She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself.

She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself.