A/N Thank you to Auria for the beta! Sorry for the delay. Thank you for continuing to read and the reviews!
Chapter 11
They broke their fast on some food Pyp had brought them, after Maester Aemon and Gin had checked on Deirdre and the babies. "Where's Jon?" Deirdre asked, cradling Brandon to her shoulder.
"He's still sleeping. He was injured the other day, so the maester suggested we let him sleep," Pyp replied. "How are you feeling, my la…I mean, Your Grace?"
"Still tired and sore, but better than yesterday. I was actually able to sleep a little, thanks to your dreamwine." She turned to him suddenly. "Forgive me, Pyp. I didn't even thank you for helping me last night. If it hadn't been for you and Gin, well, I don't think we would have managed." Leaning over, she kissed him gently on the cheek, smiling when his ears turned red.
"Beware, Your Grace," Dacey smirked. "It won't do the realm any good to have half the Night's Watch under your spell."
"A group of men in a frozen wasteland with no women around? She'll soon have all of them under her spell," Ned laughed quietly, trying not to disturb a sleeping Benjen in his arms. "You could even take a few for yourself, Dacey."
"Ignore them," Deirdre told Pyp. "They're loyal to the core, but sometimes their manners leave much to be desired." She shot both Ned and Dacey a warning look.
Jon came in then and Dacey could see from his face that he hadn't managed to sleep. He glanced briefly at Deirdre and nodded to her before asking to speak with Dacey. She stepped outside the door with him. "If this is about last night…"
"No, nothing like that. We have to tell Deirdre about Robb. We can't keep this from her any longer and should she find out from someone else…" He ran his hands through his hair. "You've been with her for these past few moons, thus have a better handle on how she's been lately. Is she strong enough to hear this now? We need her to be able to be there for those babes. She can't fall apart now, not while everything remains so uncertain. There is going to be a battle here soon, worse than the one we had yesterday, and if I die…you'll need to get her and her sons to safety."
Not for the first time, Dacey wondered if the king had been right to send them to the Wall. She trusted Jon Snow and could see how committed he was to their survival, but she didn't know how the other brothers would react to their presence once it became more commonly known. Besides, the Night's Watch had enough to contend with at present. Could they ask them to do any more than they had? Her family had always been staunch supporters of the Watch, and Dacey knew only too well how poorly-outfitted the Watch was. And now a hoard of wildlings sits at the gates, preparing to attack… "We'll get her to Bear Island, or to the mountains where Ned's family lives. Perhaps it would be best if we began making preparations now."
"No, the wildlings might still have some men south of the Wall. It's safer for you here for now. How will she take this? She needs to hear the truth and it should come from me," Jon said. He was the palest she'd seen him and she reached up to touch his face. He shouldn't be here. He can barely stand.
"You're feverish. You should be resting your wound. Allow Ned and I to tell her," Dacey offered. "She knows us and would listen to us…"
"Robb was my brother. You brought his wife to me for safety, and while she's here, she's my responsibility."
Why must Starks be so stubborn? The whole bloody lot of them. "The Queen is strong, but a lot of her strength came from their love. I honestly don't know how she'll manage this. We've all been conflicted about keeping this from her, but we couldn't risk her losing the babes." Dacey paused, searching for the right words. "There's something else you should know. We think Tywin Lannister helped them plan the Red Wedding. Someone gave specific instructions that she be brought to King's Landing, so they're after her, and will probably keep looking for her. The Imp married Sansa. It won't be long before they attempt to claim Winterfell and the north for their own, through Sansa if they don't manage to get their hands on King Robb's heirs."
She hesitated again. "You should also know that your brother made a will. He wanted you to act as Lord Regent until his heir was old enough, and issued a degree of legitimization to give you the powers and protection of the Stark name." Dacey reached inside her cloak and pulled out the parchment bearing Robb's seal. "You'll want to read this in Maester Aemon's presence so he can attest to its validity. My mother has a copy of it as well."
Jon Snow hadn't so much as twitched. His face remained blank, though something flickered in his grey eyes. Finally he spoke. "All of that can wait until later. Right now, all that concerns me is telling Deirdre of Robb." His voice was soft but firm. She nodded, tucking the parchment back in her cloak.
"Gin and I can watch the children. Why don't you take Deirdre to my room?" Before he could turn away, she stopped him and looked down, suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry about last night, my lord. I should never have been so presumptuous, either about your character or about your motivations. It shames me to think of it."
"Think no more on it. You're not the first to judge me, my lady, and I daresay I've grown quite used to it. We tend to be blind when it comes to protecting those we love. And I am no lord," His voice was wary, and he moved towards the room then, shutting the door behind him.
Dacey stared at the door he'd gone through for a long time. I told him King Robb legitimized him, and he didn't make a sound. Isn't that what all bastards want? But then, the Starks aren't like the rest of us, are they, and he's just lost his brother. Since the wedding, her focus has been on honoring her promise and defending her queen, and she hadn't spared a thought for how their presence would affect the man they sought for aid. But Jon Snow was clearly as vulnerable as Deirdre was right now, and his sorrow clearly weighed on him. He was just more adept at hiding it. The Starks may truly be made of ice.
x-x-x
"Why have we come here?" Deirdre asked, entering Dacey's chambers. She was still weak and sore, so Jon kept his arm securely around her waist until she was seated on the bed.
"I wanted to talk to you alone." He sat down beside her and she turned to him, reaching for his face and idly tracing a scar.
"I didn't even ask about your scars last night. I once dreamed an eagle attacked Ghost. Or was it you?"
"Yes, an eagle attacked me," Jon said softly. Her fingers were gentle and a flicker of worry crossed her face.
"Jon, you're feverish. Let me send for Maester Aemon. Is this because of your leg? I noticed you limping as well."
He took her hands in his own, studying them for a moment. "Yes, but it must wait. Deirdre, I need to tell you something…it's going to be hard for you to hear it."
She was quiet for a moment before she met his eyes again, hesitating ever so slightly. "You're going to try to convince me that Robb's dead…that even without a body, you all assume he's…"
"There was a body, Deirdre," he interrupted her, voice still soft. "Your men were afraid you'd lose the babes if they told you. But Robb is dead."
"No," she shook her head quickly, avoiding his gaze. "Jon, please stop. Just stop! He's not dead. Why are you saying this?"
"I wish to the gods it wasn't true. I know you loved him, we all did. He was my brother, and I miss him terribly." Jon reached out and gently lifted her chin until she was looking him in the eyes. "But you need to accept this. You need to focus on the future, yours and your sons'. He's gone, Deirdre. He's gone, and he's not coming back."
Tears filled her eyes and she sobbed loudly. Jon brought her into his arms and held her tightly even as her cries became screams, ugly and anguished and echoing, loud enough to be heard by anyone in the rooms and halls around them. "No no no, please, Jon. Please, not Robb. Please, Jon. Please."
He could do nothing but hold her tightly, barely able to withstand her devastation. Eventually she was too exhausted to continue and withdrew, numb, the life gone from her eyes. He wondered if he'd lost her, if she'd gone away deep inside. Her voice was impassive when she asked him where Robb's body was.
Jon swallowed and had to look away. "It's best you don't know. It will only hurt you more."
"Tell me. I'll know eventually and I'd rather it came from you," she said, her eyes turning to him.
"They beheaded him," Jon admitted at last.
She flinched, but took a deep breath. "I want his bones back, Jon. He needs to be buried in the crypts of Winterfell when we take it back. His sons should have a place where they can visit their father." At this, her voice broke.
Jon took her hand and swallowed roughly, saying, "They say that they stitched Grey Wind's head to his body. I don't think they'll be keen to give up his bones."
She didn't even seem to register the shock as she responded. He barely recognized her voice. "I don't care what they're keen to do. His bones belong with his family, not those abominations. Tywin helped plan this. I will kill him myself and sew his head onto Walder Frey's body."
"No. You'll be staying far away from both of them. Tywin offered a reward for your return, so he obviously wants you alive, and the north is surely soon be crawling with sellswords and hedge knights craving coin. We need to keep you out of their hands."
"He wants my children, to use to keep the northerners in line. He doesn't care about me. It was only a matter of pride for him, because I was a Lannister, his property, to use as he saw fit. He showed how little he cared for me by continuing to fight that war with Robb, rather than trying to resolve this by giving Lord Stark and your sisters back. We even had Jaime and yet he continued. It's always about power for him. Cersei may have some of her own, but the rest of us are expendable." Her voice was angry again and Jon knew he had to reach her.
Taking her face in his hands, he forced her to look him in the eyes. "You cannot look back. Listen to me. I understand your anger, but vengeance will destroy you." He saw the defiance in her eyes and knew that Dacey had been right. Her marriage and the war had changed her. "Please, think of your sons. You don't want to be bitter and vengeful. You'll end up like Cersei, and you're better than that. You have a kind heart."
Her eyes widened in surprise and he wondered if she would strike him as she had the previous night, but she merely seemed taken aback. He continued carefully, "Vengeance will consume your strength. Robb died for a noble cause. Do not become a kinslayer or bring a war of vengeance to the north. Robb's people love you. You can give them hope and restore their lands, or you can continue to bleed them until there's nothing left. Which do you think Robb would want for you and his sons? "
Tears welled up in her eyes and she nodded, pulling away from him. She took a deep breath and stared down at her hands. "I can't do this, Jon. I can't be a mother and a queen without Robb. I can't allow people like Walder Frey and Roose Bolton to murder my husband and suffer no punishment. I've never wanted to kill anyone before, not truly, not every my former husband, and now there is a list of so many who should die. I just want justice for my husband. I want justice for Bran and Rickon, for your father and Lady Stark. But how do I do that: deal out this justice and become a killer without becoming hard and cold like the rest of my family? I can't do this alone." She's still there. We haven't lost her yet, thank the gods.
"Focus on your children. They're more important than anything now, including justice. Robb wouldn't want you to raise them to be consumed with hatred or vengeance. The North remembers, Deirdre. Always. We'll find a way to do the rest, but for now, focus on Brandon and Benjen." He kissed her forehead and pulled her to rest on his shoulder. "And you're not alone. I'm here."
"You've sworn vows to remain here. You can't leave. It'll just be me and the boys," she said softly.
"I'll find a way. I know I've told you that before, but I won't make the same mistake twice. I'll find some way to take care of all of you. I owe it to my brother," Jon promised. His heart ached for her, knowing that he may not survive the clash with Mance. He couldn't die yet. She'd lost everything but her sons and him. I'll live for them, no matter the cost.
Her fingers pressed against his chest, then moved to his neck. "Jon, you're burning up," she said, sitting up abruptly, her face full of concern. "I'm sending for Maester Aemon." She rose and went to the table, pouring some cool water on a rag. Placing it on his head, she said, "Let me see your wound."
"I can't. It's on my thigh," he said, relieved with the coolness of the rag.
"Jon, we were lovers. I've seen you without a stitch of clothing on, I think I can see you in small clothes," she insisted, unlacing his breeches.
Too weak to struggle, he allowed her to pull them over his hips, down to his knees. She removed the bloody dressing carefully. Her fingers felt cool on his skin as she probed the wound gently. It smelled foul, even to him. "It's opened and has festered."
He glanced down at his leg to see blood and pus running from the inflamed wound. Deirdre shook her head. "You're promising to protect me while poison is coursing through your veins!" she exclaimed in frustration.
Deirdre walked to the door and opened it, issuing commands. "Find Maester Aemon. Someone needs to tend to Jon's wound."
She returned to the bed and forced him to lie down, stripping him of the rest of his garments until he was down to his tunic and small clothes. Covering him with a blanket, she pulled his head into her lap and wiped his face with the cool cloth.
"You're so stubborn, just like Robb," she said after a moment. "When he was hit with an arrow at the Crag, he didn't stop fighting, just jerked it out of his shoulder. It wasn't until hours later when he collapsed that anyone knew he was hurt. Did you take the arrow out yourself?"
"Yes," Jon said as he shivered. "I had to. I was alone."
"Well, you're not alone now."
Her skin is so soft. Shame flooded him. He had just told her that her husband had died, Jon's own brother, and yet all he wanted was to feel her lips on his. What kind of man was he? His thoughts were so muddled and heavy. He reached out and covered her hand with his own as his feverish eyes met hers.
"I promise I won't leave you again," he whispered.
"Shh, Jon," she replied gently, trailing her fingers through his sweaty hair. Had he been feverish this entire time? He hadn't noticed. "You're going to be fine."
He didn't get a chance to respond as Maester Aemon and Clydas swept into the room, followed closely by the Wull boy and one of the Umber men.
"Jon, do you remember what we did the first night after you were wounded?" the maester asked, examining his wound carefully with his fingers. Jon nodded. "We're going to need to do it again. It won't be as bad this time, but I shall need to drain the wound of infection."
Despite Jon and Ned's urging, Deirdre wouldn't leave, even as the men held him down and the maester laid a hot knife on the wound. Deirdre held his hand as he attempted not to scream, and his nails left indents on hers. Afterwards, she left to check on the twins and Jon reluctantly succumbed to sleep.
x-x-x
Deirdre returned to sit by Jon's bedside as her sons napped. Gin had assured her that she'd watch over them and let her know when they woke. A conveniently large dose of milk of the poppy meant that Jon was completely unaware of her presence, and she gently ran her hand over his cheek.
He's the last of Ned Stark's sons now. For so long he'd lived in the shadows of his trueborn siblings, and barring Sansa, he was all that remained. It was ironic and cruel. And her children, her sweet babes, were all that remained of Robb. She'd held onto hope, though some part of her must have known. How could I not have known he was dead? He was a part of me. But to give up hope would have made his death real. As long as she believed he lived, she could keep him alive. Oh Robb.
But he was gone. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back. He'd never hold her again, never kiss her or laugh softly as he attempted to keep her in bed in the morning. He'd never look at her from across the room and make her feel that rush of desire from the way his eyes trailed her body or lingered on her lips. He'd never pretend to resist her seduction to see to what lengths she'd go. His arms would never hold her when she wept about him riding into battle, shielding her from anything their opponents could throw at them. She'd never hear his voice first thing in the morning, drowsy and indolent, or last thing at night, as he kissed her and wished her good dreams. He'd never hold Brandon or Benjen, would never, ever see their beautiful and perfect sons. That hurt so much. Robb had died because of her, just as his father had died because of her family. She had done as much damage to the Starks as Jaime or Cersei, Tywin or Joffrey. What need had you of marches or scouts, Robb? Your enemy was right here.
"He'll be fine," Ned said softly from the doorway and Deirdre glanced up in surprise. She hasn't heard him come in. Tears coursed down her face as she held Jon's hand tightly, suddenly afraid to let him go.
"He's the last one," she answered, wiping away the tears. "Ned Stark's last son. Robb's last brother. Brandon and Benjen's only uncle." She glanced up at his face. "It's my fault. If I hadn't gotten pregnant, Robb could have set aside our marriage and married a Frey…he'd still be alive."
"No," Ned replied shaking his head and coming to stand beside her. "Lord Bolton and Tywin Lannister would have found some other way. He humiliated the Lannisters with every battle he won, and they had to stop him. They were desperate. Your Grace, your love and your sons were everything to the king." He smiled faintly. "He'd have sacrificed the rest of his years for the one he had with you."
She lowered her head and swallowed back a lump. "It should never have been like this. Good men should outlast the evil ones. Robb was so young and was a good king. He was a great man. He cared for people; he cared about honor and loyalty. And our sons will never see that, they'll never know how much he sacrificed for them. There will always be that emptiness in their life." Her eyes met his. "Brandon is King in the North now, Ned. And Benjen is next in line. I feel like they're being sentenced to misery and death. I don't want that for them. I want them to grow up and be happy. What kind of happiness can Brandon have? What kind of childhood does the King in the North have?"
Ned was silent for a moment before shaking his head. "I don't know, Your Grace. But I know your love for your sons will be strong enough to—"
"Catelyn Stark loved her sons, too," she interrupted. "She loved them so much, and it didn't protect them. She had to watch Robb die." She returned her focus to Jon. "I can't bring Robb back. No matter what I do, he'll still be dead. So I'll sit here and hold the hand of his brother and pray to the Gods that they don't take him too, because my prayers might still help him. It's too late for Robb. All of my prayers went unanswered because he was dead all along. I will watch Jon, and I know that no one will hide the truth from me or give me false hope that he's still out there waiting for me, not rotting away in some shallow grave at the Twins."
"We did what we thought was best for you and your sons," Ned said quietly. "We didn't want to see you hurting even more than you were, or see you lose your babes."
She nodded. She wasn't truly angry about their deception. There was too much anger for other things to feel anger at the few people that were left to her, and she was tired, so tired. She might not have made to the Wall at all had she given up on Robb. But Jon was here, flesh and blood in her hands, and there was comfort knowing he was real. "I just need him to survive, Ned. If he survives, maybe there is hope for the rest of us. Maybe my sons don't have to lose their uncle, too."
Ned eyed her for a moment, silent, before nodding and leaving her alone with Jon. Deirdre closed her eyes and squeezed his hand, listening to the sound of his breathing, soft and steady.
x-x-x
"I don't want us to destroy each other," Jon whispered. He stepped further away, turning his back on her.
Deirdre was quiet as she realized he couldn't face her for a reason. "Are you…ending this?"
He swallowed hard and nodded. "I don't want to, but this... this is madness. We'll never be allowed to be together. This will eventually destroy us."
She turned around and, with a calm sadness, said, "How many times have you said we couldn't be together? Then you say that I am yours and you are mine, and out of jealousy because you don't want me to be with Robb. You're acting like a child who breaks something so no one else can play with it."
Jon turned and reached for her. "Deirdre…I'm sorry. Please don't go." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into his embrace. "Nothing else matters but us. We'll leave, we'll go somewhere far away from here and be together. Somewhere where no one cares if I'm a bastard or you're a Lannister."
"Yes," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. "We'll always be together. I love you."
Jon quickly divested them of their clothing, kissing her all the while, then carried her to the bed. He climbed in beside her and ran his hand over her hip. He pulled her back into his arms and tasted her mouth.
"You know nothing, Jon Snow," a voice whispered against his lips and Jon opened his eyes to tangled red hair. He jerked away. "You stole me, then you betrayed me and let your crow brothers kill me." Ygritte grabbed his arm. "Why would your proper lady want you now, crow? So you can betray her too?"
"I'm sorry, Ygritte," he whispered, taking her face in his hands. "I never meant for you to die."
He heard a snarl and turned to see a flash of grey fur before he felt the direwolf's teeth in his thigh. He could hear Lady Stark's voice over his screams. "Everyone knows that bastards are wanton and treacherous by nature, born of lust and deceit."
When Jon opened his eyes again, the room was in flames and Robb was standing there in his armor with a crown of swords in his hands, bronze and iron. Blood ran down his face and chest and Grey Wind jumped off Jon to lay at Robb's feet. And suddenly, his father was there as well.
"Jon, you cannot balk now. Do whatever is asked of you," Father said, an echo of Qhorin Halfhand.
"Only you can protect the Stark line. I once promised you I'd raise your child as my own. Now you must raise my sons," Robb said, coming to sit on the bed. "Even if my beloved resists, you must make her see that you're her only chance at survival. Otherwise, they'll be hunted, they'll kill my sons." Tears filled Robb's eyes. "Don't let them die, Jon. Please, I beg you."
Father walked closer and said, "We all have to make sacrifices for our family, just as I did, so many years ago in the Tower of Joy. Go back to Winterfell. The girls will return to you, as will Bran and Rickon. They remember the way home."
The smoke filled the room and made Jon's eyes burn. His leg throbbed, and he was so confused. He felt soft fur brush against him as Ghost lay next to him, lowering his head to his paws. His father's form grew fainter until he was little more than a shape in the smoke, and then he was gone. A dark-haired woman he didn't know took his father's hand. Arya? She reached out to Jon, but Ned shook his head, and they faded away. Robb knelt before a pregnant Deirdre and kissed her stomach, then rose to kiss her lips. There were tears on his cheeks and blood poured from the arrows embedded in his body. Deirdre kissed him, holding him tightly, and they were gone as well. Only Jon remained, alone save for Ghost.
Jon jerked awake with a gasp. A candle was lit and Deirdre was leaning over him, soothing him and pressing a cool cloth against his head again. "Your fever seems to have broken." She smiled tiredly. The dark circles under her eyes showed how little sleep she'd had.
"How long have I been sleeping? Did you stay with me the entire time?"
"Close to a day. I took care of the twins when I needed to, but Pyp or Grenn sat with you then," she said. "You have loyal friends. How are you feeling?"
"Disoriented. The milk of the poppy gave me strange dreams." He took the cup of water she offered him. "Have you slept at all?"
"No." She looked down for a moment before raising her eyes to his. "Every time I close my eyes, I dream about Robb in the Twins. Grey Wind's howls echoed through the camp during the attack, and they're all I can hear. I thought he was with Robb and so he would be safe, but apparently Lord Frey had demanded that he be locked up. If Robb had known they'd have done that, he would have left him with me. Perhaps Grey Wind could have saved him." She looked down for a moment before continuing, "All of that howling amidst the blood and chaos…" She shook her head, as if she were trying to shake the memories from it. "I stayed with you while the babes slept. You had nightmares too. You cried out a few times, for your father, for me, for Robb and Grey Wind, Ghost, and your brothers and sisters. Also, for someone named Ygritte." At Jon's silence, she asked, "Was she someone you loved?"
How could he explain? He'd wanted Ygritte, and in some ways he'd wanted to love her, to chase away Deirdre's ghost and the guilt of the betrayal he knew he would soon gift Ygritte with. After a moment, he answered, his voice soft. "I cared about her but no, I didn't love her. Not really. She died here at the battle the day you arrived."
"I'm sorry." Her hand found his and she squeezed it gently.
Jon glanced over at her and reached out to brush the back of his fingers across her cheek. She didn't meet his eyes. "You should go get some sleep," he said quietly.
"I can't." Tears shone in her eyes. "I can't think of Robb like that again, and I can't stand to hear the howls. Grey Wind must have known Robb was dying even as I heard it. But he wasn't with Robb. And I was so close and Robb was dying and I didn't even know…he died alone, Jon. He shouldn't have been alone. I should have been with him."
Jon shook his head. "No. He didn't want that. Even if you don't care about your own life, you had your children to think about. Robb wanted you to be safe." He could see that she was too grief-stricken to listen now, so he eased up. "Would it help you to lie here with me?" he asked.
"I need to be near the boys. One of them wakes every two hours wanting to nurse. As soon as one of them finishes, it seems like the other is hungry," she said, then laughed sadly. "I didn't know I could ever be so tired."
"Perhaps I can find a wet nurse from Mole Town to help you, after the battle," he said, trying to clear his own cluttered thoughts.
"No, I want to do it. They're my sons, my last connection to Robb. I don't want to lose that."
"You'll never lose your connection to Robb," he reassured her. "He's part of all of us. Even your men still love him."
Deirdre nodded slowly. "Let me send for the maester."
"No, just stay with me for a few moments. Rest," he said, urging her to lie down beside him. They were quiet for a long while before he said, "I dreamed of that last night we were together, but in the dream, I stopped you from leaving my room."
"Jon. We can't go back…"
"No, just listen to me. Please. In the dream, things kept changing, so it wasn't a normal dream. I was in my room at Winterfell and it was on fire. Ygritte came to me, then Lady Stark spoke, and Grey Wind jumped onto the bed and attacked my leg. Perhaps my real pain intruded on the dream then. But Father and Robb were there afterwards. And a woman I didn't know who looked like Arya, only older. Robb told me to protect you, and Father said we had to go back to Winterfell, to rebuild it. He said the girls and Bran and Rickon would know their way home if we did."
"Bran and Rickon are dead. You know that," she said softly. "Besides, how can you dream a wolf dream about dead people? It was just a dream caused by the milk of the poppy."
"It wasn't. I saw a wolf when I escaped the wildlings before the battle. I thought it was Grey Wind at first, but it had to be Summer. The eagle that attacked me was a warg of a man I killed. They'd said that part of the man lived on in the eagle and that's why he attacked me. What if Bran lives on in Summer?"
She was quiet for so long he wondered if she had fallen asleep. When he turned to her, she shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know anything right now. I feel like everything I knew and grew to count on has been stripped away and left me raw. If I'd never met you or Robb, I'd still be living a life without love, but then I wouldn't know this loss and it wouldn't hurt so much. Part of me wishes I could go back to the way things were."
"But nothing can replace your sons. And you still have me and your friends."
"Yes, but for how long? Everyone I love dies in the end. You weren't there – I grew to love Bran and Rickon as if they were my own brothers. Robb's bannermen and soldiers were my friends. Smalljon died with Robb and his new bride is alone now, carrying his child. The Greatjon is a captive. I don't know about Lord Edmure, and couldn't say what they'll do to him if he still lives. Even Lady Stark and I were becoming closer. I grew to know and care about them, and they're dead now." She looked away from him, eyes bright with unshed tears. "And part of my heart and soul died with Robb," she whispered.
Jon didn't know quite what to say, but tried anyway. "Robb lives on in Brandon and Benjen," he said, taking her hand. "He'll always be with you."
"I'm terrified for my sons, Jon. I don't know if I can do this without him. I'm not strong without him, and I feel so lost and hopeless." She took a deep breath and met his eyes. "My son is a king. Three kings I've known have died in the last year."
Before he could respond, Dacey walked in with one of the babies. She started slightly at seeing them lying together, but said nothing. Deirdre sat up and took her crying son attempting to soothe him. "Brandon sleeps less than I do." She unbuttoned her dress and held him to her breast. Jon looked away and felt Dacey's eyes on him. He felt guilty, despite the fact that they'd done no wrong.
