out for yourself, Doctor.” Marg laughed. “Besides you don’t have to give her an answer today.”
“I promised.”
“I don’t mean to sound harsh. She isn’t going to remember what she asked you today and she is going to ask you again tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. It's just the way Alzheimer's works. You’re going to have to make a paradigm shift. You have to get into their sideways world and make your responses accordingly.”
“Then, I can just tell her the truth about the telephone. It will take a few days to get any phone company to come fix a phone, ha!”
“You’ve got that right, just try getting new cable service….. maybe an appointment in 2 weeks.” laughed Marg.
Jon returned to Mrs. Gary just before he left for the evening. There was a tray of dinner, barely touched. She was watching some generic movie on TV.
“You came back to see me.”
“I promised I would.”
“So few people keep their promises. Even little ones.”
“I found out that the phone is going to take a few days to get fixed. Appointments and everything.”
“That’s ok. I’m not going anywhere. I’m waiting for the crib, Remember?”
Collateral Damage Chapter 2
Jon arrived home to a dark apartment. He was glad for the quiet. The day had been long and loud. He felt ashamed that his first thought was to take another shower. He had already changed out of his shirt, tie and trousers after his initial shower and a long run. Usually a good run would clear his head. But, nothing. He decided to take another shower. He needed a very hot shower and a long talk with Sansa.
When he got out of the shower 15 minutes later, after he had literally scrubbed himself raw, he smelled pizza. The lights in the rest of the apartment were on and he heard her in the kitchen. He needed conversation. He needed strength. He needed her. He needed pizza and a beer. When he got to the small kitchen, Sansa was standing there holding a cold beer out to him. She reached for him and his arms curved around her. He pressed his face into her hair, wishing she could read his thoughts. He finally took a deep breath, catching the lemon and rose water scent of her shampoo.
“I thought you’d need this.” she said into his wet hair.
“What the beer or the hug?”
“Both, of course.”
“Why are you always so right?”
“Just because I am. And I know you. It was the smell wasn’t it?”
“Yes, that and Dr. Martell arrived two and a half hours late and…..”
“Come on. Sit down. Eat. I picked up your favorite on my way home from study group.”
Sansa pulled Jon to their kitchen table and pushed a plate with a gigantic slice of pizza laying across it and a big paper towel over to him as he sat down defeated. She sat down next to him and looked directly at him.
“So tell me.” she demanded and bit the tip of the pizza off. “Always the tip first.”
“Get your own piece!”
“I will as soon as you talk to me, honestly.“
“Honestly? You know I can only admit this to you. I’m scared.”
“Scared of old people. What are you going to do when we’re old? Go running and screaming through the streets?”
“That’s not it. Of all of the diseases, conditions and injuries I’ve seen, this is the worst. It robs people of their lives.”
“Well, not exactly in a technical sense. Their quality of life is diminished considerably, to say the least.”
“I can’t look at it from an aloof medical, just solve the problem, textbook point of view.”
“Explain it then. I need to understand.”
“I don’t know. I just keep thinking about the things they told me. One lady kept asking for her car keys, another one told me that she had to finish checking her classes’ math papers. Then she kept trying to teach me the Pythagorean theorem when I convinced her that she was caught up. That lasted for about five minutes. Then she cycled back to her unfinished math papers. One elderly man kept reciting a list of building materials to build a bridge. The CNA on duty explained that he had been a civil engineer. Another man, kept trying to ask the ladies to come and take a nap with him.”
“That’s known as Sundowning, right? Where peoples’ confusion increases and delusions become more pronounced later in the afternoon. I have read about that behavior.”
“It’s just that it was more than confused behaviors or thoughts. These people really seem to believe these things at that point in time. It’s coming from so deep in the brain that it seems true to them.”
“If that ever happens to me, just shoot me.”
“No, Sansa, it's not even a joke. I don't know where to put it in my head. The worst was early this morning. I had to examine a new admission. This lady wasn’t that old. She was just 55 and had early onset Alzheimer’s. She had scars from what looked like a chemical fire. She was so happy. She told me that she was waiting for her husband. He was bringing their baby and they could finally be a family. All she was worried about was having room for a crib.”
“Reliving a happy moment in her past. Is that so terrible? You said she was happy.”
