Davos asked David to show Lord Baelish into the Great Room after Lord Robyn and the rest of the traveling party had something to eat. He stood by the fireplace with his gloved left hand upon the stone mantel. Petyr Baelish was a man that used words like Knights used a sword, his tongue was as lethal as a double edge blade. The Lord of House Seaworth was about to show the man they called Littlefinger what a crabber son's son from Flea Bottom could truly do.

A short while after they arrived, Petyr walked in with Lord Finn by his side and gave Davos little regard as he looked around for Sansa. He walked over to the window, gazing out to the courtyard for any sign of Jon or Careen. When he was sure the Starks were not present, he turned to Davos with a sneer across his face.

"I'll wait here for Lady Sansa. Do tell your grace, I'm sorry I missed him this morning. Must say, I wasn't expecting to find you here. Is there a problem the King needed to attend to that he couldn't share with me?" Petyr said as he sat back in the chair, his lips curled up into a pleased smirk.

Davos turned to him, ready to set the arrogant man straight. "There is no problem. You might see it as one, but to those of House Stark, a very happy occasion. You can talk to your grace when he returns with the Queen. As for now, I think there are a few things you need to understand. Lady Sansa isn't a pawn to be used for your gain. I see the way you look at the young miss and I must stay, if her father were alive, you wouldn't have a head."

"But it's Ned Stark that doesn't have a head and he left his daughter alone in this world. I've looked after Sansa, taken care of her and made sure…" Petyr glared at Davos as he sat beside him, interrupting his monologue.

"Taken care of her? What Ramsay Bolton did to that girl will live with her until her dying day. You, my lord, have done more harm to that girl just to benefit yourself. It's not for me to cast any judgment upon you, if Lady Sansa and the King can give you, then so be it. Jon Snow is a good man, a forgiving man and honors his debts. Don't try crossing him or Lady Sansa or I swear by all the Gods… I will make you pay," Davos stared into the man's eyes, seeing a demon looking back at him.

Petyr's crooked smile was rubbing Davos the wrong way. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at the Onion Knight. "I came to Lady Sansa's aid, to help her regain Winterfell. She should be Queen in the North… but the North rather back a bastard. I will see Sansa wear a crown, that you can count on."

Davos rose from his chair when he heard Jon's voice booming down the hall to the Great Room. Petyr rose, his brittle smile now replacing the once smug look.

Jon strolled in, his Queen by his side and marched up to Lord Baelish. The clenched jaw and furrowed brow were enough to let Petyr know the King in the North was in no mood to mince words.

"My sister is Lady of Winterfell and if she wants to be Queen in the North, she's never said as much to me. I share the North and Winterfell with my sister and as a Stark, she has more right to both than I do. The Eyrie and The Vale came to the aid of House Stark upon my sister's request. If there was something you hoped to gain other than to repay Sansa for the treatment at Ramsay's hand, you need to come clean now. I'm waiting, my lord," Jon took off his gloves and cloak, placing them in the chair beside him. Careen did the same, watching as Petyr Baelish was at a loss for words for once in his life.

"Your Grace, I gave my fealty and allegiance to House Stark and the North. I do so knowing I cut all ties to the South and House Lannister. They will have my head for going with you and declaring you King in the North. I owe so much to Lady Sansa and to her mother. I will forever be in her debt," the words were coated with fake platitudes, all of them meaningless to Jon.

Jon placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, letting his fingers grip it as he mulled over his words. "I accept your fealty and will look to you when called upon. As for my sister, she asked for me to come to Greyfork to meet with her. She wishes to marry Lord Killian of House Finn and I've agreed to the union. I told you once before, I will not make a match for Sansa without her approval. You know all too well what making a match without knowing the man can bring. Sansa is dear to me and I've sworn to protect her with my life… don't challenge my oath."

Lord Baelish's face looked like a bull ready to charge as he glowered at Jon, his nostrils flaring and his eyes narrowing. "Don't challenge me, Bastard King."

