Time crawled. It was as if it had been laden with enough weight, just as Dany felt for herself, to hinder its pace. Every time someone spoke to Dany, be it Jon or Willa or Kolla or even Tormund, their line was, "Any day now! Any day now!" And yet "any day now" had not made an appearance. Each hour of existence crept by without a sign that the baby was ready to greet the world. Dany continued to have irregular contractions, each marked with a short jolt of her heart and then a sigh when they felt the same as last time. It left her exhausted.

Had it been two weeks? A week of this? No, only two days. Jon's suggestion the other night that she would have work to do that morning had not come to pass. In fact, nothing had changed from then except that their household was now minus one member. Willa and Tormund had taken Rose in for the time being to give her parents time to rest. Rose still came with Willa every day, but for the most part the days were now devoid of distraction, and Dany missed it no matter how tired she was.

Aching particularly strongly, since Willa had only just left with Rose and Enda in tow and a promise that she would come tomorrow afternoon, Dany was sitting up on the bed with her back against the wall at its head, staring at a mark on the window while she listened for Jon to come inside from tending to Embar. Willa had come late, and the light was barely still alive outside.

On cue, the front door opened and he stumped inside. She heard him removing his boots and shedding his outer layers before shaking himself off like a wet dog, as he always did to rid himself of the last of the cold. Not that it was particularly cold out today. Opening the front door had barely let in a chill, which Dany was thankful for given that she did not need any more of it. She curled herself closer together, stubbornly not wanting to get under the furs.

"It's a beauty out today," said Jon as he walked over to their bedside. Dany felt his rough, familiar hand on her head, where he smoothed back her loose hair before kissing her forehead. The bed sagged when he sat next to her on the wrong side, as she had taken up his side for the time being. He was still stroking her hair. "Saw them meet up with Tormund," he assured her. "And Willa said everything just needed to move along a little more. That you should just rest."

"Mm," she groaned in reply. Willa had said the same to her. More time, more waiting.

She turned her head toward him to give him access to the rest of her hair. Instead, he traced over her face. "You do look exhausted, Dany," he murmured, a streak of concern in his voice. No doubt, she thought, that her face was pallid and smudged with darkness under her eyes. She didn't answer, stubbornness still flickering inside her. Instead she just melted closer to him and, in a flash of motion and a squawk of feeble protest, she was laying on his chest between his legs, the furs covering both of them.

"Maybe just rest for a while?" Jon suggested softly, ignoring her squirm, "Please? I'll be right here."


Her hair was braided. She felt it, thick and well-woven, against her neck when she woke. The house was dark. A pale dark, however. The light outside was helped by the low fire and the glowing egg on the mantle. Suddenly quite awake and confused, Dany raised her head to discover that she was no longer in Jon's arms. Instead, she had made her way back to his side of the bed while Jon was propped against the wall, fast asleep with his head to one side and his mouth slack. Little snores emitted with the rise of his chest, which, Dany noted through the dim light, was now bare. She smiled privately.

I rested for much more than a while. Still, she did feel fractionally less fatigued now and a bit foolish for having not wanted to listen to him.

There was something else too: something had shifted in the air. It was barely perceptible, so small that Dany thought she may be willfully imagining it, but it was there. A thin feeling, almost a gentle tingling in the still air around her. It made her think of Soraya, way back at Crackclaw Point. And of Saphira's den at the Mammoth's Head, of her first flight on Drogon, and even of the gaze of Willa's keen golden eyes. As if drawn by a more tangible, but similar force, Dany's gaze shifted to the egg on the mantle, glowing strangely. Was it possibly brighter? Stronger?

She squinted, but before she could do more she was abruptly shunted away from the mystic feelings, acutely becoming aware of another, more palpable one taking grip as she gained more wakefulness. "Oh," she gasped quietly, sitting up and laying her hands across her stomach, "you're here." Her stomach had tightened, and she felt a radiating ache that was different than before, yet suddenly familiar, coming with memories of howling winds and softly-spoken stories to while away the hours.