“Happy all day long, waiting for her husband and child. Mrs. Gary, the records showed no husband and no baby. All the records showed was that she was a foreign language translator who had worked and traveled in the Middle East, Essos, and then Bravos, where she started to act strangely at her job a couple of years ago. Her employers assumed she had brain trauma from what ever accident gave her the terrible burns. She even wore a Burka to cover them at times. She was nobody. She had nobody. So she was put in a mental institution until Dr. Martell found her a month ago and brought her here.”
“How did he find her?”
"Dr. Martell is researching early onset Alzheimer's and he has collected a data base of cases and suspected cases. He was examining potential candidates for his study. He determined that she didn’t have a traumatic brain injury and since she was Westerosi he would include her, to return her to Westeros and get her out of the mental institution.”
“That’s an amazing story. But how did he realize that she was actually Westerosi?”
“Even weirder. He said it was her eyes. Grey eyes.”
“True, it’s a very small percentage of people that have grey eyes. Doesn’t sound data driven to me.”
“He didn’t elaborate. Perhaps, he’s looking at a genetic sequence that displays similar to dominant/recessive eye colors. Although I don’t think that’s complex enough. I don’t know. All I know, is that she waited all day long for her husband and baby and I know they will never come. And she will be waiting again tomorrow.”
“Unless she has a different delusion that she perseverates on tomorrow. Honey, this is really upsetting you. Let’s just eat our pizza and snuggle on the couch and watch something mindlessly entertaining like South Park.”
Their conversation worried Sansa. She had never seen Jon so unnerved. He was always her rock. She was trying to meet his emotions with clean and clinical observations. But, he was right. It sounded sad, scary, and pathetic because there was no cure. No solution.
Jon fell asleep on the couch with his arms around her waist and head on her shoulder. She had an 8 AM class and he had to meet Dr. Martell at the Alzheimer's wing by 7:30 tomorrow morning. She hoped he would be there on time for Jon’s sake. Sansa tousled his hair to drag him off to bed. For propriety, they each had separate bedrooms, but they usually slept in his big comfy bed.
“Jon, let's go to bed,” Sansa whispered as she attempted to rouse him.
After a few seconds of rubbing his eyes, he yawned in reply and began to get up. He caught her hand and allowed Sansa to lead him into the bedroom. They crawled into bed together in their tee shirts and sweats.
“Spoon with me.” he pleaded pulling her close into him.
“Every night of my life, Jon. Every night.”Collateral Damage Chapter 1
Rotation Day 1
Jon had experienced many things during his 4 years of medical school and 2 year residency. He had been assailed by the most terrible sights and smells. But, there was one thing he could not stomach. The stench of adult diapers. This was his last rotation ever. He counted to 10, took a deep breath and keyed in the code on the locked ward. It hit him immediately, the smell of old people.
Jon stood in the hall and texted Dr. Martell to let him know that he had arrived. That bought him a few minutes before he would seek out the head nurse. He reminded himself that he had to have this experience to be a competent general practitioner. He wanted to open his own practice back home. Young doctors were not attracted to the North. In fact, the only hospital in the region was Winterfell Memorial Hospital, which had been started his grandfather Rickard Stark.
He came from a family of physicians, his 3 uncles and 2 of his cousins. Robb, who was in the Army Medical Corps and Sansa who had one more year of medical school. Even, his mother Lyanna had been destined to be a doctor. She had taken the year after medical school off to volunteer with Doctors Without Borders. That was where she met and married his father, Dr. Rhaegar Targaryen. He convinced her to stay in Iraq in 1985. There Jon was born in 1986. There both his parents had died during the Iran-Iraq War. Sadden Hussein has been on a rampage against his own people. He had blown up the field hospital where his parents worked.
Jon didn’t remember his parents. He was 6 months old at the time and in a childcare facility run by the British Embassy for the doctors and other civilians serving in Iraq. His Uncle Eddard and Aunt Catelyn had taken him in to live with their young son as a sibling and he had grown up at Winterfell with the rest of the Stark clan.
Dr. Martell, texted him back to say he was delayed by at least an hour and to begin rounds without him. Not what he wanted to do, but….. standing in the hall, was not such a good idea either, so he walked directly to the nurses station to introduce himself. At the circular station, sat two CNA’s charting and the head nurse, Ms. Tyrell.
“You must be Dr. Stark. I’m Marg Tyrell, head nurse. I dispense medication, monitor chronic conditions and see to smooth daily operations.”
“Yes, I’m Dr. Jon Stark. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Tyrell.”
“Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts. What time will Dr. Martell be arriving? He has a bad habit of dumping residents off in our cozy locked quarters and disappearing.”
“His text estimated an hour.”
