A/N: I want to give a large thank you to CLTex - bfireworks5 and Boramir for the reviews. I can never thank you enough for inspiring me and giving me the push I need to write.
The ride back to Winterfell, under ideal conditions, would have taken half a day, but Killian did it before the sun had even started to slide behind the mountain tops. Careen was turning this sickly white and the moans that escaped her pale lips caused him to fear the worse.
"Hang on just a little longer, little flame," Killian said as the gates swung open. He yelled for one of the guards to get Maester Wendull and bring him to the Queen's room. Killian held to Careen as he dismounted his horse and lowered her down into his arms.
Tormund heard the ruckus and hurried to the courtyard. When he laid eyes on Careen, he was certain they had found trouble at Greyfork. "Killian, what happened?"
"The bitch Queen that sits on the Iron Throne sent a girl with poison to kill Careen," Killian said as he rushed up the stairs, feeling how hot her forehead was when it touched his neck.
Tormund threw open the chamber room door and Killian placed Careen on her bed. She groaned as Killian laid her down, her hands cradling the baby she was carrying.
"Careen, my sweet little sister... I'm sorry I didn't protect you," Killian kissed her cheek, wishing there was more he could do.
Maester Wendull came in with Allan by his side. "What happened?"
"I think she was poisoned," Killian said quickly, watching as the Maester examined his sister. He opened her eyes, then her mouth and moved his hands over her protruding belly. When he slid his hand under Careen's dress, Killian turned his head and motioned for Tormund to turn as well.
"I can find no evidence of poison or injury," Masester Wendull said as he rose from the bed, finding the Queen's symptoms very bewildering.
Careen reached her small hand out to Killian, her face twisting as another ripple of pain went through her body. "Brother..."
He took her hand, holding it to his chest as he sat down beside her. "I'm here, Careen," he whispered to her as his hand stroked her sweat soaked hair from her forehead. He looked up at the Maester as her hand squeezed his tighter. "Help her... she's going to lose the child if you don't."
Maester Wendull sent Allan back to his room to gather some herbs, telling the boy to hurry. Tormund knelt down by the bed, looking hard at the black streaks crawling up Careen's neck. He pulled her gown off her shoulder, gaining a gasp from the Maester. The black streaks were all over her shoulder and arm, looking like the blood in her veins were turning black.
"I've seen this before. A woman in my clan had healing powers. She could lay her hands on you and take in your sickness. She would give the sickness back to the air or the dirt it came from. Old Freda was connected to nature and it to her, but one night she took too much in and it made her sick. She tried to give it back to the dirt, tried resting her hands on the ground. The ground turned black, the flowers and trees around her died and then she died. Her mother said a sickness not of nature can't be given back," Tormund looked up at Killian as her veins grew darker.
"The Kissing Tree... it was dying when I left. The poison must have seeped into the ground. I always thought the Divine in her came from the Heart Tree, but it must come from the Kissing Tree," Killian rested his hand on her cheek, looking into her blue eyes as she stared back at him.
The pain in her belly was matched by the pain in her back. She prayed the Old Gods would hear her plea and allow her to keep her child. She tried to focus on anything but the pain and the fear that was gripping her now. Careen closed her eyes and whispered Jon's name, wanting his arms around her so very badly.
Allan returned with the herbs, but Maester Wendull knew they would be of little use. He made a tea for Careen to drink to help with her pain and returned to his room to read through his books for a possible cure for the Queen.
The tea did help with the pain, but Careen could feel herself slipping away. She was burning hot to touch, but she shivered as if she were out in the bitter cold. Killian built a fire, wrapped her up in fur blankets and held her as she sipped on the cup of tea.
Tormund went to the Wildling camp to find one of the old healers. He thought maybe she would have an answer or could possibly heal Jon Snow's bride. He rode through the night, the wind blowing in a storm as he approached the fires of the camp. A tall, thin man with hair as red as his greeted him, shook his hand and asked him why he had traveled in the dark of night with the storm coming in. Tormund explained what had happened to Jon's bride and asked if he could see the healer.
He was taken to a tent made of animal skin and branches with a small fire built in the middle and a rabbit roasting over it. The old women stepped out, a necklace of bones around her neck and dress of stag skin draped over her thin, frail body. "Sit and tell me what you need of me," she spoke with a soft voice, her wrinkled face and silver hair being illuminated by the glow of the fire.
"The Queen is sick and we need a cure," Tormund spoke up, his voice booming through the tent. The old woman held up her hand, giving him back a cheeky smile.
