15 Years into the Reign of King Jon (Part One)
He's ticking off the list of things he needs to do in his head, ignoring the voice in it that is urgently flashing warnings at him that his time is already up. It's moving too fast, faster than the other times. He shakes it off and heads towards the chamber door.
"Jaime." Her voice is strained and he winces hard before turning slowly back to look at her. She's hunched over the chair, her arms shaking with the effort to hold herself up right.
"No." He says firmly as she takes a long staggered breath, reaching her long arm to the bedpost and making her way to the bed. Her upper body pitches forward a bit more.
"You can't tell me no." Her voice is high and indignant and he would have laughed if she hadn't moaned just a bit at the end. His shoulders slump and he goes to her, pressing his right arm against her back and taking her hand in his.
"I just did." He holds her steady as she moves herself onto the mattress, her fingernails marking his upper arm with her free hand.
"Sansa says wildling women leave their houses and squat alone in a field. Would that be more to your liking?" She accuses, her teeth coming to rest on her lower lip. He presses a kiss to her damp forehead.
"I am not asking you to squat alone in a fucking field. I'm asking you to wait for the damn maester." His hand pulls back from hers and flutters across her tight abdomen, stroking it until the rigidity recedes.
"It's not up to me." She's incredulous now.
"Isn't it?" He sounds generally curious and she snorts.
"We've done this three other times you know." She reminds him.
"And each damn time you managed to wait for the Maester."
"Well he better hurry." Jamie looks up at the quickening of her breath and his face morphs into a look of irritation. "I'm so sorry this is inconveniencing you!" She shouts before crying out. "Jaime!"
"Alright.." He soothes as her hand gripped at his lame limb with enough fury to rip the rest of it off. "It's alright."
He presses her back towards the pillows, unties her dressing gown and let it slip open. She cries again, her back arching up towards him as he cupped his hand carefully in slow curves around her abdomen until she dropped back again. It's properly started now, and he goes through the motions he's seen seven of the eight times his children had arrived. He peels his hand away from her, and wets a washcloth before wiping between her legs, bracing one against his shoulder and the other against his right elbow.
"Anything?" She whispers wearily with just a hint of hope in her voice.
"Nothing yet." He breaths easily, more hopeful she may make it til the maester arrived. She lets out a frustrated huff and he runs his fingers over the top of her thigh.
"It's so fast this time." Her chest rises and falls quickly. "I shouldn't complain."
"Remember all the hours with Tom?" He muses.
"I mostly remember all the screaming." Brienne's eyes flutter back for a second and he watches her swallow. She'd screamed until she was hoarse and Jaime thought his heart was going to break. He smooths his hand across her body, feeling the contraction start again.
"Yes I was quite loud wasn't I?" He teases and she laughs before it turns choppy and fearful, one of her hands grasping out for his while the other clutched the back of her knee. Jaime's experienced eye watches for the first sliver of the baby's head.
"I see him." His steady voice calls above her groan.
"Oh thank Gods." She breaths before seizing again, her foot planting against his shoulder, he leaned in firmly against her to keep from being pushed from the bed. "Jaime."
"I'm here." He reminds her, like she's somehow not noticed him; her hand clawing at his arm, his hand pressing back her right thigh.
"Last one." She shakes her head fiercely. "I mean it Jaime, I do! This time I-. Gods!" She pushes hard and he steadies them.
"More. More. More." He coaches rapidly. "Good that was Good. A little bit longer." He moves his hand to cup her face. "Just a little bit longer and he's here."
"Seven Hell's it bloody hurts." She pants as he draws a clean cloth across her face.
"You never have to do it again if you don't want to." He promises.
"I won't." She answers, her breath picking up again.
"You say that every time." He smiles.
"And I mean it every time." Her words grind out, her body shaking with effort. Her hand grasping the front of his shirt before he offers her his grip.
"So much faster." He shook his head. "Almost Darling. I can almost see his whole head now."
Her breath rattled as she calmed and he realizes he's made peace with the fact that the maester won't arrive in time.
Brienne curses and cries for him at the same time, and he responds softly. Encouragingly coaxing her through the hardest part.
All at once he remembers the baths of Harrenhal, the bear pit and River Run. He sees the stained glass of Winterfell's sept and feels the smack of her palm against his cheek in Flea Bottom. He hears her voice calling him out of the darkness in the West Watch and sees the fear in her eyes when Arya blurts out that she's pregnant with Tom before she'd even had a inkling. He sees her white and swaying in the sun four years ago, just before they last time they did this very dance when Jon was born.