Careen lost all composure as she walked swiftly over to the Lord and smacked him across the face. The brief contact with him awoke the Divine in her, sending chills down her arm that left her skin numb. A foul odor filled her nose and a bitter taste lingered on her tongue. She'd smelled poisons in her Maester's room when she was younger and the smell and taste hitting her now was very much like that. He was a snake, a venomous one that had dealt a death blow to many a man. She couldn't shake the feeling that Petyr had betrayed someone close to her and caused harm to the Starks before. She pulled her hand back, holding it to her chest as if it hurt her.

Jon took her hand, kissing her red palm. He looked back at Petyr as Davos stepped up behind him. "You aren't in King's Landing anymore, my lord. You have no friends here, none that will come to your aid if the North turns against you. You will stay quite while I talk with Lord Robyn. When Sansa's arrives with Lord Killian, you will not go to her or ask her to see you, unless you like the taste of Valyrian steel."

"Are you threatening me, your grace," Petyr looked over his shoulder at Davos as he rubbed the swollen handprint on his face.

"I never threaten, Lord Baelish. You'd do well to remind that," Jon turned to walk away when Petyr took one more jab at him.

"I remember more than you know, your grace. I remember how Catelyn Stark cried when Ned brought you back with him after the war, his bastard son with a wet nurse. I remember how honorable your father was and how is honor got him killed. I remember how Cersei Lannister called for Lady Sansa's head and how I saved her. Was I wrong to bring her to Winterfell and marry her to Ramsay, perhaps, but I promised her Winterfell and she has it," the confidence in his words made him sound more pompous than usual. Jon placed his arm around his wife's waist and nodded his head.

"I – all those things are true, I don't deny them. I think you're forgetting one thing. I am King in the North… made so by all the Lords of the North. The North remembers, a Stark remembers and Sansa remembers. She is not your prize and it's not my steel you'll taste… it's hers," Jon walked out as Lady Brienne walked in, her sword in her hand.

Jon sent Careen to get her hand looked at, sending her to the Maseter's quarters. She tried to tell him she was fine, but he insisted. She was so proud of him for standing up to Petyr Baelish, even though his actions might lose him any aid from The Vale in the future.

Sansa came rushing in with Killian by her side. She saw how swollen Careen's hand was and walked with her to see the Maester. Killian joined Jon in the Great Hall with Lord Robyn, hoping to gain the Eyrie as a friend of House Finn. Petyr was by all rights, Robyn's father and his influence on the young Lord was as tight as a noose. Perhaps with some bargaining, that noose could be loosened just a bit.

The Maester looked up from his books when Sansa and Careen walked in. He waved for them to have a seat, while he put away his things. Her hand was swollen and her wrist ached, but it was worth it to see the look on that heartless cowards face.

"What happened?" Sansa asked and Careen told her, giving her a brief description. Sansa already knew how manipulative and deceitful Lord Baelish could be, she didn't need to hear all the things he said to Jon.

As the Maester moved Careen's hand, she winced a little as she held her breath. The pain wasn't that bad, but it still hurt. "You haven't broken anything, but you've bruised your hand. Keep it still as much as possible and try not to use it. I will look in on you later, your grace."

Careen thanked the Maester and held still as he wrapped her wrist up to her fingers. She knew once Jon saw it, he'd lose his temper. Sansa sat there fighting back a giggle, her grin pressing hard on her lips.

"I can't believe you hit him. How very lady like of you, Queen Careen. If I didn't know better, I would think you enjoyed it. I should have done that myself, just once," the two of them tried not to laugh as the Maester looked at them with a steely stare.

"Maybe you should have, but we need the Eyrie and the only connection the North as to it is through you. I have a feeling Lord Baelish would rather have you as Queen in the North from the way he looked at you that night. How does the North keep The Vale at their call and keep Littlefinger at arm's length?" Careen held her hand to her chest as she and Sansa made their way back to the Great Hall. Sansa had this look in her eyes that let Careen know she was devising a way to handle Petyr.

The snow was starting to swirl around in the strong wind, the clouds above turning a dark gray. A storm was coming, but the storm that was brewing in the Great Hall was far worse. When Sansa and Careen walked in, they could hear raised voices. Killian's voice was like a clap of thunder as it rang through the large room.

"You aren't in the Eyrie, my lord and I don't give a fuck what you want. This is the North and here in the North we value honor and a man's word. I can take your word and wipe my ass with it, that's all it's really worth," Killian looked at Sansa when she and Careen walked in and Jon instantly took notice of his wife's injured hand.

The Ladies of Winterfell exited the room, deciding to wait outside. The voices inside quieted down, the shouting coming to a halt. The storm outside picked up as the wind made an eerie sound, sending a chill over Careen.

The young girl that was Lady Margaret's handmaiden came racing by, her face as white as the snow outside. Careen reached out, taking the girl by the arm and turning her around.

"Stop, my child. What's wrong?" the young girl looked at her as she took in a large breath.

"Lady Finn… the baby is coming… now," each word came out with a labored breath. Careen told her to go back to her Lady and tend to her and she could bring David to their room.

Careen gathered herself and sent Sansa back with the handmaiden as she walked in the room and made her way over to David. Every eye was on her as she walked up to her cousin, leaned in close to whisper in his ear. When the news of his wife passed her lips, David jolted from his seat and raced to the main house. Jon and the others looked at Careen, all of them waiting for her to tell them what was going on.

"Tonight, my lords, Lord David becomes a father," she smiled over to her husband and left the room, looking over her shoulder to see Jon right behind her.

~.~

David paced like a caged animal. Every scream, every sound of anguish was more than he could bear. Jon, Killian, Sansa and Careen waited with him while the party from the Vale bedded down for the night. The storm was raging on outside, the snow starting to pile up. This would be a long night for everyone, especially the parents to be.

The long night went on with Maester sending for more hot water and asking Lady Sansa and Careen to aid him and Theresa, the handmaiden. Jon and Killian took David to the sitting room of the main house for a horn of ale, trying to ease his mind. The baby may not be born till morning and the Lords nerves were starting to show.

Careen had never seen a baby be born before, but she'd been in Greyfork when her mother's sister gave birth to her only child. Her mother sheltered her from the truth of childbirth, but here it was in vivid color. Her own child would come and when he did, she hoped Sansa and Maester Wendull were as calm and collect that day as this Maester was now.

Jon passed the horn of ale to David, watching as his trembling hands spilled half of it. "I'm sorry, your grace."

"It's fine, my lord. Drink up and know your wife is in good hands," Jon couldn't help but feel a little antsy himself. When Careen's time came, he knew he'd be in David's shoes and he could only hope to be that composed.

Killian smacked David's back as he plopped down in the seat beside him. "So, what will you name the new Lord or Lady of Greyfork?"

"I should be asking you when the wedding is, cousin. Lord Baelish isn't too happy about the upcoming nuptials," David swallowed the last of the ale and handed his cup back to Jon. The King quickly filled it and passed it back with a bit of advice.

"Go easy. If you show up drunk to your wife's bedside, you may never sleep with her again," Jon poured himself a horn as he smiled back at Killian.

"None of us will ever lay next to a naked woman again if we drink too much. Sansa is young in age, but older in her maturity. I don't think there is a woman in the North with her beauty and her grace… expect my sister, of course," Killian was quick to toss that last part in, not because he wanted to impress the King, but because his sister was a rare beauty and probably more woman than Jon Snow could handle. The stories of his Wildling lover had reached far in the North, but Killian knew his sister was raised a Lady but she had moments where she acted like anything but.

Back in the Lord's bed chamber, Margaret was gripping Careen's hand tightly as she pushed as hard as she could. The Maester had Sansa hand him a bottle of oil that he applied around the crown of the baby's head. Margaret let out a muffled scream as she pursed her lips into a hard thin line.

Sansa looked up at Careen when she saw the head emerge. Margaret was already tired and the labor pains were starting to take their toll. "You're doing very well, my lady," the Maester commented as he reached for the strips of cloths to dab up the bit of blood.

Margaret leaned on Careen, needed her strength to help her push again. Careen wrapped her right arm around her and held her up, feeling the fingers on her left hand starting to go numb. Lady Finn's face turned a bright red as she bared down and Careen could feel her pain, the pressure between her legs, the agony when she ripped from the shoulders passing. They were one in that moment, each woman feeding off the energy of the other.