"The Queen in the North is blessed. She is gifted with great power and she alone carries what is left of the Old Magic inside her. If she is ill, she will heal..." the old woman spoke, but Tormund interrupted her, needing to inform her that it was not a natural sickness. He told her of the tree that grew outside the walls of Greyfork and how the poison that was meant for the Queen, was killing the tree instead. The old woman looked into the fire, her eyes darting around as the flames flickered their shadows on the tent walls.
"The poison that was used, does it leave a black mark in the Queen's veins?" the healer asked as she pulled a stick from the fire, using the burnt end to draw on the dirt floor. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she drew, the stick moving swiftly. When she was done, the image of a tree that resembled the Kissing Tree was carved in the dirt. "The roots carry the Old Magic, the magic she is connected to. I have felt the magic grow and the child she carries will be strong with it. Only a dragon's tears can heal her now. The poison is a venomous tar that can kill the strongest man, taken from the dead heart of a dragon," she looked at Tormund with a steely glare, her eyes narrowing in on him. "When the tree dies, she will die unless you find the tears."
Tormund left the camp with more questions than answers. He rode back to Winterfell with the wind at his back and the horse doing its best to push through the snow. As he rode into the stables, he was greeted by Bran and Meera Reed.
"Tormund, she's getting worse. Did you get a cure at the Free Folk camp?" Bran rung his hands as Meera helped him set up.
"No, I'm sorry. The old healer only had riddles to tell me," he hung his head as he patted the horses back. Bran's lips turned up in a smile, wondering what riddle the old healer had told him. Tormund saw his smile and wondered of the young Stark might be able to solve the riddle for him. He told him what the healer said, what the poison was and that it would take dragon tears to cure Careen. Bran asked Meera to take him to the Godswood, to the weirwood tree.
"I'll take the boy, you go help Killian with Careen," Tormund picked Bran up, tossing him over his shoulder. Bran let out a groan, feeling like a sack of flour being carried to the mill.
Meera hurried back to Killian only to find Careen balled up on the floor, screaming in pain. Killian was stroking her back as tears filled his eyes. "Meera... any news from Tormund?"
"Nothing that will help," Meera said as she took the herbs on the hearth and brewed more tea. Careen looked up at Killian through her teary eyes and took several sharp breaths.
"Tell Jon I tried..." she closed her eyes and Killian scooped her up in his arms, screaming for her to open her eyes again. Meera raced out of the room, coming back with an arm full of snow. She began to pack the snow down Careen's dress, causing her to let out a tiny squeal.
"Her fever isn't coming down. We need to pack her in snow," Meera said as Killian picked Careen up and carried her outside. They walked until they came to the Sept where the snow had drifted up. Killian took her inside, laying his sister on his cloak. Meera gathered arm full after arm full of snow, packing it on and around Careen until she her teeth were chattering.
"Killian... enough... snow," Careen managed to stammer out and Killian laughed as he kissed her forehead.
"That's my little flame. We have to keep your fever down and you need to rest. We'll stay here a little longer, sleep," He sat on the floor, placing her head in his lap. Meera gathered more snow before she went to the Godswood to find Bran.
Bran was sitting at the Heart Tree, his large hand on the weirwood with his eyes the pure white she'd grown accustom to. Tormund sat on the stump, looking up at the moon, with the direwolves at his feet. Ghost walked up to Meera as Scorch whimper loudly. She rubbed the pup between the ears when she saw Bran come back to himself.
"Bran?" Meera said and the direwolves turned to him as well.
"I saw Aegon Targaryen scoop out the insides of his dead dragon's heart and place it in a bottle. He placed it in the floor of the Red Keep. I never saw him collect dragon tears, if they are the cure, then he didn't care to keep them. The Maester at King's Landing has been known to use unnatural ways and he must have found the dragon poison and means to use some it on the Dragon Queen. We have to find a cure, but I don't know if we can," Bran felt his disappointment settle in his heart. He was sure he could find the answers by traveling back, by seeing the past through his eyes.
"We will, we just need to keep Careen alive long enough to find it," Meera took Bran's hand and he gave her the oddest look back. He had this smirk that looked too gleeful for the current circumstances they found themselves in. "What is that look for?" she asked, but he declined to tell her. Bran asked Tormund to take him to see Careen and Meera told them Killian had her in the Sept.
