Tyrion froze at the door. He felt his brother come to an abrupt stop behind him, heard Jon let out a shuttering gasp. The room was dark and Sansa was facing Brienne and another of Daenerys' ladies who were serving her in her labour.
Heart beating rapidly, Tyrion walked closer. He could see that Sansa's head was swaying from side to side, her beautiful eyes hazy and her mouth in a grimace of pain.
"You can do it, Sansa," Brienne said, her voice almost a groan. A large hand patted Tyrion's shoulder and Tyrion turned up to find Jaime's green eyes looking into his. They were calm, steady and Tyrion felt his chest settle.
Sansa was here, in front of him for the first time in - how long? She was here and he was with her.
"Sansa," he said hollowly. She turned to look at him but then let out a screech of pain as another contraction hit. Tyrion swallowed. "Brienne, what can I do?" he begged. Brienne looked up at him, blue eyes concerned.
She shook her head. "Hold her hand. Get on the bed and hold her hand." Tyrion nodded hastily, shoving his sleeves up to his elbows. When Sansa looked at him, it was as though she didn't recognise him, but, when he put his hand in hers, she let out a small sob and squeezed it tightly. Tyrion glanced back to find Jaime and Jon watching with worry.
"Go and find a maester, Jon," Tyrion ordered. "Just - just in case." The king nodded and hurried out of the room. Jaime grew close to Tyrion.
"What can I do?" Jaime muttered. Tyrion stroked his wife's red face and shook his head.
"Pray."
Jaime, in fact, went around to the other side of the bed to ask the same question of his wife and share a deep look with her. Tyrion had never appreciated his brother or his goodsister more as they gave up their reunion, after so many months, to care for his wife. Jaime was dispatched to fetch fresh sheets and towels.
"Come on, Sansa, I need you to push for me," the other lady said. Sansa shook her head weakly. Tyrion found tears in his eyes.
"You can do it," he murmured, pushing hair back from her forehead. She looked at him, her eyes heavily lidded. Tyrion wanted to send her strength. He asked, begged, pleaded with the Gods to send his strength to Sansa, to give her energy, to give her hope. He would not lose her, not like this, never like this.
Jaime returned swiftly, followed by Jon and the maester. The maester took one look at Sansa and then had a quiet conversation with Jon. Tyrion shook his head wildly. "If he is saying anything negative," he told Jon, his voice as steady as it could be, "then go and get somebody else. A birthing woman. A different maester. I don't want anybody in here who thinks my wife can't survive this. Sansa is strong and she is going to have our baby."
Jon cocked his head and dismissed the maester. As he did, Tyrion's chest ran faster. His legs were cramping from his position on the bed but he didn't dare move. His wife- Gods, he couldn't lose his wife this way. Her face was bright red but her eyes were slipping in and out of being dazed. Tyrion could see that Brienne was pale, watching Sansa. He shook his head at her.
"Sansa, Sansa, please," Tyrion begged. She didn't even look at him. "Take my strength. Please, Sansa, please."
XXX
Jaime watched his brother, his own heart wrenching at the sight of Sansa looking so weak, at the sight of Tyrion with tears on his cheeks. Surely not now, after surviving the war, after surviving Daenerys, after Jon had finally seen that there was something wrong with his wife. Surely they wouldn't lose Sansa now.
Brienne's face was pale as they changed the sheets beneath Sansa. Jaime didn't know if this made her more fearful of the birthing bed. He hoped not. She would need all her strength, too, when she gave birth. It was going to be any day now. And Sansa would be there, beside Brienne.
Jaime sent a prayer to the Mother, to the Maiden, to the Crone. He sent one to the Father, the Stranger, the Warrior.
Sansa Stark was a warrior. She had already been through so much. They couldn't - wouldn't - lose her now.
Jaime saw his wife's eyes light up when she stood herself up rightly again after having looked between Sansa's legs. "I can see the head, Sansa," she enthused. Jaime's heart skipped a beat. He looked at Tyrion, who had his head bowed.
"You can do it, Sansa," Jaime whispered. "Come on, Sansa. Don't give up on us now."
There was a moment, after the small body had made its way out of Jaime's goodsister, just a split second where there was no cry. No piercing wail as Joanna had made when she was born. Jaime's entire body froze. He watched Tyrion turn his head slowly to the baby in Brienne's arms. He heard Jon arrive back, saw the birthing woman he had brought with him freeze at the sight of the silent baby.
And then it - he - cried.
A great screech like he'd been holding it in to make things dramatic. A half laugh, half sob escaped from Jaime's mouth and he found himself at Brienne's side before he knew what he was doing, his hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes.
