Chapter 9

It took them weeks to reach Eastwatch, even with a swift ship. When they reached land again, Deirdre stayed out of sight with a few of her men while Dacey and Ned arranged for horses more suited to the northern climate and a covered wagon. Deirdre was too close to her time and could no longer sit a horse. She should not be traveling at all but they had little choice. Along the Wall, the snows slowed them down, and she feared they'd never make it to Castle Black before the babe was born or they all froze to death.

Before they left Eastwatch, Ned warned her, "When we get to the Wall, we cannot tell people who you are. Your goodbrother will know, of course. The Lord Commander is Dacey's uncle, and she assures me that he can be trusted, so there's him as well. Their Maester will likely be loyal to Lord Commander Mormont, and we're as like to need his help with the birth and afterward. But we should tell no one else unless Jon knows they can be trusted. Before we know otherwise, we must assume that no one can be trusted."

Deirdre had nodded in understanding.

"Your Grace," Robert had said then, and she'd looked over to at him. He'd knelt down, laying his sword at her feet. "You are my queen and you carry my king's heir. Once again, I swear that I am your man, devoted to you and your child from this day until my last day. The king chose us to protect you and I will honor that with fealty until my death."

"As will I," Adair had sworn, kneeling and swearing the same oath as Robert had.

One by one the men had taken a knee and vowed to defend and serve her child and herself. Dacey had been the last. "I promised King Robb that I would protect you and take you to Jon Snow. I gave him my word as his guard and as his friend. And I do the same to you. His last words to me were to tell you that he'd love you to his last breath. If the king is truly dead, he died with you in his heart. I will honor my promise to him and serve you until my last day."

Deirdre had blinked away tears and straightened. I must be their queen, no matter how great my grief she'd thought. "Your oaths honor me beyond words, and I accept them. No family is as steadfast as the Starks, and no bannerman are worthier of distinction than the Northmen who are truly loyal to them. Roose Bolton has shamed the Northmen with his treachery and one day he will pay. Until then, please protect my child, and I will be forever grateful."

"Children, Your Grace," Dacey had said with a smile. "The King was convinced that there are two."

Deirdre had to smile herself and had given her stomach a small rub, pleased when she felt her child move. "For the first time, I hope so. They would never be alone, then."

The babe moved constantly now, making her even more miserable but she tried not to complain too much, as everyone was working so hard to get her safely to the Wall. She could tell her men were worried about her by the looks they gave her when they thought she wasn't looking. She was their queen and must be strong, so she hid her tears when she felt them come, forcing them back until she could curl up under her furs at night, cradling her babe and pretending that her hands were Robb's.

Whenever she was able to sleep she was back in the camps behind the Twins, trying to claw her way through the black shapes surrounding her to reach her husband, who was always on the other side of a surging river of blood. The more she pushed forward, the further away the Twins were, though they loomed over her like the arched entryway to a tomb, growing larger the closer she came to them.

x-x-x

They were two days from Castle Black when her birthing pains began. They rode all day and night, only stopping to rest the horses before they set off again. The wagon did nothing to help her discomfort, bouncing about as it did. The last day Deirdre wept for hours, senselessly begging for Robb in between her pains at time almost completely unaware of her surroundings. When they'd stopped to check on her, Dacey told Ned she didn't think they'd make it to the Wall before Deirdre had the babe. Any of them that knew about childbirth first-hand from siblings or their own children, knew the intensity of her labor was unusual and they feared the worst for her. Dacey had not left her side for a whole day, concern written across her face.

"She can't have the child here, Dacey. It's not safe. We've got to move faster," Ned had insisted from his place at Deirdre's side. Brushing Deirdre's hair away from her face, he'd said firmly, "You're not having this babe here, Your Grace. Do you understand me? I know it's a Stark and very stubborn, but this is no place to have a child."

"I'm sorry," she'd replied weakly. "I know you're all trying your best and are exhausted."

"We'll be fine if you can just manage to hold on for a little bit longer. When we get to Castle Black, the maester will help you, and your goodbrother will be there as well," Ned soothed with a gentle smile. "If anything happens to you now, I'd never forgive myself, so promise me you won't have this babe until you're safely in Castle Black."