Caution (and a little bit of Willa's voice nagging in her head) told her to wait. "Wait and see if they're regular," is what Willa would be saying. But Dany couldn't help but feel every emotion bubble up at once: hope, apprehension, relief, anxiety, and a chill that had suddenly taken root, sapping the warmth of sleep. Obediently, however, she waited quietly and listened to Jon's snores to pass the time. Many snores later, it happened again.

More aware this time, Dany winced when her contraction began. Breathing deeply, waiting it out, she weighed whether or not she should let Jon sleep, and whether or not she wanted to go back to sleep. I couldn't, she thought as the last vestiges of pressure subsided for a time. I should though. But I can't.

A brief war of choices went on until she finally made a decision. to wait it out a little longer before waking her husband (It's not that bad yet, she reasoned.). Dany was just finished settling into a more comfortable position under the furs when Jon snorted and startled himself. She muffled a giggle as he jumped awake, watching as his eyes opened and he looked around warily. Clearly, he had not meant to fall asleep either.

"Nice of you to join me," said Dany once Jon was mid-yawn and stretch.

"Hu-oh, you're awake too?" Jon put his arms down. "Sorry. I did mean to wake you last night, but then-"

"You fell asleep as well?" she finished for him.

Jon shrugged. "Guess we both needed it, eh?"

"Doubtful we'll be getting much more," Dany said blandly, watching as her husband's face pondered the statement before his eyes widened. She felt the familiar pain begin in her back again, this time fully awake to experience it and knowing what to expect.

"You mean you're-?"

"Right now. In fact," Dany gritted, keeping her breathing organized. Jon reacted quickly, almost instinctively, drawing her closer to soothe her back and match his breathing to hers for aid. He relaxed when she did and pushed the few stray hairs away from her face.

Tracing back through her hair, down her braid, he wound the little loose end around his finger. "Willa's due this afternoon," he said to her, leaving the question out. It was fairly early. Dany could tell that morning only recently broken over the treetops.

"They're still a fair bit apart," she told him, taking his free hand and grasping it.

He stroked his thumb over their joined hands and smiled. "Okay," he agreed to her silent request. She shivered. "You cold?"

"A little," Dany said, nodding.

"Come here, then." Jon tugged at her hand, pulling her delicately into his lap and letting his hands settle over her belly under the furs while he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"I can't wait to meet her," he murmured, rubbing over the swell of her and kissing her neck lightly.

"Or him," she replied.

Jon just chuckled. "This is one bet I'm not losing, my love." Settling back into him, Dany grimaced, not from more pain, but from the thought of being one child closer to admitting to Tormund and Willa that she had once fallen headfirst into a tree well. She could already see Tormund's laugh shaking the snow from the trees. Or perhaps it will stay spring, she thought peacefully.


The lines of Jon's face seemed to have become more noticeable as the day wore on. They were taut and creased, not in the normal soft lines of the smile he wore so often with his family, but in concern. He was trying to hide it, Dany could tell. She was on the bed in just his shirt, on all fours, trying to shudder breaths while he rubbed her back in rhythmic circles. His emotions were audible.

"It's passing," she panted as the contraction subsided once more. Not long until the next. She remembered this. She remembered being able to handle it, and yet it felt increasingly more difficult. Her heart felt heavy and worried, but she did not dare say more and burden her husband any further. I've done this, I can do it again.

The circles had stopped. Dany looked around her shoulder and saw his worried eyes staring back at her. "What do you need?" he asked helplessly.

"Help me lie down?"

He perched next to her once they had re-situated. Delicately, as if she was ice that would break with any more pressure, he brushed the slick hair from her face. A layer of sweat beaded over her body, making the thin shirt cling uncomfortably to her. It made her think of the humid heat in some of the Free Cities, though Jon had told her the day here was shaping up to be another nice one. Earlier he had run out to feed Embar as she rested. Now the sun was high, light streaming into their home. It would not be long before Willa arrived. Thank the gods, Dany thought.