The winter storm had calmed as the new little lord took his first breath. Margaret smiled back at Careen, the sweat on her brow making her hair cling to her face. The Maester cleaned the babe off and wrapped him up. As he placed him in his mother's arms, there wasn't a dry eye to be found.

Careen couldn't wait for this moment, for Jon to hold his son and see the sweet face of her little one. She wiped the sweat from Margaret's forehead before kissing her newest cousin's little cheek. "I'll go tell David, you rest."

Sansa sat on the edge of the bed looking at the little baby boy and suddenly wondered what it would be like to have a child with Killian Finn.

The Queen's hands rested on her belly as she walked down the stairs. She was greeted by Petyr Baelish when she reached the bottom. "Lord Finn has an heir, I take it."

"He does, a fine, healthy boy," Careen moved to walk around Baelish when he gripped the top of her arm and pulled her close to him.

"I hope Lord Reed can meet with the Queen from across the Narrow Sea before my councilor can. I would hate for her to back me instead of the North," he released her, but what he got in return wasn't a shaken or rattled Queen. What he saw was a woman with fire in her eyes and no Queenly manners to be found.

"Lord Reed and what he's doing or who he's meeting are really none of your damn concern… my lord. What is your concern, is keeping your neck the way it is. We hang murder's and traitors in the North," she was about to tell Petyr to go fuck himself when Lord Robyn came running around the corner.

"Uncle Petyr… can I see the baby?" Petyr smiled back at the Lord of the Vale and promised him soon.

Careen walked over to him, cupping her hand on his cheek. "I remember your father. You look so much like him. Lord Jon Arryn was a loyal and good man. He was a friend of my fathers and I'm sure we can be friends as well. As Warden of the East, my lord, we in the North will always be a friend and ally, as I'm sure you'll be there for us in our time of need."

"You're pretty. I like your hair… it looks like ribbons of fire. Uncle said you're the Queen in the North. I wanted Lady Sansa to be my Queen… her hair is pretty like yours. I don't like your brother, he took my Queen and I think if he ever comes to the East… I will make him fly," the young man spoke like a child and had a childlike quality about him. It was obvious to Careen Lord Robyn was clay in Petyr's hands and he was molding him to be a ruthless monster.

"I'm sorry, my lord. You are welcome at Winterfell anytime. Your cousin as well as the King are grateful for the aid from the Vale. Did your Uncle tell you he came to Lady Sansa's because he traded her to the Bolton's and married her off to Ramsay Bolton? No… did that slip is mind?" Careen gave Littlefinger a sly smile as she passed by him, listening to Sweet Robyn question his Uncle about the Sansa.

With her hands on the sitting room door, she put Petyr Baelish out of her mind and placed a wide smile on for her cousin. The three men jumped to their feet as she entered, David looking like he was about to burst into a thousand pieces.

"How is my wife… the child?" David asked in one quick breath.

"Margaret is resting and she's doing fine. You have a son, my lord. He has dark hair like his mother and handsome features like his father. They are both waiting for you," Careen gave him a hug as she kissed his cheek. David hugged her back and raced out of the room and up the stairs to his family.

Jon took his bride in his arms, her body crumbling against him. "I'm beyond tired, my love. Take me to bed, please."

He lifted her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs where he pushed opened her bed chamber door and placed her on the bed. Jon refused to let her move as he unlaced her dress, helping her out of it and slipped her bed gown over her head. Every inch of skin that was bare before him made him ache, made the tight coil in the pit of his belly twist into hard knots. He thirsted for her, hungered for her, but she was too tired to do anything but sleep. He slipped off his clothing, leaving his pants on and climb on the bed beside her. As soon as Careen was tucked in his arms, she was fast asleep.

Jon kissed her forehead as his fingertips traveled lazily up and down her arm. "Sleep well, my dear… sleep well and have peaceful dreams."

Many thanks for your continued support. Many more thanks for all the reviews.

We'll be heading back to Winterfell soon, but not before Careen gets Jon under the Kissing Tree.

*If you have any requests or thoughts about where you liked to see this fic go, please drop me a PM or ask me in a review - as always - thank you*