Killian looked up when the light from the torches filtered through the open door of the Sept. Tormund walked in carrying Bran with Meera right behind them. "She's asleep, for now. The child, he's moving quite a bit. I've felt him move and kick, as if he's restless. Jon should be here; he should be holding her instead of me."
"He will be soon, but I need to speak to Careen. I hate to wake her, but it's very important... and I need to talk to her alone," Bran looked at the three people looking back at him and raised his eyebrows. He could very commanding when he wanted, much like his father before him.
"She needs her rest, but I'll give you a moment," Killian woke Careen before he rose to his feet. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and walked out the room with Tormund and Meera.
"Bran... did you find the cure?" she asked with hope clinging to her words.
"I did or I hope I have. Tormund talked to a Wildling healer and she said the only cure was tears of a dragon. I don't think she means an actual dragon, but tears of the bloodline of the dragon. Jon is part Targaryen and I believe it's his tears that will cure you," Bran sat close to her, holding her hand as her pain returned.
"Bran... I heard Melisandre in my head... I heard her say when the tree dies, I'll die. We have to save the Kissing Tree," Careen tried to sit up, but the pain surging up her back was too much.
"Saving you will save the tree. The Old Magic that lives in the Kissing Tree is what is dying, not the tree. We just need Jon's tears to save you both," Bran gave her a hug and she hugged him back with the hope her husband would be back to Winterfell before the tree withered away.
~.~
They had ridden hard for weeks and Jon was being very offish. He kept to himself and spoke little unless spoken to. Even Arya had a hard time getting him to talk and she could see a change in the brother she loved so dearly. The ride to Moat Cailin had been rough, the winter storms and bitter cold nights making the trip unbearable at times. It had been two weeks since they left Moat Cailin and three weeks since they left the crossroads and Jon's disposition was growing more bitter by the day.
Arya walked into his tent as they made camp for the night, having enough of his sour mood. Jon looked up from his horn of ale, letting his brown eyes get a good look at the displeased look on his little sister's face. She sat down beside him, took his ale and toss it on the ground.
"I know you're worried about Careen and from what Sansa tells me about her, I know she's strong and brave and a true Queen of the North. You need to stop beating yourself up for leaving her. The plan to kill her would have been carried out even if you were there. We can't be far behind the caravan and when we find this girl... I'll kill her myself. I'm good with my sword, my Needle and I've learned a thing or two since last you saw me. It's alright to let your sisters carry some of the burden, Jon," Arya took his hand and he held hers back, giving her a small smile in return.
"Arya... get Sansa... there's something I need to tell both of you," Jon was ready to confess his secret and let the burden of it finally fall free from his shoulders. Arya picked up the horn and poured it full of ale again before she left to gather her sister.
Sansa returned with Arya, the two of them sitting down at the small table at the back of the tent. Jon finished off the ale, trying to find the words to tell his sisters they weren't really his sisters.
"Whatever it is Jon... we are here for you," Sansa reached across the table and took his hand, making the words stick in his throat.
"I know the truth of who I am," he said in a low tone, his eyes darting between the two lady's before him.
"You found your mother?" Sansa said with a smile and a joyful note in her voice.
"I didn't find my mother, but I know who she was. Bran is a Warg... you know this Sansa, but Arya doesn't," Jon sat back, letting go of Sansa's hand. Arya looked at him, letting him know Sansa had caught her up on the current events with their family.
"I know, Jon... carry on," Arya sat back, crossing her arms over her chest, doing her best to give Jon some support.
"Bran saw my mother, saw our father with her the day of my birth... saw him kneel down next to her bed, covered in blood as she died," he paused for a moment, seeing how captivated his sisters were with his story. He hoped they still loved him after this and that the North didn't turn him out.
"Your mother, she was a Southern Lady?" Arya asked, wondering if Jon looked like her or their father.
"No, she was of the North, of Winterfell," Jon said and both of the girls gave him a confused stare.
"Who? Was she of low birth? Did our mother know her?" Sansa asked, her curiosity stirring up more questions.
"She might have known her, I'm not sure, but my mother was a high born Lady of Winterfell," Jon took a deep breath before he continued, trying to be more clear with his meaning this time. "I'm not a Stark..." he began again and both Sansa and Arya shouted the he was a Stark, back at him.
"You are... you always will be and the North sees you as a Stark. Stop saying that Jon," Sansa said as she held Arya's hand. They both nodded back at him, but he was about to shatter their world.