“Yeah, uh huh. I won’t hold my breath. Anyway, you are here. We just received a new admission. A patient transfer from Bravvos. She needs a comprehensive examination and chart check. I’ll be checking her medication levels. This must be accomplished ASAP as she is quite disoriented from the move. She was very agitated when she arrived. We don’t have an hour. I’m not having her stroke out on my watch.”
“Then, let's get to work.”
“Follow me, please, Dr. Stark. Our new patient’s name is Mrs. Anna Gary. She is 55 years old and has been experiencing symptoms of early onset Alzheimer's for approximately 5 years. Her records are sketchy and read like a patchwork quilt.”
Jon followed Ms. Tyrell into a dim quiet room. Facing away from the door was a slight woman rocking back and forth in a wooden rocking chair. She was humming to herself and appeared to be holding something from her posture in the chair.
“I’ll review her records again, while you introduce yourself. Go ahead.”
Jon was grateful that she didn’t smell like old piss. And she was younger than expected. The woman had her eyes closed and her head was resting on the back of the chair. Jon noticed that she had dark brown hair with streaks of grey. He also noticed that she had burn scars on her arms, hands, neck and the left side of her forehead trailing down to her cheek. She seemed so content and calm, he felt terrible that he was intruding on her world. And what an intrusion. He took a deep breath and forged ahead.
“Excuse me. Excuse me, Mrs.Gary.” He stooped down in front of her in hopes of appearing less intimidating. “Mrs. Gary, I’m Jon. I’m here to help you settle in.”
She did not seem to hear him and kept rocking and humming. She held a stuffed animal furry dog in her lap. She did smile, ever so slightly as if enjoying a dream.
“Mrs. Gary? How are you feeling today?”
“Oh, quite fine. Today is the day my husband arrives and we can finally be a family.” she explained opening her grey eyes and looking straight at Jon. He blinked hard. Grey eyes.
“That's wonderful, Mrs. Gary.” replied Jon going along with her delusion.
“Oh, yes! And he will be bringing the baby with him. That’s what's taking so long. All the paperwork. I hope this apartment has enough space for the crib.” she continued looking around the room as if for the first time.
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
Thursday, June 29, 2017
Monday, June 19, 2017
Finally!
It's almost time." said Catelyn as she pulled the maiden cloak from the bag.
"I never thought I'd be playing this part. I still remember draping my cloak around your shoulders, Cat. Thinking of the responsibility of loving you and caring for you. Now, here I am draping a Stark cloak on my baby girl. I can't imagine willingly entrusting her to another. My beautiful girl. I still remember holding you for the first time."
"I'm not going anywhere. You are still my dad. I just need to find my own companion in life."
Catelyn took Ned's hand and kissed him on the cheek. He squeezed her hand. His eyes were deep grey and held back a stray tear. She turned back to Sansa to avoid her own tears.
"How do you think I feel? Sansa, you remember, I'm not old enough to be a grandmother."
"Mom, please! How can you even go there? This is a social experiment. I don't know how this is going to go. I'm just giving it my best shot. Who knows?"
"Ok focus." reminded Catelyn, "The maiden cloak, come on Ned, help me. Sansa don't move!"
"How can I move. I already have to stand straight to keep this crown on. Dad, don't let me trip."
"I'm always here to catch you. You look beautiful. Like a princess."
Catelyn took the white, silver and grey brocade cloak off the padded hanger. She looked at Ned and took a deep breath. They each took a side of the cloak and draped it over Sansa's shoulders. Ned took a deep breath too. He could see the tears beginning to well in Cat's eyes.
There was an annoying knock on the door. "We go live in 4 minutes.”
********************MEANWHILE*****************************
One of the staffers knocked on the door and Jon felt a jolt go straight through him.
"Mr. Targaryen, when you are ready. We are beginning to stage."
"See you in the Sept." Jon leaned over and kissed Aunt Dany. "I'll be the guy looking scared shitless."
"You'll be the most handsome man bun there. Ha... Didn't know, I knew that, did you!"
"Let's go my boy." Said Davos putting his hand on Jon's shoulder as they walked out of the door.
"Hey, what are we going to do with GoPro?"
"Keep it OFF and in my pocket. I'll slip it to Edd later."
"I still don't see Jorah."
They walked slowly down the paneled hallway hung with portraits of kings and queens from centuries past hoping not to see anyone. At least for a couple more minutes.
"Davos, I have to thank you."
"For what Jon?"