Deirdre nodded her agreement, biting back her cries. She loved Ned dearly, as much as a brother. She loved all of her men now more than ever before. But she wanted Robb. She wanted him to hold her, to tell her that it would be all right, that their babe would be all right. He'd promised that he'd be with her in the birthing chamber no matter what the maester said. Lady Stark told him he'd just be in the way and that it was best for him to wait outside, but Deirdre argued that she wanted Robb with her. Right now, she'd be happy simply to have Lady Stark with her, but she was dead, and wouldn't ever hold her grandchild. Deirdre couldn't think about that now, or about the others who would never leave the Twins again. Deirdre didn't have the strength to mourn them right now, and she had to focus on bringing her babe into the world safely. Robb will find his way to us. He must.

At least Jon would be there at Castle Black. She didn't know how he'd feel about her arrival, but knowing he'd be there soothed her. Jon would never allow anything to happen to her or Robb's child and it would be so sweet to see him again after all this time.

The final hours of the journey seemed to pass in one continuous stream of agony for Deirdre. She felt like the babe was trying to claw his way into the world and all she could think about was the pain, thinking there must be something wrong to hurt this much. What if she lost her child as well? She couldn't bear it.

When they drew closer to Castle Black, she could hear her guards exchange some heated words with someone outside the wagon, but couldn't make out what was being said or to whom.

"Adair, stay with the queen," Dacey commanded, jumping out of the wagon as it rolled to a stop.

"Why are we stopping?" Deirdre sobbed, clutching Adair's arm. "Is it Robb?"

"No, some of the Night's Watch are talking to Dacey, is all. It won't be long now," Adair promised her. "We can't let anyone know who you are though, remember Your Grace?" She nodded, trying again to bite back her cries of pain. Her child was impatient to be born.

She could hear Dacey speaking determinedly outside. "I am Dacey Mormont of Bear Island. We're here to see my lord uncle. Please summon your maester at once: my friend is with child and her time is near. She cannot wait long."

"Your uncle's not here and we can't let you come in. Can't you see we've just done battle here? This is no place for birthing babes." a voice answered back.

"Unless you know how to deliver a child, I suggest you get your Maester, boy. We're coming in one way or another," Ned threatened with a growl. "And find Jon Snow."

Adair helped her out of the wagon, and Deirdre barely had time to take in their surroundings before she stumbled forward to her knees. Ned swept her up into his arms and the motion, coupled with an intense birthing pain, made her world go black.

x-x-x

"Maester, she's waking up," a man's voice said.

"Your Grace?" Dacey hand was cool against her skin. "Maester Aemon is going to take care of you now."

"Where's Robb?" she whispered.

"He's not here," Dacey replied softly. "But we need you to focus on the babe now."

"Jon? Is he here?" Deirdre pleaded. She didn't care if it was normal to have a man with her in the birthing chamber. She wanted Robb and if not Robb, she wanted his brother; someone she knew loved her and who would love this child, someone with Stark blood.

"I'll go find him myself, Your Grace. I met him before at Winterfell, so hopefully he'll remember me. Ned is right outside the door if you need anyone," Dacey said, and left the room briskly.

"Your Grace, I'm Maester Aemon," an old man said then, taking her hand between his. His sightless eyes stared at a place somewhere above her head, but his hands were gentle.

"Please call me Deirdre. I don't mean to be unkind, but how will you be able to help me if you're blind?" she asked hesitantly.

"I haven't done this in some time, but I don't think anything has changed," the old maester said with a smile. "I know you're frightened and in pain, but I'll take good care of you. After the journey you've had, this should be relatively simple. Here, this is dreamwine. It will help with the pain." He handed her a small cup.

The boy with them was staring at her as if he'd never seen a woman with child before. She's was about to birth her babe in a place where only men lived, with a blind maester and a green boy who looked half-terrified at the sight of her. She might have laughed if she hadn't been in so much pain. It won't be long now. Oh Robb, where are you?

x-x-x

The last embers had burnt out, but Jon Snow remained where he was, where he'd been standing for hours. Ygritte's face would not leave his mind, and if he listened hard enough, he could hear her laughing. They'd burned the bodies of the other wildings as well, but Jon had insisted that Ygritte be left to him and him alone. He didn't want his brothers to watch, and she deserved for him to attend her himself, not leaving it to one of the other crows or throwing her haphazardly in with other wildlings. She deserved her own fire and he had remained with her until the last light had gone out. Kissed by fire. It had glimmered as brightly as her hair had done.