"My mother was a Stark... Lyanna Stark and my father was Rhaegar Targaryen. My mother made her brother, your father, promised to keep the truth of my birth a secret in fear Robert Baratheon would kill me. You see, I'm not a Stark and Lord Eddard Stark's blood doesn't run through my veins," he stood and began to walk out of the tent when Arya took his hand, holding tight to him.
"You are a Stark. Lyanna Stark's son and Nephew of Eddard Stark, who raised you as his son and loved you like a son. Father loved his sister as fiercely as I love you, Jon Snow... and nothing... not even being fathered by a Targaryen will ever change that," Arya tossed her arms around him, hugging his so hard it was hard to breath.
Sansa stood there looking at him, her eyes locked on his face as if she were looking at him for the first time. "Sansa?"
She walked over to him, cupping his scruffy cheek with her hand and smile tenderly back at him. "You are blood of my blood, not brother born, but brother made. You fought for our home, bleed for our home and would die for your home. You are King in the North and should rightfully be King of Westeros."
"I don't want to be King of Westeros; I don't want to be King of anything. I just want to love my wife and live peacefully with my family... all of my family," he pulled Sansa into his arms, hugging both of the girls he knew as a sister.
"We need you to be King," Sansa said and Arya nodded her head back at him. He let out a stiff chuckle, wondering what the two of them were up to.
"Why?" he asked as he released them, seeing the coy smile on both their faces.
"The North needs you and we need you and when the times comes, the South will need you. You have to meet the Targaryen girl now, tell her the truth and take the South back from the Lannister's. When she is Queen, we can rule the North in peace," Arya looked up at him, seeing not a Targaryen, but the curly hair boy that would sneak bows and arrows out of the armory for her to shoot, that had a sword made for her and that loved her beyond believe.
He took his sister's hand, looking at the two of them as the brave, beautiful young women they had grown into and wondered how he got so lucky. They were his family and with Bran, Careen and their child, he would make sure the North stayed strong. For the first time in a long time, he felt as if they could make it out of the long night and face the Night King victorious.
The girls left his tent, letting him turn in for the night. He laid down, resting his head on his arm as he thought of Careen. He would get to her in time, he would save her and their child and if he had to travel the Seven Hell's to do it, he could keep her safe.
Jon woke the next morning determined to get to Winterfell. He asked Ryder to join him on the two-day ride, knowing they would only stop to eat and tend to the horses. There would be no rest, no sleep until he had his bride in his arms again. Ryder agreed and readied their horses as Jon gave Sansa and Arya hug.
"I'll see you soon and when we are all together again, Winterfell will rejoice," Jon kissed them both on the forehead before mounting his horse and riding off with Ryder Reed by his side.
The sun rose and set twice as they pushed their horses towards the gates of Winterfell. Jon's heart nearly stopped when he saw a small plume of black smoke rising from Greyfork. Ryder nudged his horse to go faster, he and Jon stopping at what was left of the mighty oak gates.
"Lord Finn!" Jon shouted, getting nothing back in reply. Ryder ran inside, shouting for anyone to respond. Jon walked around the corner of the east wall and to his surprise, found Podrick Payne digging a hole. "Podrick?"
"Your Grace... you must get to Winterfell... the Queen is very ill," Podrick tossed the shovel down as he turned to his King. Jon raced back to his horse, shouting for Ryder to join him. They mounted their horses quickly and sprinted up the King's Road.
Tormund was up on the battlements when Jon approached. He ordered the doors opened for the King and the guards moved in a flash as Jon and Ryder rode inside. Jon dismounted his horse before it had come to a full stop, his feet sliding in the snow as he looked up to the battlements at Tormund. He pointed to the Sept and Jon ran full out towards the seven-sided building.
He tossed open the door to find Careen laying on a bed of snow with Bran by her side. "Careen, I'm here my Queen."
Jon fell to his knees, scooping her up in his arms. The tea Meera had made her had lulled her into a painless sleep and she lay lax in Jon's arms. Bran scooted back, watching as Jon cradled Careen in his arms, his hand stroking her sweat soaked hair.
"She's been poisoned Jon and the Maester can't find a cure," Bran knew there was a cure, one that would only be found in Jon's sadness.
"No... she can't die," Jon held her in his arms, gazed down on her pale face and noticed the very large bump rounding out her dress. He placed his hands there, feeling their child moving. His eyes flicked up to Bran, who was smiling back at him.
"Your son is a fighter, but Careen can't hold out much longer," Bran placed his hand on Careen's leg, letting his brown eyes mist over with tears.