"For always being around for me. For taking me fishing and teaching me how to sail, when I was a kid. Including me with your boys. For stepping up. I hardly remember my father. But, I remember you always being around. You're here right now, where my father would be."
"It has been my pleasure. My boys, all off in the Navy. An email, here and there. But you, Jon. You always come to me as if I could solve your problems. Trust. You always looked to me with such trust in your eyes, I........."
They emerged from the hallway and the sight of decorated Sept stunned them both. There was a profusion of yellow roses on the altar and yellow candles glowing golden beneath the Father and Mother as well as in every candelabra throughout the main room. Around all of the grandeur, were videographers on portable scaffolds and others standing at strategic angles to capture the ceremony and the families and friends. Much to their mutual displeasure there was a figure with a mic, who looked like a comedian warming up a live TV audience before the main event.
"Who????" began Jon, before he realized the answer. "That's Tyrion Lannister!"
"You mean the historian?"
"Fuck, probably bragging about how his family rebuilt the Sept. It was his ancestor, Mad Queen Cersei that blew it up.”
“And it was one of your far flung ancestors that built it."
Just then the music swelled into something baroque but unidentifiable. Jon looked at Davos with a skeptical smile.
"Go ahead, I'm just behind you."
"Ladies and Gentleman, our groom, Jon Targaryen is entering the Sept.” announced Tyrion. “He is an investment banker with, of course, The Targaryen Bank of Westeros. He is the son of the late Rhaegar Targaryen of Dragonstone and the late Elia Martell of Dorne.
Something is Jon's brain switched to autopilot and he began to walk down the aisle into the main Sept, not looking right or left, but straight ahead at Tyrion. Through the music, he realized that he heard Jorah's voice. He was standing just behind the huge granite statue of The Father. And he was holding a garment bag. The music swelled again and Jon continued down the aisle, now focused on Jorah's face. He winked at Jon. Jon walked up the steps to the statue, half turned facing the audience and at the same time searching Jorah's face. Davos came up just behind Jon and turned to face forward trying to give Jorah a place to slide in behind him. They both hoped that the music would continue and Professor Lannister would not continue his color commentary introducing their pedigrees' as well.
Tyrion began again into the mic."We wish to thank the generosity of Daenerys Targaryen, CEO of The Targaryen Bank of Westeros for donating the services of the Orchestra of Westeros to all of our couples today.”
Jon whispered to Davos and Jorah. "This sounds like a commercial."
"No, it was something she wanted to do. The commercial is Tyrion Lannister himself. Still trying to suck up after all these years. I think he’s spent his whole life trying to apologize for his ancestors."
"So what about the cloak?"
"I had to pull some strings at the museum."
"The museum?"
"Yes, I realized there is an exhibit of ancient clothing that your Aunt had funded. It was a conservation, restoration and reproduction of clothing of the Targaryen Dynasty. So I borrowed a copy of Rhaella Targaryen’s wedding cloak for the ceremony."
Jon breathed a sign of relief. "So I won't have to marry Bat Girl."
"No you won't. But, I do have a plan for that cloak and some black lingerie after the reception. I believe I have a dragon to tame. I better go and escort your Aunt in before she begins breathing fire."
Jorah slid the heavily embroidered black and red cloak out of its bag and handed it carefully to Davos. Jorah stepped back behind the statue and disappeared back to Aunt Dany. Davos draped it over his arm then checked his breast pocket for the rings. He patted his pocket.
"What did I tell you." he whispered into Jon's ear. "Trust."
***************MEANWHILE**********************************************
"I can't believe we have to sit here and listen to Professor Impdick, tell us the whole history of Westeros." raged Arya to Robb.
"Yeah, what is he doing here? It's like a cross between a lecture and a circus. It must be part of the show. Look at all these camera people." whispered Robb. "Sansa is going to kill you."
"Hey, I didn't have anything to do with this part. I never even though about this commotion."
"Arya?" asked Rickon leaning over to her. "What's an impdick?"
"Rickon, shut up! Forget, I even said that." fumed Arya.
"I'll explain it later." whispered Bran, in hopes of shooshing Rickon's barrage of questions that were about to explode. They all fidgeted in their seats in the front of the Sept waiting for something to happen. Then Tyrion Lannister introduced the groom as he and a companion walked hesitantly up the long aisle.
“Ha! He's the guy carrying the tree!" laughed Robb.
"Targaryen, so that's why the gifts were so extravagant." concluded Arya. "At least he's hot."
"What's Mom going to say? A Targaryen in the family?"
"Hope he has a sword, and knows how to use it." joked Arya.
Jon watched as Aunt Dany emerged from the hallway on Jorah's arm and they took their seats at the front. The music softened into simple piano. Everyone in the Sept looked up. Jon looked up. It was time.
Standing at the very beginning of the long aisle was a robust man in a deep charcoal grey tuxedo. Standing next to him was the most radiant young woman Jon had ever seen. The girl from the balcony! Jon watched as a director held up her hand, signaling for them to wait. The director seemed to be counting down. As the first cello joined the piano and the melody heightened into a clean theme, she signaled for them to proceed. They began to walk toward him slowly, almost flowing with the music. Behind them, was another red haired woman, fixing and fussing over the long white maiden's cloak.
Sansa held tightly to her father's arm as the director motioned for them to wait. She could feel her mother behind her pulling at the maiden cloak. Gods, mom. Sometimes you worry about the craziest things. You should be sitting with Robb, Arya and the boys. Why is this camera person staring me down? Is he going to walk backwards all the way up the aisle? In fact, why are there so many cameras? I hope I’m smiling! The Sept looks outrageous. I know Mom had something to do with all these roses. I wonder if she got me a lemon cake too? She so fooled me....... she and Arya in yellow dresses. Wonder how she accomplished that? She is a force of nature. Do I know this song? I'm not sure. It's not Chasing Cars. Focus, focus. I think I can see him. If we could just move a few steps closer. Oh, no. Walk. Don't let the crown fall off, please no. Ok, Ok. Just walk. It's him. The guy from the balcony!
I bet she can't see me up here. What's she going to say, when she realizes I'm the guy from the balcony. Well, I'll have to buy her another hairbrush. That hair. I wonder if she would let me brush it? Direwolves equal Starks. I wasn’t even thinking. Good thing I put the cufflinks on. Her father is Lord Eddard Stark, MP. This could be messy. Targaryens and Starks have a weird history. Lannister better not point that out. I'll have to kick his ass as my first official act as a husband. Fuck. I wonder if she heard his intro? Probably not, she wasn't in the Sept then. Shit! They're getting closer. I can see the glint of the earrings Aunt Dany gave her. She's smiling. I can't see the key though because of her maiden cloak. She's glowing. And those blue eyes. Blue like the clearest sky. She's smiling and glowing. Thank the gods, Jorah found something a bit more suitable. I can't see her in that dragon cloak. At least this one is an heirloom of sorts. They're Northerners. Big on traditions. It should be appropriate. Slow down and breathe. She is fucking profound. Davos said trust. Alright, I trust that she won't run screaming back down the aisle.
It's him. His eyes are so grey. He looks nervous. But, he's smiling. That's a good sign. I wonder how I look to him? Why did his family give me such lavish gifts? What if he's really an asshole and they're trying to bribe me? No, he was so nice on the balcony. Even offered to go get my brush. What was his love life like? He's quite handsome. Bet he's had girls all over him. Getting closer. Closer. If he's doing this, he must have had some heartbreak, some terrible experience. Unless someone volunteered him. But, he's here so.....
Sansa and her father finally reached the steps to the altar. The music stopped and she could hear the High Septon intoning a prayer. She didn’t hear a word. She couldn’t take her eyes off Jon. Standing there, in front of the statue of The Father, looking like he just walked out of an Esquire photo shoot. His eyes were warm, yet appraising. His smile magnificent. She squeezed her father’s arm and turned to kiss his cheek. She looked back to him. Their gazes locked. She knew she would go to him. He held his hand out to her. She took a deep breath and stepped toward her future.
Jon felt frozen in place. She was a princess. He didn’t know how to describe her any other way. The white and silver lace ball gown peaking just beneath her maiden’s cloak. The crown of silver roses in her magnificent red hair. She was blushing and sweetly kissed her father. He hoped that he wasn’t just staring at her with his mouth agape. When she turned back to him, her blue, blue, sparkling blue eyes met his. She beamed at him. Jon moved forward to receive her from her father. As she stepped forward, Jon stepped toward her. Their hands touched, fingertips first, then he enclosed her hand in his. He had no intention of letting go.
Cameras clicked around them. Videographers positioned themselves on each side and there were more at the top of the altar on either side of the High Septon. When their eyes met and their hands clasped, all of the world dissolved. Jon only saw his bride. His princess. Sansa only saw her husband to be, her Prince Charming. They started up the stairs together. Davos followed discretely behind with the Targaryen cloak. It was happening.