She'd done it. Delivered Sansa's baby. Jaime looked up to find Tyrion pressing a kiss to Sansa's head. Her colour had evened out. The birthing woman, a large woman, bustled into the room. "Men!" she declared. "Out, now. Men in the birthing room. Get - out!"
Jaime glanced at Tyrion, his eyes wide, and then at Jon. Tyrion let out a watery chuckle and pressed a kiss to Sansa's forehead again. "My brother and the king will leave," he said, "but I'm not leaving my wife for another moment." Sansa smiled tiredly at him and Jaime felt his shoulders fall in relief, before, indeed, following Jon out of the room.
The two of them collapsed against the wall outside of the room, laughing with relief. "I really thought," Jon started and then cut himself off. Jaime nodded.
"I know. But she's okay."
"She's okay."
Jaime looked up at the sound of the closed door to the birthing room opening. He smiled widely at the sight of his heavily pregnant wife but then his brow creased when he saw that she was wincing. "Jaime," she said and Jaime knew what she was going to say before she said it.
"How long?"
"About six hours," she said.
"Fuck."
They had Brienne in a nearby bed before the birthing woman had even finished with Sansa and her baby boy. Jaime held her hand as tightly as he could. "Where's - Joanna?" Brienne said between gritted teeth.
"With your maid." Brienne nodded hurriedly. "I can get -"
"No," she snapped. "Stay. Joanna - wait." Jaime chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"Okay, love. We can do this."
"I don't see you doing any of the fucking work, Jaime," Brienne groaned, tipping her head back. Jaime fought to hide his smirk, especially when he saw Jon laughing at the doorway.
"The birthing woman will be five minutes." Brienne nodded.
"Fine. It's fine. I've done this before. Tell her I don't think I'm far off."
Jaime knelt on the edge of the bed, ignoring the dirty look he received when the birthing woman arrived to help Brienne bring their next baby into the world. "You having twins?" she asked matter-of-factly when she surveyed Brienne.
Jaime looked up sharply. Brienne furrowed her brow. "Twins?" Jaime said incredulously. The birthing woman nodded impatiently.
"Any decent maester would have measured you and said that. Have you not seen a maester?" Jaime glanced at Brienne but he was fairly certain that she had not heard a thing that the birthing woman had said after twins.
The birthing woman shook her head. "No matter. You're right, though. They're on their way."
Jaime chuckled a bit hysterically as the birthing woman put her hand between Brienne's legs and announced that she could feel the head - of their first baby. Two more babies. Jaime grinned at Brienne and she scowled back at him. "I missed that scowl," he said fondly.
"You'll be missing sex for the rest of your life," she swore and Jaime snorted.
"Come back to me in two months, wench, and see if you're saying the same thing." Brienne's glare was so intense - and the birthing woman was looking at him so incredulously - that Jaime ducked his head.
The first baby came quite slowly, after they first saw the head, and then the next baby rushed out to join her sister. Two girls. Jaime was glad that it was two girls. Twin girls. Now he had three girls. Joanna - and her sisters.
Brienne leaned her head back sleepily as the birthing woman helped her deliver the afterbirth. Jaime, his second daughter in his arms - and his third resting on her mother's chest - wondered how long his wife had been awake, delivering Sansa's baby and then her own. Jaime stepped over to the door, where he found a maid outside with fresh sheets. He took them from her and dispatched her to go and get Joanna, so that she could meet her sisters.
"What shall we call them?" Brienne's hoarse voice asked as the birthing woman and the maid stripped the first side of the bed and replaced it with sheets, and then the second, like a military operation.
"What do you want to call them?" Jaime countered, perching himself on the now clean sheets. Brienne sighed.
"If it was a boy, I wanted Galladon."
"Very inconvenient of them, not being boys."
Brienne pursed her lips at him and Jaime briefly kissed her, closing his eyes to savour the feel of her lips. "You're my hero," he whispered to her. She chuckled and Jaime found that there were tears on her cheeks. He wiped them away awkwardly with his stump which made her smile. "What about - Arya says that the name Aloise means warrior." Brienne smiled at him and nodded at the baby in his arms.
"She looks like an Aloise." Brienne hummed. "And I like Leoline for a girl."
Jaime furrowed his brow at her. "Where have you got that from?"
Brienne smiled. "The Lannister family tree."
Jaime snorted. "Of course. Wonderful. Aloise and Leoline Lannister." He pressed a kiss to her lips and smiled at her. "I love you."
There was a knock at the door and the maid that Jaime had sent to get Joanna walked in, his eldest daughter perched on her hip.
"Dada," she mumbled and Jaime smiled, thanking the maid. She bobbed a curtsey and left.