She was gone. His brothers were dead as well, at the hand of Theon Greyjoy, whom he had sparred with every day, whom he would glare at when the older boy smiled at the wrong thing and made some poor jest about a serving girl. Winterfell was no more. His childhood home was blackened by fire and treachery. The thick walls he remembered had seemed impermeable, the ancient stone as comforting and shielding as the guards who stood sentry at every entrance, and now that proud castle lay in ruins if the tales were true. Robb was at war, Sansa a captive in King's Landing, and no one knew where Arya was. Father was dead, his bones lost, no doubt long abandoned in some southern ditch by those chosen to bear them north. And Uncle Benjen was lost as well, most likely lying in a frozen grave. Even Ghost was gone. The life he had known, the family he had loved, was gone. Many of his black brothers had died during the battle, and they'd have to burn them too, to keep them from coming back. Part of Jon had died out there, too, he realized. He'd never been so alone in his life.

x-x-x

Jon was a sight to behold when he re-entered the training yard, covered in blood and soot, exhausted, and favoring his unnjured leg. He wanted nothing more than to bathe and then sleep until the events of the last few moons were nothing more than faded memories. He was surprised to find a tall, slender, dark-haired woman in leather and mail in the yard, even more so when he saw that she was striding in his direction.

"Jon Snow, I'm Dacey Mormont," she said quickly once she'd reached him. "You must come with me." Mormont?

No mistaking that Northern accent and a spark of recognition of her at Winterfell hit him. But he had never dared speak to the beautiful heir to Bear Island. Most men were terrified of her, hearing tales of her volatile rejections of previous advances. Jory laughed and warned Jon and Robb to not even make eye contact.

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and stalked back in the direction from which she'd come, heading towards the part of the castle that remained undamaged. Jon followed her, wondering why the Mormont heir herself was here and looking for him. Had no one told her of her uncle's death? But she was heading to some of the men's chambers, not her uncle's former quarters. He was startled to see Northmen guarding the door, and recognized the sigils of Houses Tallhart and Manderly. Had Robb come?

"What's happened?" he asked as he followed her through the door. There were two further guards within, one young man bearing the familiar grey direwolf of House Stark, though his face was not one that Jon knew, and a tall man the sigil of House Wull emblazoned on his tunic. He wondered briefly at this assortment of Northmen. He hadn't seen a man from the mountain clans since he was very small.

Then he heard it. A woman's scream pierced the room and his heart froze in his chest as he realized who it was. Deirdre. He pushed past the guards until he saw her, belly huge with child and clearly in distress.

"Jon," she cried out, reaching for him. He rushed to her side and cupped her face in his hands tenderly, wiping a tear away with his thumb. She reached up and grasped his wrists, closing her eyes, and inhaling deeply.

"How are you here?" he asked, his mind unable to comprehend her presence. "Where's Robb?"

Before she could answer, another pain hit her and she cried out again, clutching his arm tightly. He reached down to take her hand, glancing at Dacey in confusion. When Deirdre fell silent again except for deep breaths, the other woman spoke softly.

"The king, most of his bannermen and their men attended the wedding of Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey at the Twins, as a way to reforged a peaceful alliance between the king and the Freys. After the bedding ceremony, the Freys and Boltons slaughtered every Northmen they could, though we were unarmed. The queen had been left behind in the camp with the rest of the men out of caution and we were able to escape with her in the chaos of the attack. His Grace, your brother had instructed us to take her to the Wall were anything to happen to him…" Dacey paused, swallowing hard. "He knew, if he fell, his child would be hunted down even if they had to rip it from her womb."

"Robb isn't dead," Deirdre replied, her gaze determined. "He can't be. I would know if he were dead!"

Dacey looked pained before she continued, "Lady Catelyn, most of King Robb's bannermen and their men are dead. It is possible that the king is dead as well. The survivors are either captives or scattered to the wind, my lord. House Bolton has betrayed us in the worst way and we suspect that Tywin Lannister may have had a hand in this as Lord Bolton has been made Warden of the North."

Jon could barely think straight, much less speak. His brother could be dead? Robb… He mustn't think on that now, not with Deidre and the impending birth. What madness had driven Robb to send her to the Wall of all places? Deirdre squeezed his hand again and he looked at her.