“Hi again.” she whispered. “I’m Sansa.”
“Jon, I’m Jon…. Sansa,” he whispered using her name of the first time, “ you take my breath away.”
“Keep breathing, please.” Sansa continued squeezing his hand. “I was planning on marrying you.”
“Good, I was planning on marrying you too.”
They continued to climb the stairs to the top of the altar of The Seven, the videographers following their every step. One more step. Jon nodded to Sansa. She winked back. They stepped up together to face the High Septon.
“Welcome all to the wedding of Jon and Sansa.” began the High Septon. “We will begin with the traditional cloaking ceremony. Jon, you may now cloak your bride and bring her under your protection.”
Jon reluctantly let go of Sansa’s hand. Sansa undid the silver direwolf clasp and allowed the cloak to drape softly on her shoulders. Jon saw the glint of the diamond key around her neck. Davos had stepped up to Jon’s side and held the black and red brocade and jeweled cloak toward him. Jon turned to Davos and then back to Sansa questioning how to proceed?
“Take her cloak, go ahead.” prompted the High Septon.
Jon looked at the High Septon and then back to Sansa. They could feel the digital eyes on them as they both fumbled. It felt like minutes passed. Finally, Sansa turned her back to Jon, so he could remove her maiden cloak. Jon gently lifted it from her shoulders and then turned and gave it to Davos who in turn handed him the heavy Targaryen cloak. Sansa had turned to face him again, so Jon walked around her and unfolded the thick fabric and with both hands encircled her in the weighty cloak.
“Thanks.” he whispered, his lips grazing her hair.
“Family and friends, we stand here in the sight of the Gods and loved ones to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul. Now and forever.” intoned the High Septon. “Now in the modern tradition, the couple will exchange rings.”
Jon turned to Davos who handed him the two rings. Jon was amazed that Sansa was still standing before him wearing the cloak. She glanced at his hands. They were trembling. He was trying to figure out which hand to hold two wedding bands in. He finally grasped them tightly in his right hand.
“There are two rings. Is that alright?” Jon asked. “May I?”
She nodded her ascent and extended her left hand toward him. He took her hand. He was so nervous. Sansa’s hand shook a bit and then stilled at his touch. Someone dropped a boom mic over their heads intent on getting every word.
“I want you to have a symbol of our union and my promise to love and protect you that you can wear always. I will keep you to my heart and hold you to my soul. I will let nothing of you go, ever.” Jon said as he slid the white and yellow gold and diamond band onto her finger.
Jon then handed Sansa a simple white and yellow gold band. One of the cameramen leaned intrusively over her to get a close up of their hands. She turned and glared at him and he backed off. She took Jon’s left hand and slid the ring onto his finger.
“I want you to wear this ring always as a symbol of the loving bond we are creating. I accept your protection as my husband. You will become my heart and I will hold your precious soul to mine for eternity.”
The two stood silently appraising each other. Both surprised by the words they had just spoken to each other. They had not been told to write vows to each other as that wasn’t part of the traditional ritual. The High Septon reached forward and took their left hands, placing Jon’s hand under Sansa’s in a further symbol of protection. He produced a yellow ribbon from his robe and began to bind their hands together and tie them in a knot on top.
Again he began to speak the ancient words. “Let it be known that Sansa of House Stark and Jon of House Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of The Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.” The Septon then untied the ribbon and placed it on the altar. He looked at them both. “Look upon each other and say the words.”
Sansa and Jon took deep breaths and intertwined their fingers as they both spoke them together. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine. I am his and he is mine.” Their separate voices mingling. “From this day, until the end of my days.”
They both paused for a moment and then Jon spoke triumphantly. “With this kiss, I pledge my love.” He drew Sansa even more closely to him and kissed her. “I’ve been waiting for this part.”
“So have I!” She replied and returned his kiss.
They could feel the videographers hovering and jostling each other for the best angle, but they didn’t care. However, propriety and thoughts of their families watching, did catch them. Jon and Sansa turned and faced their gathered loved ones, hand in hand. Applause filled the Sept. The live TV audience went wild. The orchestra began to play Beethoven’s Ode to Joy as they walked down the steps. Sansa raised her skirts with her free hand and he realized for the first time that her shoes were pale yellow. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, the guests remained in their places applauding, cameras clicked and flashed. Jon and Sansa proceeded down the aisle, videographers following their every move, but it didn’t matter.
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