"Hi, little girl," Brienne cooed as Jaime placed their first baby down on the bed. "I missed you." Joanna lifted a pudgy hand to poke Brienne's face and Jaime smiled, perching beside her. He looked over them, his four girls, and felt a huge swell of love in his heart. What had he done to deserve this?
He smiled. He'd stolen an army and marched it to his love's home, what felt like years ago.
XXX
Arya stumbled into Jon's chambers, the baby in her arms. She'd walked back with her to the palace, unable to cope with the fact that she had to tell her brother, her dearest brother, that his wife had died, alone, in an alley, after giving birth to a child.
"Arya!" Jon cried when he saw her, jumping up from his desk. "Where have you been? We've not seen you in-"
"Daenerys is dead," she cut him off in a dull tone. She watched with a breaking heart as Jon stumbled backwards, barely catching himself on the bed frame. "This is your daughter."
Jon didn't react. He stared behind Arya, at nothing. Arya swallowed her apologies, her explanations. That could all come later. For now, all he needed to know was that his wife was dead and that she had given him a child.
"Did she name her?" Jon asked with no emotion. His eyes finally moved to his daughter, pink and sleeping, her hair already so blonde that it couldn't be seen very clearly against her soft head. Arya smiled down at her niece.
She shook her head. "She didn't." Arya stepped forward and pressed the baby girl into Jon's arms. "You can name her whatever you want."
Jon's eyes were glassy. "How can I? Do I name her as a Targaryen or as a Stark?"
"Do you want to rule as a Targaryen or a Stark?"
Jon met Arya's eyes and a sob wracked his body. Arya felt her own eyes prick with tears. She stepped forward and wrapped her brother in her arms, his daughter peaceful between them.
XXX
FOUR YEARS LATER
"Papa," Visenya Stark cried as her father walked into the throne room. Sansa smiled. She'd not seen her niece in almost two years now, since her last visit to King's Landing, where her brother ruled as King Jon Stark, alongside his soon-to-be queen, Val of the Free Folk.
Along with her husband and their three children, Eddard, Catelyn and Robb, Sansa had travelled down from Winterfell, along with a delegation from the Free Folk, to witness her brother's wedding. It was a long time in coming. People had been clamouring for Jon to remarry, since not very long after his first wife's death, but Jon had taken his time to grieve, to get to know his daughter and to choose somebody who the realm would love.
The people certainly loved Val, who wore her hair freely and spoke often with the people of King's Landing. The nobles were still smarting from the hit to their prides, as there were so many girls who would have offered King Jon more than Val did.
Sansa saw both sides of the argument, from afar, but, up close now in King's Landing, she could see that Val would make her brother happy.
Any children they had would, of course, come after Visenya in the succession. Visenya would follow her mother and be the second queen of Westeros to rule in her own right.
Sansa watched her brother scoop his daughter into his arms. Her hair was running free, just like Val's. Val stepped forward to speak softly to Visenya and Sansa was pleased to see Visenya react happily to her attentions.
"Lord and Lady Lannister," the man at the door announced. Sansa grinned, glancing at Tyrion at her side. It had only been three months since Jaime and Brienne had left Winterfell, but it was always too long between visits.
Jaime and Brienne entered in all blue and gold. Two maids followed them, with golden-haired Joanna, twins Aloise and Leoline, toddling Galladon and baby Catrine. Sansa strode down the platform to greet them.
With a smile, she took Brienne's hands into her own. "Goodsister," she greeted.
"Sansa," Brienne said fondly. "I was surprised you came." Her eyes flicked down to Sansa's growing stomach. Sansa laughed.
"It always shocks me how large you get, Sansa," Jaime said, leaning over to kiss Sansa's cheek, "considering how minute your husband is."
Tyrion, at Jaime's side, said, "and it always shocks me that your children manage to be born, considering the size of head that they are inheriting." Brienne snorted and tapped Jaime's stomach. He scowled at her. "How was your journey, dear goodsister?"
"Very well, though Catrine was fussy."
"Well, you have to consider her parentage, Brienne. If you continue to insist on producing little Jaimes, they will continue to be fussy."
"This is the last time I'm travelling to see you, Tyrion," Jaime groused. "I always end up being picked on."
"You always deserve it," Brienne said to him. Jaime clucked his tongue and Sansa smiled.
"It is good to see you," she said to them both. "Jon is having a private dinner with the Free Folk tonight so you should come to our chambers."
Tyrion nodded. "Bring your brood."
Jaime grinned, looking over his shoulder at the children who were looking around themselves in awe. Catrine was sleeping on the maid's shoulder. He turned to his wife and brought her hand to his mouth to kiss.
"We'll see you there."