Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners

It was not the custom for men to be present in the birthing room, but sitting outside listening and waiting was too much for Jon. The lack of noise was especially unsettling, given he had been led to believe it was commonplace for woman to scream themselves hoarse. But Layla was no ordinary woman.

Ignoring the protest's of the other men - all Layla's personal guard who had let only him, her step-sons and their uncle near - he barged into the room to be greeted by Layla laid in bed, covered in sweat as the other women worked around her.

"Jon," she called out, reaching her hand out towards him

That was all the encouragement he needed, rushing over to her side to clutch her hand in his. Even if there was nothing he could do, her relief at his presence was clear on her face.

The women gave him scornful looks, but when one had dared to move to ask him to leave, Layla had practically growled in warning. No others tried to remove him after that.

"Not much longer now, my lady," one of the women said, "Just a few more pushes."

"That's a few too many." She replied, the pain not being an impediment to her humour

Perhaps the pain was a natural way of controlling the population, she thought, to discourage women from breeding too much.

The pain itself was no more than she expected, but there was always a certain fear associated with birth. And when giving life to her child, she felt like a child once more. She wanted her mother. She wanted Robb.

But all she had was Jon.

The woman had not lied, and a few pushes later the pain subsided. With the sound of a babe's cries ringing out, she leant her head back onto the pillow. It was done. Her child had come into the world, far less dramatic than all it took to get there.

"It's a boy." One of the woman told her, though it was a few seconds before the words were fully realized

The child was a boy. And even though she would have loved her child regardless, it being a son certainly eased matters.

As they placed the child in her arms, she quickly studied him, looking for Robb in him without really realizing that she was. He had a mess of black hair, and blue eyes. Though all babes had blue eyes at first, perhaps his would remain so, and he would have something of his father in him. For she could see very little of Robb's Tully colouring, instead she saw much of herself.

The women all slowly filtered out of the room, so that only Maester Corren remained. He had come with them when she had fled Widow's Watch specifically to help her birth her child, and was a loyal friend to the family of her first husband.

"Have you thought of a name for him, my lady?" Maester Corren asked

"Robb and I had thought Eddard," she replied, looking up to Jon, "What do you think?"

It was not a question he was expecting, and he was very surprised she had asked it. He knew not why she wanted his input, for the child was not his to name and he would have no son of his own to name after his father.

"I think my father would have approved." He answered, offering her a small smile

"Would you like me to send in Willam and Rickard?" Maester Corren asked

"Yes," she nodded, "I should think they would like to meet their brother."

Step-brother, Jon thought but dared not say aloud for Layla would think it a treasonous statement. She had never treated the children of her first husband as anything other than her children, albeit with a slight distance necessitated by the lack of blood relation. This has been especially so for Willam, who Jon remembered to be less open to her during their visit to Winterfell.

But two years had passed, and Jon had seen that the two boys were as devoted to her as they would be if she had borne them herself. And whenever they spoke of the babe that now lay in her arms, it was as he spoke of his siblings.

Jon stepped back as she passed the babe around. First to Willam then Rickard, then Harlon stepped forward to meet the son of his brother's wife. Jon had often wondered if Harlon resented Layla for marrying Robb, which had only put his nephews in further peril. But he had never seemed to begrudge his good-sister her happiness, even casting Jon encouraging looks whenever he was with her, reminding him of Tormund.

His eyes shot up when he heard a knock on the door to see Ser Justin Massey awkwardly standing in the doorway. The guards stood menancingly behind him, and Jon was surprised they had even let him near without Layla's express permission.

"Congratulations, my lady," Ser Justin said, slowly stepping closer, "He's very beautiful."

"Thank you, Ser." She replied, courteously

"He'll be a heartbreaker when he's older," Ser Justin teased, but this only elicited a sad smile

"No," she said, looking down at her son, "He'll be a good man, like his father."

Both Jon and Justin locked eyes for a moment, sharing a look of pain at their desire for a woman they could never have.

"Come on, boys," Harlon said, moving his hands to their shoulders to steer them away from the bed, "Layla needs her rest."

The boys obliged, walking with their uncle from the room, followed by Ser Justin. Jon made to follow, but faltered when she spoke.

"Do you want to hold him?" She asked, expectantly looking up at him

Nodding, he took the seat beside her, allowing her to place the child in his arms. His nephew didn't look much like Robb, most likely much to his mother's disappointment. But he would grow up to be like his father, Layla would make sure of that. He would be brave and noble and every bit the lord his father and grandfather had been. Of course, holding his brother's son in his arms caused an aching in Jon's chest for what he would never had.

I could of, he admitted, if I took Stannis' offer. He could have Winterfell, and Layla, and be a father to Eddard and surround him with siblings. But he made vows, and he was no oathbreaker

The sight of Jon holding her son was a bittersweet one. The babe looked happy in his uncle's arms, but it only reminded her that he would never be held by his own father. Robb would never get to see their son, whom's legitimacy he died for. Not that Eddard would ever know that, he need never blame himself. His decisions did not kill his father. Not as hers had.

Jon was all that remained to her, the only father Eddard may ever know. Stannis intended her to marry again, and she was sure many would push for it, but she would fight them at every turn. To marry would mean to leave her son. She would already have to part with Willam and Rickard, whose place was at Widow's Watch. She could not lose anymore of her children.

"I need you Jon," she said, moving her hand to grip his arm, "Robb wanted him raised the way Ned raised you, but I don't know how to do that."

"I can't,"

"Please, Jon." She begged, the desperation clear, "I know you have your vows. But you're all we have left of the Starks. All I want is your help, nothing more."

He had vowed to never take a wife or father sons, but that was not what she was asking. Eddard was not his son. He would be an uncle, like Benjen was to him. He had to do this. For Robb.

"Okay."

Review and let me know what one-shot you want to read next. Maybe something during or prior to the War of the Five Kings