Jon bent his head down, letting his forehead touch his brides. His large hand continued to stroke her round belly as his tears began to trickle from his eyes. "I've failed you, I've failed our son and I'm so sorry... my love. You are the sun that warms my winter, you are the moon that lights the darkness and I give you my heart now and forever."
He kissed her lips, laying her down and move to her belly where he placed his hands on each side and kissed the top of her roundness. "I may never get to hold you, my little one... but know I love you."
Careen stirred away, her blue eyes not as bright as he remembered. "Jon," she called out to him in a low, weak voice. He lay on the floor next to her, cupping her cheek and gazing back at her. She reached over and wiped away his tears, giving him a tiny smile. "I love you... forever."
Jon pulled her to him, kissing her lips as his tears fell on her face. She ran her hand through his hair, holding him to her. She could feel the heat that ravished her body start to dissipate, her lungs finding it easier to take in air as the blackness in her veins began to recede. Careen was coming back to life, her body braking free of the pain, of the anguish she had been laboring. It was as if the cloak of death itself had been lifted from her body and a gown of rebirth placed upon her.
She moved her hand from his hair, letting her fingers trail down his neck. He opened his teary brown eyes to see not the pale beauty he expected, but the flame of Greyfork was burning bright in his arms. A smile so big and wide that it nearly swallowed his face shined back at her. Jon rose up, lifting Careen in his arms, feeling her belly pushing against him. Her small hand moved over his face, collecting the last of his tears. The look of joy on his face, in his eyes made him the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
Killian came running in when he saw Ryder in the courtyard. He stopped when he saw Jon holding Careen and he heard her giggle. "Little flame... you're well again."
"I am, my sweet Killian... and my Jon is home," she said, never letting her eyes leave her husband's handsome face.
~.~
The months since Greyfork burnt and Lord Baelish had perished at the hand of Lord Robin were long, cold ones. The Wall was starting to show signs of fatigue, sections of it cracking while other parts crumbled. Careen begged Jon to let her go North and help Tormund with The Wall. She had become stronger with Bran's help and the Old Magic that lived in her grew stronger by the day. Jon wasn't about to let her out of his sight and since he'd returned, he hadn't.
When Sansa and Arya made it back to Winterfell, a great feast was held and much merriment was made. Arya took an instant liking to Careen, the two of them spending hours talking. Arya trained every day and spend her evenings with Careen, reading or telling her stories of Braavos. Bran could tell how much his sister had changed, had seen what the Faceless Man had put her through. They never spoke of it, but Bran and Arya had an understanding. She had a mission to complete and when Jon traveled South to finally meet with Daenerys, she was going with him.
Jon had become antsy in the last few days. Maester Wendull was sure the child would come soon, even though it had only been eight months since they were wed. Her belly had grown so large she could barely move and spent most of the day either in bed or sitting by the fire.
Careen told Jon her dreams, the ones of the sandy beach and the dragonglass and the one of the Wall and Aedan Finn. Jon sent Davos and Ryder to Dragonstone to meet with Daenerys and retrieve some of the dragonglass for the North. The war of the South was on the verge of erupting and Cersei Lannister wasn't beyond using the dragon heart poison or the Wildfire she had in her possession. The Mother of Dragons had taken back the Iron Islands for Yara and Theon Greyjoy, but their Uncle Euron had proclaimed his ships and his fealty to the Queen in the South. The North was making ready for a battle on both fronts. The Night King could breach The Wall soon and the Lannister Army could be at their door, demanding their loyalty for Cersei. Jon had much to consider and many lives in his hand. Sansa and Killian ran Winterfell, leaving Jon to see to his men, tend to the North and care for his wife. He was grateful for his family and friends and needed to be the man they looked up to and depended on.
Jon had received a Raven from Samwell that he, Gilly and little Sam were going to travel back to the North soon and for him to take care of his family sword. He would collect more Valyrian steel on his way North and hoped the knowledge he gained would be of use to Jon. Careen looked forward to meeting Samwell and kept his sword in their chambers. The Old Magic in the blade as well as Longclaw sang to her when she touched it. She could feel the power in the metal, let her magic collide with it to strengthen her own.
Meera brought Bran to Careen for their morning training session when Jon came in with Ghost and Scorch on his heels. "Not today, my love. Why don't you go to the Great Hall or the Library? You've been cooped up in this room for far too long."
"I agree, but as you can see, dear husband, I can barely walk," Careen motioned to her large belly and Jon bent down on one knee to place a tender kiss there. He stroked her belly as he spoke to the child, he couldn't wait to hold.