"How's your leg?" Dacey asked him, looking genuinely concerned.
"It mostly hurts if I move," he japed weakly. "I need to attempt to get up, though. Mance Rayder will be upon us soon, and I have to help the others. Also, I would speak with you, my lady."
Dacey helped him to his feet and Jon bit back a moan. It didn't pain him as much as the first time, but he'd still need his crutch. "Deirdre, go back to your room and try to rest, even if you don't sleep." She nodded and he came over to see Brandon. She pulled him from her breast and handed him to Jon.
"You seem heavier than yesterday," Jon smiled, cradling the babe. "You're going to be as big as Hodor someday."
"He eats more than Benjen. I'm afraid for Benjen," Deirdre admitted. "He's quiet and barely nurses."
"I think that's common among twins," Dacey said. "There was a pair of twins born before I left Bear Island for Winterfell. One was born larger and grew faster. The other was small and slower to grow. Our maester said that in the womb, one twin is always the dominant one, and that's how they'd act as babies. Do not worry if one grows faster or does things sooner."
"I wonder if Cersei was the dominant twin," Deirdre said sardonically. "She always seemed able to dominate Jaime."
"Your twins will not end up like them," Jon said, glancing at her. "Yours will be like you and Robb, although I see a little bit of Arya in Brandon. I think he'll be a handful when he grows up. Benjen might favor her in looks but I think Brandon has her spirit."
"I wouldn't mind that," Deirdre said taking her son back. As soon as she held him to her breast, he latched onto her nipple. She smiled. "Slow down, little one."
Jon kissed Deirdre's cheek and stepped outside with Dacey. Under her breath, she said, "Didn't I warn you?"
"I'm trying to support her, not take advantage of her." He sighed in frustration. "Lady Mormont, we have other things to worry about. This battle with Mance Rayder is going to be unlike anything else you've experienced. Giants and mammoths, wildlings and the Wall, the stuff of the stories we've grown up hearing. It won't end quickly and they outnumber us a few hundred to one. And there are worse things out there," Jon explained quickly, leaning up against the wall.
"Please call me Dacey. I insist. No one calls me Lady Mormont and if they do, they tend to forget I can best them in a sword fight," she scoffed. "If the Wall is breeched, what will they do to the people here? What about the queen and her children? Brandon is the King in the North, and he's only a day old."
"They won't care if she's a queen or that her children are a king and a prince, or even heirs to Winterfell and the north. I don't know if they'd kill a woman and her children, though. I've watched them kill an unarmed old man, but Mance would likely spare them, knowing he could use them to negotiate with the northern lords. He knows the value of the Starks, at least. Let one of your men stay with me to keep you updated. If the battle seems lost, you will depart immediately. Make your way to Last Hearth and the Umbers will help you get to Bear Island," Jon said.
"There are a hundred leagues between Castle Black and Last Hearth. If we can reach the Shadow Tower, Ned's people can meet us there to get us across the Bay of Ice."
"Mance will focus the majority of his forces on Castle Black, but you may still encounter bands of raiders further down the Wall. And I simply don't know the best way for two newborn babes," Jon admitted. "You'd need a cart, and you'd move slowly. Let's speak with her other men. Perhaps someone has a better solution."
As she walked, helping Jon to limp alongside her, Dacey broached the topic of Castle Black's defenses. "Ned and I noticed that you're very short on capable men. The queen has ten guards here. She wants six of her men to help the Night's Watch, retaining Ned, Adair, Robert, and myself to guard her person and the babes."
Jon's mind raced. Deirdre needed those men to protect her, but the Wall needed as many capable men as possible and these were seasoned soldiers. If any of them were killed, it would reduce her chances of getting to safety, but if they didn't protect the Wall, the whole realm's safety was at risk, including her. He'd have to take the six men and pray that if something happened, four men would be enough to get her to Last Hearth in time. Though he didn't think Mance would kill a mother and her children, he couldn't trust the rest of them, Rattleshirt and Harma Dogshead and their ilk. And how likely was it, truly, that Mance would look favorably on Jon's blood after his betrayal? That ship has sailed.
"We need to hurry. I must meet with her men then help my sworn brothers. We have no Lord Commander now so every man is needed." Jon shook his head. "Gods save us all."
