Did we really make her?
Dany smiled, holding her nursing baby to her breast and closing her eyes as she listened to the little sucking sounds her daughter made.
She was exhausted, sore, unkempt, and so unbelievably happy. At one week old, Rose was perfect. Virtually her entire tiny life had been spent sleeping, crying, and suckling from her mother ten or so times a day, but Dany was unable to remember ever loving anything or anyone more. You're so loved, Rose, she found herself thinking several times a day, you're so loved.
Following with the free folk tradition of waiting to name babies, they had decided to call her Rose for the time being, after the winter rose Jon had given Dany right before their daughter was born. Her eyes were nearly precisely that same shade of blue and she had a small patch of light hair on her little head already. She also had ten perfect toes, ten perfect fingers, and a contented expression on her face whenever she slept that Dany loved.
"Was that good?" Dany cooed to her sleepy baby once she had finished and burped. Rose blinked her big eyes slowly and nestled closer to her mother, settling down for what Dany was sure would be a nice sleep. She leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her daughter's forehead.
The door to the house opened with some difficulty and Jon shuffled in, face red from the biting cold. The storm that Rose was born in had caused several trees to fall into the clearing and several more obstructions throughout the forest. Every day, Dany thanked any god she could think of that their home and barn were completely spared. Even more so, she and Jon were still reeling with amazement at Willa showing up in the storm.
"How did you get here?" Jon had asked the healer hours after Rose's birth. Dany was barely awake, nursing her daughter, and Willa and Jon were sharing food at the foot of the bed. The storm still raged outside, battering against the house.
"A lot of holding on to trees, praying I picked strong branches, and patience in the wind gusts. It's honestly not the first time I've walked through a storm - though I hope it's the last for a while," the healer replied, "I woke up and just felt like I needed to leave and get here. Something told me that I just had to go right then. Good thing that footpath is worn in - I was walking blind for most of the trip."
Jon shook his head in disbelief. "You're absolutely insane. But I'm really glad you made it through," he told her.
"Aye, also not the first time that's been said," Willa replied, "And I have no doubt you could have delivered your daughter. But it works a lot better with two hands."
Dany still felt badly about that. Purple and blue bruises covered Jon's stiff hand and wrist that had taken hours of punishment from Dany during her contractions. Willa said it would just take time to heal, and Jon tried to make her feel better every time he caught her wincing at the sight of it.
"It's all right, Dany," was his continuous refrain, "If anything, I'm just extremely impressed with how strong your grip is!
Even with only one fully functioning hand, Jon had been working to cut the trees away from the clearing, stacking up the wood by the barn to use later, but the process was difficult with snow higher than Dany piled up. The few times she had been outside were both terrible and awe-inspiring. Though she knew the north would have horrible storms, seeing the snow piled above her head was quite a humbling experience. I suppose it could be worse, Dany thought, we could have to live like Valemen in impassable mountains plus snow forever. At least where they lived on the banks of the Antler was fairly flat.
Jon shed his outer layers onto the floor before pausing, as had become his routine, to gaze at Dany and Rose on the bed. Dany had not thought it was possible for someone to be continually amazed by the same sight, but Jon proved her wrong. The generally stoic Northman had taken to fatherhood like a bird takes to air and today was no different: his eyes brimmed with pure love as he looked from mother to daughter.
"My girls," he murmured as he walked over and kissed Dany. The kiss was intense, leaving Dany's heart stuttering, as if Jon was trying to put every emotion he was feeling into it at once.
"She just finished feeding," Dany told him quietly. He smiled, bringing one hand gently over his daughter's tiny head as if trying to touch a snowflake without it melting. A week had gone by, but Dany was pretty sure Jon was still fearful of breaking Rose. Every time he held the baby, she could tell it was equally the most incredible and terrifying thing he had ever done. His grey eyes would widen and fill with wonder, and sometimes she caught him gaping like he was witnessing a natural phenomenon whenever Rose moved.
After a moment more of simply watching Rose sleep, Jon turned back to Dany. "Are you hungry?" he asked, bringing his hand from Rose's head to stroke over Dany's cheek.
"Mhmm," Dany answered sleepily, melting into his touch, "But I don't want to put her down just yet."
Jon chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll bring you something to eat and then we can trade."
Minutes later, Dany traded her baby to Jon for a warm bowl of stew that he had put on the fire earlier that day. Rose stirred when she was shifted to Jon's arms (the familiar look of wonderment briefly crossed his face) but did not wake and after a delicate whiskery kiss to the top of her head, Jon gently laid her into her cradle.
Not old enough yet for a feather bed like her parents' (though rest assured, Dany had already been maniacally plucking birds and started making a mattress), Rose slept on a sturdier surface in the cradle Jon had built for her.
"Sometimes I still look at her and remember all over again that we have a daughter," Jon said in awe as he settled at Dany's feet with his own bowl of stew, "It seems like we were just in that cave yesterday with you getting ill everywhere, spilling a bottle of dye, and then telling me you were pregnant."
"I appreciate that the first thing you remember is that I was vomiting everywhere," she replied between spoonfuls of stew, smirking.
"It was a defining part of our journey for about two months, of course I remember it," Jon defended, though he was smiling too.
Dany said nothing, though regarded him with narrow eyes as she took her last few spoonfuls of stew. A wave of exhaustion flooded over her nearly as soon as she set the bowl down, and she sleepily closed her eyes halfway while still mildly focused on Jon eating his meal.
"Tired?" he asked as he finished his bowl and set it down with hers.
"Mm," was the only reply she could muster, though she tried to keep her eyes open. With Jon outside so much clearing up, they had not spent much time with just the two of them together. But even with how much she wanted to, Dany could not foresee staying awake for him much longer.
He moved up to sit on his side of the bed and she shifted to cuddle up to him, head in his lap. He ran his fingers through her unkempt hair - Dany had not had much energy to tame it - and spoke softly to her. "Just rest," he said, "I'll comb your hair for you if you want."
She nodded, barely noticing when he got up to grab the comb and then settled back down, bringing her head into his lap again. Vaguely aware of the soothing sensations that had begun on her scalp, Dany let herself drift off into sleep.
Flying over the edge of the sea, frozen with dark iceberg peaks, Dany heard the distant rumble of the ice shifting in the water. She was looking for something. Something that had been calling to her, so low it was barely a disturbance through the air. It was close. She knew she could find it if it kept calling. The sound was compelling, as compelling as when she first flew north. But where was it?
What was it? Dany thought as her mind pulled her from sleep. She blinked her eyes open to dim light, trying to hold onto the quickly fading dream. More and more, she had become aware that she was continually dreaming of flying through the north. It happened when Rose was born, and nearly every night since then: so often that flying had begun to feel wonderfully familiar again. Just like with Drogon.
An ache settled in her heart as she thought about the dragon she had not seen for over a year. Had she been dreaming through his eyes like some sort of dragon greenseer? Was he possibly in the north as well? Hope fluttered in her chest. She remembered dreaming of dragons as a child, though at that time she had never seen one before. Her dreams had always been of her looking up and seeing vividly colored dragons soaring over the Free Cities. Always, she woke up feeling wonderful after those dreams. Though it was a short-lived wonder when Viserys would yell at her not to make up lies whenever she shared what had happened with him. But this was different. It wasn't a lie or the thoughts of a little girl seeing dragons for the first time. It was as if she was the dragon.
Or am I just sleep-deprived and letting my imagination get the best of me? Dany thought, the little buoyancy of hope deflating. She couldn't deny that she missed her child terribly, especially in the wake of Rose's birth. But in the whole time she and Jon traveled, and even now in the north, it seemed as if Drogon had simply vanished after Dany left him on Dragonstone with the rest of her heritage. No news of him had ever reached her. Unless these dreams were, in fact, true?
Shrugging off the thoughts, Dany vaguely remembered this being the third time she had woken during the night. The last time, she blearily could picture Rose being placed on her breast to nurse, but knew she had fallen asleep almost as soon as the baby's mouth had latched onto her nipple. She wondered if the same thing had happened the time before as well. Jon tried to wake up and help with night feedings so that Dany could sleep through some of them, but it tended to depend on who heard Rose first. I don't think I heard anything tonight, Dany thought, still feeling partially in a fog as she stretched her arms above her head.
"And when you're a little older, we'll be able to visit the barn together and tend to the livestock. By that time we'll have sheep and goats. And enough wool and feathers for two pillows each!" Dany heard Jon murmuring, standing a little ways away from Rose's cradle.
"Your mama loves her pillow. We have almost enough feathers for a second one now - you're not old enough for one yet, but you'll have one later. And I'm going to make sure you have your own room. You'll probably share it when you have a brother or sister down the line," he leaned down towards his chest and Dany realized that he was holding the baby, "I know you're only a week old but I already know I want siblings for you as long as your mama does."
"Give me a chance to rest a while longer before we try for another one," Dany said quietly, getting up from bed to go over to Jon.
He smiled as she wrapped her arms around him, peeking the sleeping baby nestled against his chest.
"We didn't mean to wake you," Jon said apologetically, "She was a little fussy after she finished nursing."
"She doesn't seem to be fussy now," Dany observed.
In the dim light, she could see Jon's face turn sheepish. "I wasn't ready to put her back down, yet," he admitted, "I've...kind of been doing this most nights. Helping you with nursing and then holding her...for practice."
"Seems to be working," she told him before yawning. She scratched her head, fingers slipping through her hair more easily than before. It was less knotty than when she went to sleep, loosely braided though perhaps a little lopsided. "So does your braiding practice," she added.
"That I haven't gotten down yet. You have a lot of hair."
"We can work on it another time," she said. Gently, she stroked Rose's right foot, which was sticking out from between Jon's arms. It flexed, her little toes spreading apart.
The baby shifted in Jon's arms, grabbing some of his shirt in her tiny fist.
"Is it weird that I didn't expect her to be so small?" Dany asked.
Jon shook his head. "No. I thought the same. But then again, you're quite small," he said, leaning to kiss her head.
"What do you think she'll look like?" he asked, his tone very eager. Dany thought that he must have had the question on his mind for a while as he continued, "Do you think she'll keep the blue eyes and the light hair? Or darken? I wonder if she'll look more like you or me. Or a combination of us."
"I'm not sure. I think she'll darken, though. At least her hair. Look a little more Northern like her papa. And Willa said most babies' eyes don't stay blue forever, though hers are very pretty right now."
"Whatever she looks like, she's perfect," Jon said, looking down at the sleeping Rose, studying her baby features before moving to place her back in the cradle.
He turned back afterwards, placing a hand around Dany's waist. "Let's get back to bed. Rest for a little longer before the sky lightens," he said, guiding her.
In bed, they cuddled together with Dany's head on Jon's chest and his arms wrapped around her, one hand drawing little patterns over her skin. Dany's eyes began to close again and she felt sleep creeping up on her.
Crying pushed back at the wave of sleep and Dany opened one eye to make sure she wasn't dreaming first.
"My turn," she told Jon, kissing him before sliding out of bed to lull their daughter back to sleep.
Until next time.