"Be a good boy and don't kick your mother too hard today," he said with a playful wink.
"Where are you going?" Careen said with a wifely tone. Jon stood, scooped her up in his strong arms and walked out towards the Great Hall with the direwolves behind them. Bran and Meera followed as well, Bran doing is best to help Meera bare his weight.
"I have to go to Winter Town with Killian. There's been a ban of raiders pillaging the food sheds and I have to put a stop to it. I'll be back before nightfall, wife," Jon loved saying that word, loving hold her in his arms and loved seeing the bright blue of her sapphire eyes and the pink tint of her creamy cheeks.
Sansa stood when they walked into the Great Hall. She had a sewing loom in her lap and one on the floor. Arya didn't like to sew, so Careen often joined her. They were making a blanket for the Prince of Winterfell, even though they both knew the truth. Jon was a Targaryen by birth, but a Stark by blood and that's all that matter to those that loved him.
"The blanket will be ready soon, Careen. The sigil lacks just a few more pieces," Sansa said as she sat back down, handing Careen her loom when Jon placed her in the chair. He gave her one more kiss before he joined Killian at the stables. Allan took the wolves to feed them and Bran joined Howland and Meera at a table to discuss the move of the Wildling clan to the Neck.
"When might you and my brother have a little one?" Careen asked, making Sansa blush a bright red.
"When the Gods grant us one," she answered back swiftly, not really ready to be a mother yet.
"Killian will be an excellent father," Careen said with a grin, hoping the day came sooner than later.
"He will be, but I fear for our future. The South beats the drum of war, the Night King claws at the ice wall and we rest in the middle of it all. When the great war comes and the dead come for us, can we survive. Will the South rise with us or perish beside us? Jon has pleaded with the South, but they ignore him. Careen... I received a Raven from Ser Jamie Lannister. He wants an audience with Jon. What do you think?" Sansa looked back down at her sewing loom, feeling the heat of Careen's stare.
"You promised to never keep a secret from Jon, yet here we are. Sansa... you must tell him immediately and let him decide. There has to be a reason Ser Jamie reached out to you... why?" Careen stared back at her in disbelief, wondering what else Sansa was keeping from Jon.
"He wrote to Lady Brienne and asked for an audience with both Jon and I. I received it yesterday and haven't had the time to speak with Jon. Don't doubt my loyalty to my brother," Sansa said sternly, placing her loom in her lap.
"I don't and I'm sorry, Sansa. Forgive me," Careen took Sansa's hand, looking her in the eyes. She had worried that Jon's secret would sooner or later put a wedge between him and the family he was raised with. They were unfounded fears and Sansa was quick to tell her so. She loved Jon and adored Careen, they were sisters by marriage and forever bound to each other.
They sat by the fire, stitching on the blanket as the business of the day carried on around them. It was close to noon before they finished the last stitch and decided to get something to eat. Sansa took both loom and placed it with the sewing materials as she helped Careen rise from the chair. She placed her hand on Careen's large belly, feeling for the baby.
"You look big enough to pop," Sansa said with a giggle as Careen placed her hands on her back. The Queen rose gingerly to feet when a warm gush of water soaked her legs and splatted on the floor. Careen looked down at the floor as a hard cramp rolled over her abdomen.
"Sansa... it's time," Careen said as she shuffled her feet towards the doorway. Sanaa yelled for Meera to get Maester Wendell as she helped Careen into her room. Tormund was returning from The Wall when he saw Careen walking out of the Hall and towards the East Wing of the Keep.
"Tormund... a little help please," Sansa waved for him to come to them, telling the tall ginger that the Queen was about to give birth. He took Careen to her room, grinning wildly back at her.
Careen breathed through the pain, trying to brace each contraction as they came. "What are you grinning at?"
"The White Wolf is about to get a pup," Tormund said, giving Careen a wide smile. He placed her on the bed, giving her a Wildling blessing before he walked away. Careen called out to him, asking him to go to Winter Town and tell Jon the baby was coming. He turned to her, telling her what he found in the deep North. "The Wall still holds and the men Jon sent to Castle Black are fighting off the dead. I talked to Benjen before I left for Winterfell. The Wall needs Old Magic... it needs you. I will take you, when you are ready."
She gripped the fur blanket beneath her, baring another pain. Her smile was mixed with her discomfort, but she knew after her son was born, she had to make it to The Wall if she hoped to keep her child and those she loved from the icy grip of the death that the Night King would surely deliver.