Spying the maester, Jon asked, "Maester Aemon, can you deliver this baby?"

"I was trained to. But that was decades ago, although it's done the same way I'm sure. Obviously, I haven't had many occasions to deliver babes at Castle Black," Aemon admitted. "I can walk someone through it, if someone will be my eyes."

"I'll fetch Pyp and the midwife from Mole Town," Jon replied. To Dacey, he said, "Does anyone else know of her whereabouts, or is she presumed dead as well?"

"We were pursued a few times that night, so they know she survived the attack at the Twins. But we haven't seen anyone since we reached Greywater Watch, thank the gods."

Jon took a wet cloth from Aemon and wiped Deirdre's brow. He couldn't think about Robb now. He'd push away that grief until later, after his brother's child was born. Glancing down, he realized again how filthy he was, and moved away from the bed. He didn't want to get blood or dirt on Deirdre or the babe, not when they were so vulnerable.

"Deirdre, I must clean all this soot and filth of me before I can help you further. I'll return with some help. I won't be gone long," he promised her, gently kissing her forehead. She nodded silently, reluctant to release his hand.

As he tore across the yard to his chambers, he considered what he'd seen and learned, and his thoughts turned to Deidre. While she was still just as beautiful, she had a distant, haunted look to her, and sorrow hung about her like a mantle. She had been at Robb's side throughout this entire war, a war that had placed her against her own family. Jon had no idea what she'd witnessed, who she had mourned, but he knew what he'd lost himself, and wondered if she could bear the pain of the grief if Robb was truly gone. And now she was here at the Wall, one of the most dangerous places in Westeros right now, with Mance Rayder's wildlings soon to attack. Jon had no place to send her, and knew whoever had planned the attack on his brother would be coming for her and the child. He would be damned if he'd let them come to harm, however, brother of the Night's Watch or not.

Washing himself as quickly as he could and donning clean clothes, he went to find Pyp and the people from Mole Town. Castle Black remained frenzied and disordered after the battle with the Thenns, so it took him longer than he would have liked. When he finally found Pyp, he explained the basics of what was happening and Pyp helped him find the midwife, an older, squashy woman with kind eyes, called Gin. The three of them made their way to the chambers where he'd left Deirdre, and were stopped by two new guards, both from House Umber. The guards eyed Pyp and Gin suspiciously.

"I'm Jon Snow and they're here to help," Jon explained and the guards looked skeptically at the other. "She's a midwife."

"Lady Mormont ordered that no one be allowed save you or herself, my lord," the older guard said. Turning to his companion, he ordered him to check with her. When the younger guard hurried off, the man introduced himself as Robert Umber.

As annoyed as Jon was at the delay, Jon was glad to see that the guards appeared loyal and protective of Deirdre. He wasn't surprised. Robb wouldn't have entrusted Deirdre's safety to simply anyone.

Ah, but the camp was attacked from within. Robb had trusted the wrong people, much like their father before him. Jon studied the guard for a moment.

"Do you think my brother is dead?" he asked quietly.

Robert hesitated, then nodded slowly. "The queen believes that he lives because we haven't told her the truth, and have kept any details of his body from her. My lord, she was so close to her time that we feared she'd lose the child. Most of the Northmen's bodies were just dumped in the river. We told her there are no bodies to find. Lord Edmund Tully was taken captive, as was our lord, the Greatjon. They slaughtered his son at the feast."

"What details of Robb's body?" Jon asked curtly, feeling as though a giant had driven a sword through him. There was an odd ringing in his ears. "And I am no lord." It seemed important that the man understand that for some reason. His brother was dead. Robb.

"Begging your pardon, my lord," the man glanced away, his jaw tightened in anger. It took him a moment to collect himself. "It is said they cut him down during the feast, and afterwards, when he was already dead, they beheaded him, then sewed his wolf's head to his neck and put a crown on it as a final insult."

Stepping back and clutching the railing so hard he almost splintered the worn wood, Jon felt his rage boiling within him. He couldn't breathe. He wanted to scream and tear down those godforsaken towers, destroy every last man who'd had a hand in taking his family from him. Robb's face flashed across his mind, and Jon saw him as he'd appeared when they'd said goodbye in the training yard, cheeks flushed from the cold and snowflakes melting in his auburn curls. I'll never see him again.