Dany could not suppress her whimper as another contraction began. She looked to Jon as the intensity of her pain grew, gripping his hand. "It'll pass soon," he said, "just keep breathing, love."

His words did not quite reach his eyes and he was frowning, but before she could say anything, both of them snapped their heads towards the front of the house as Willa's voice sounded, evidently telling Ghost not to jump on her. With another look at Dany and a squeeze of his hand, Jon disappeared from her side to open the door.

Left with the empty bed, Dany closed her eyes and fisted one of the furs, trying to bite back another whimper as she knew that Rose would be with Willa. Water ran down her thigh. Jon was hissing at Willa, leaving Dany to try and make out what they were saying as the pain began to ebb.

"Take Embar," Jon suddenly said loudly, "Rose sits fine on him if you keep one arm on her. She shouldn't..."

Whether he trailed off or just lowered his voice, Dany did not know. She did not hear anymore until the door banged closed and Jon was back at her side, pressing a kiss to her hair and holding her hand again. Willa swam into view. "I seem to time these arrivals well," she said, patting Dany's knee in greeting. "How're you feeling?"

"Wil," she all but whined, "it hurts."

"Okay," Willa replied gently, her face darkening for the barest moment, "let me take a look, eh?"

Then, Dany felt Willa's ear against her stomach and her cool hands brushing over her. She kept listening and feeling as it tightened and hardened while Dany clutched Jon's hand in her own slender one that he had once been shocked to learn was capable of such force. As she was able to rest again, she felt confusing pressure from Willa's hands. She could see her husband's face, a range of emotion writing and rewriting across it and Willa kept working. Dany winced. She was about to speak when Jon, in a voice that gave her a sudden chill, said, "What are you doing? Why are you making that face?"

Willa didn't answer. Her hands backed away.

"What is it?" Dany asked, surprised that her voice was unwavering.

She saw Jon turn back to her, looking worried as Willa came back into view, looking from Dany to Jon and chewing the inside of her lip as she tried to pick her words. "Dany," she finally said, "the baby, it hasn't turned. I thought...well, I've never yet had a baby not turn. I haven't had many, but I thought you would need another day or so. I remember my mother saying once. It's why I was coming later today. It's not… if it doesn't turn I..."

The healer suddenly looked far away, not finishing her sentence.

"Well?" Jon said harshly, "So you can fix it right? You stopped trying."

"I'm not a god, Jon!" Willa burst out, voice high, "I can't stop nature! I tried, but she's...I don't-"

"But you're a healer!"

"I-"

Dany reached to grab Willa's hand. "Willa," she said in as strong a voice she could manage as she felt the beginnings of another contraction, "Just. I trust you. We both do." She snapped her eyes to Jon, who, after a moment of looking abashed by his wife's words, nodded as well.

"Sorry," he muttered. His face had pinked.

Willa regarded him for a moment before nodding. She pulled in a breath, closing her eyes before breathing out again. "Talk to her," she told Jon, "I need you to keep her focused." Dany could see her golden eyes were dark and set, as the healer pushed up the sleeves of her shirt.

Jon had knelt by her side, close enough to stir her hair with his breath as he obeyed Willa's words. "You are so loved, my Dany," he whispered, "so loved. I'm right here, okay? We'll get through this."

"I love you," she breathed.

She felt him brush his hand over her hair again, the feel of his touch softening her pain just a little. Vaguely, she could hear Willa further down the bed, muttering to herself. It was not Common Tongue that the healer spoke, nor any language Dany understood. But she knew the hard sounds in each word, so familiar from the sounds of trading in Shadowedge. They were rhythmic words, almost poetic, and Dany realized that she was not muttering to herself; she was praying.