But he couldn't lose control now. He had to smother all of his grief and anger until Deirdre and Robb's child was born, however much he wanted to kill someone. There would be time enough to rage at the gods for taking his family from him, for taking his brother. Jon felt Pyp's hand grip his shoulder and he was at once grateful for his brothers here.

"I'm sorry, my lord," Robert said. "We all mourn his loss, but not nearly as much as his brother must. The king knew the queen would be safest with you. We know you two must have been close." Jon could sense the man was near to tears himself when he added, "He loved her more than anything and he trusted you…his final words to Dacey were that we were to get the queen to you for protection."

Jon didn't trust himself to speak, his throat tightening. After a few minutes of silence, the younger guard, Daryn, returned and let Jon pass with Gin and Pyp behind him. Deirdre was writhing in pain as Dacey held her hand. Jon took a place on the other side of her.

"I think this babe is ready to join us," Maester Aemon told him. "Her pains are frequent enough. It must be time."

Deirdre let Gin examine her, while Jon moved to cradle her face in his hands. He'd never seen a woman in such pain, even Ygritte when she lay dying. I mustn't think of that now. He tried to distract her from it. "It won't be long now," he promised, stroking her hair back. "What do you plan to name the babe?"

"Brandon or Lyanna," she answered weakly. "Robb wanted to name him after your father, but then said that every generation of Starks had a Brandon." As another pain wracked her body, she cried out for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Jon, I can't do this. It's too much. I feel like he's ripping me in half."

"The babe is ready to come now," Gin said to him. "But she's going to have to push."

Jon glanced from Gin back to Deirdre and, seeing how exhausted she was, he had a thought. "Help me," he said to Dacey as he climbed onto the bed with Deirdre, careful not to set her on his injured leg. "Let me get behind her."

Dacey looked at him strangely but helped Jon situate Deirdre so her upper back rested against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, grabbing her hands. "Deirdre, you need to push now. Just bear down on my hands and push as hard as you can when they tell you to."

"I can't, Jon. I'm too tired. I need Robb," she sobbed and Jon shook his head at her.

"You must. You're stronger than you realize, sweetling, so I need you to do this. Do this for Robb. And do it for Bran, Rickon, and my father. Do it for the North and for House Stark, your house," he soothed, wiping her hair from her face. "You're the only one who can do this." His voice was thick with unshed tears. His heart felt torn in half as he watched her struggle to push, and he tried to help her as much as he could. She squeezed his hands until they went numb, and he lend his strength as she struggled to push. Dacey wiped the sweat from her brow, giving her words of encouragement. He could tell that she was uneasy in the role of nurturing her but Jon imagined Deirdre already knew that and just took comfort her attempts.

"I see the head," Gin exclaimed loudly.

"That is a Stark, so it will be a hard head," Jon replied and even Deirdre smiled slightly.

A few more pushes and a scream that was probably heard by the Wildlings beyond the Wall, and the babe was pulled from Deirdre. At the babe's angry cry, Gin pronounced. "It's a boy. He's beautiful." She cleaned him off and wrapped him in a fur.

Deirdre rested back against Jon, tears running down her face. "Is he healthy?"

"He's a tiny thing, but he has all his fingers and toes. And a good set of lungs as well," Gin grinned as she handed him to Deirdre.

Jon stared in wonder, his chest tightening with emotion. He kissed Deirdre's forehead and whispered, "You did it. Another red-headed Stark is born."

The baby's red hair that wasn't quite the dark auburn of Robb's hair nor the color of Sansa's or Lady Catelyn's. His hair was a little more golden, and he had bright green eyes already, which he struggled to keep open as Deirdre held him closely.

"He's so beautiful," Deirdre said, stroking her fingers down his cheek. She kissed his forehead and held him close, just feeling his warmth, for a moment. "My sweet Brandon. Your father will adore you."

"The King in the North," Dacey whispered as she looked at the baby, but Deirdre shook her head.

"The prince, while his father lives," Deirdre corrected her. Jon saw the grief etched across Dacey's face before she was able to school her features again. Deirdre thankfully hadn't noticed.

Suddenly Deirdre cried out again, startling everyone. Jon quickly took the babe and pushed him at Dacey.

"What's wrong with her?" Jon shot at Gin. Deirdre stiffened in his arms and grabbed his scarred hand tightly as she sobbed.

"There's another babe," Gin said in surprise.