Her next contraction was beginning. She gripped Jon's hand tightly, enough to hear him hiss, though he did not recoil, as the full intensity washed over her. "Breathe, Dany," Jon instructed through her cry of pain, "keeping breathing, love. You're doing so well."

"Dany?" She heard Willa as the pain began to leave her for a moment. Her friend's voice shook slightly. "Dany, next time you'll push. I really need you to listen to me. Just like last time, yeah?"

Somewhere deep in her mind, she heard what Willa had said during Rose's birth: "When I tell you to push, you'll do it through your contraction. Then you can rest. Then it will start up again, okay?"

"I trust you," Dany repeated.

She felt Jon squeeze her hand, his lips pressing a kiss to her temple as another contraction began and she heard Willa's instruction: "Push, Dany."

The pain grew worse as she listened to Willa. She felt the stinging prick in her eyes of tears as she squeezed them shut, crying out, her hand shaking in Jon's. "You can do this, love," Jon murmured through the pain as she heard Willa tell her to relax, "you're doing so well."

Dany nodded at Jon's words, looking to him in reprieve and seeing his eyes shining like hers must have been as well. "Again, Dany," Willa instructed.

Time crawled, yet it hurtled as well. Before she could truly rest between pushing, she was pushing again. Her head was buzzing, her body exhausted. Jon's encouragement starkly contrasted to how tired she felt, her strength wavering while nature continued to thrust her forward, each contraction demanding she give more of herself to it despite there not possibly being anything left of her.

"Push," she heard Willa say, "Jon!" Her cries edged on desperate screams as she did as told, a burning feeling accompanying her this time. Somewhere, somewhere so far away it could have been in a dream, she remembered Jon seeing Rose's head for the first time. He had held her hand, but disappeared from her side before coming back to proudly proclaiming what he had seen. Now, when she was told to relax and was able to look for him, he was gone, as was his hand.

Instead, someone else was now touching her. She felt rough hands add new pressure close between her legs. "I'm right here, Dany," Jon told her, thumb brushing her where she felt him pressing, "I'm still here and you're doing so well."

"Okay, push again," Willa said. Softer, as Dany began to push again, feeling the burning once more, she heard her friend murmur more in Old Tongue. There seemed to be more than one voice, but Dany could hear no more as her cries drowned it out.

It was as if someone had stoked the burning she felt to set it ablaze. Willa told her to relax, then told her to push again. Unable to keep it in any longer, she screamed. She heard someone make a strangled, pained sound as Willa distantly encouraged her again. "Nearly there, Dany," she strained, as if she, too, were working this hard, "nearly there push again!"

Please, she prayed, unable to think of more, please.

Tears were freely streaming down her cheeks, her hands violently trembling as they fisted the bed. "It's happening, Dany, love," she heard Jon say thickly from somewhere, "you're so close."

Then, she felt it again. The tingle in the air from before.

Time slowed, space melted, and sound stalled, all replaced with the rushing and thumping of what could have been a heartbeat, or waves, or both. She felt taut, coiled, and yet weightless. She could see, but was blinded. There was light and true heat. It compelled her, weighed her down and pressed on her until she knew only one release that Willa did not need to encourage her to do. Suddenly, as she pushed again, the world erupted in a snap that blazed around her and left her disoriented, only feeling the pressure change and, in the most primal part of her, knew it was her baby sliding free.

Blindly, she heard gasping and calling. There was a sound of flurried, heavy movement and detached voices she didn't understand. Without thinking, Dany reached, searching for the small, warm, crying weight that was supposed to be in her arms. That she knew had come into the world. The wrong warmth closed around her hands shakily as harsh, desperate Old Tongue flooded her ears. Blinking, she saw Jon kneeling in front of her, blurred like someone had smeared paint before it had a chance to dry. He was crying. But she couldn't hear anyone else doing the same..

Her soul plummeted. "Where…?"

Jon's slumped down to her and he shook his head. "Dany, she's…"

"Breathing!" Willa suddenly shouted from beyond, "She's breathing!"