He was so caught up in it all that he's surprised when he sees the emerging head of his eighth born child.
"Woah." He sputters at her, quickly. "Ease up. Ease up I need my hand." She releases her death grip but there is no stopping her now and he has to rush his arms forward to cradle the tiny head when the rest of the baby slides free. He pushes it into the crook of his arm and rubs at it with his left hand until it screams and she laughs, her full throaty laugh that makes him feel lighter. "There. There."
He's pulling blankets and towels and studying the new little person between his wife's legs when he stills, a small gasp catching in his throat.
"What?" His wife yelps, reaching wearily for him. "What's wrong?"
"It's a girl." He chokes, with all the disbelief that would have come from him saying 'its a dragon.'
"A what?!" She pinches her eyebrows tight when he turns to look at her.
"A girl." A look of giddiness has taken him over.
"We don't make girls." She told him as if he had forgotten a basic truth of the universe.
He lifted the baby up to show her and her eyes widened.
"Apparently we have." He gave her a wide eyed look before her hands came forward and pulled the baby to her chest, studying the little creature closely as it wailed.
"A girl." She shakes her head. Her lips quiver as Jaime moved to her side.
"Catelyn." He breathes in her ear. "That's still what you want?" She turns her wild blue eyes to his and smiles. "Catelyn Lannister of Casterly Rock and Evenfall Hall."
"A girl." She whispers airily, turning to face him again. He ran his hand over the squalling baby's head and kissed her shoulder, holding his green eyes on his wife's amazed face. "You've always wanted a girl. You've never said it but I knew each time." He pushed back a lock of sweat drenched hair and kissed her brow. "And now I've gone and given you a girl."
She knew the few moments that he'd been Myrcella's father had made him long for another girl. Long for that feeling of holding his sweet daughter in his arms again. She watched him run his fingers over her sweet face now.
"Cat is a fitting name for a lion." He breaths as the door swings open and the winded Maester rushed in.
"I tried to tell her to wait for your Ulithi but she doesn't listen to me." Jamie said softly.
…..
A cheer goes up in the dining hall when Tyrion announces the first female Lannister child of Evenfall Hall.
Sansa blinks back tears at her name.
"It's a good thing you never used it." He wrinkles his brow. "They were sure they were destined for all boys and we had four chances to steal it."
"We've a Lyanna, a Lynara, a Theon and a Rickon." His wife reminds him wistfully. "That's enough Starks for me. Jeyne and Joanna are just fine."
He looks up at his children now, the three youngest girls all cluster around a table, as strong and lady like as their mother. Lyanna is talking with some exuberance to a tiny waif of a girl he doesn't recognize, but she obviously does. His lips flip up as his beautiful daughter suddenly looks tongue tied as the other child touches her arm. Well well, what do we have here? He thinks to himself as his gaze slides past them to his son's. Rickon's dwarfed body has started slowly falling behind his younger brother's as Theon's growth starts towards manhood. It makes him think of his brother, safe in their childhood home on the coast of the Sunset Sea. He misses him.
"I saved Catelyn for Brienne." She's studying him.
"Does it make you want another baby?" He raises his eyebrows at her honestly. "The news from the south?"
"No." She says firmly and he smiles. "We have our hands full with the six of them. "
"Humm." He slides his eyes to her before taking her hand in his and kissing her fingers. "Just checking. You have a look."
"It does however make me think of traveling to Casterly Rock." She tests, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. Tyrion let their hands drop back toward the table in shock before turning back towards her.
"We just visited six months ago." He reminds her.
"Yes. I'm aware." She sniffs. "And I was thinking for slightly more than a visit. I was thinking of Wintering there."
"You hate the south."
"Lyanna loves it. She's homesick for it." She grinned at her Lord Husband. "As are you. You miss your brother and I miss mine too. And my sister."
"There must always be a Stark-." He begins drolly tipping his head back and looking at her from the tops of his eyeballs.
"In Winterfell, yes I'm aware. Despite his protests that he is something else, my brother is still Brandon Stark of Winterfell. He can warden for a while. He'll have Ser Sandor here with him, and I can call on Tormund if I feel the need to." She shoots him a conspiratorial look. "What could possibly go wrong?"
He laughs out loud at her now, a joyous sound that makes her grin as he shakes his head and clamors to his feet.
"I will send my brother a Raven and let him know Winter is coming." Sansa grins as he kisses her cheek before heading off to find the maester.
"'What could possibly go wrong?' She says." He mutters to himself.
"Where are you going father?" Rickon calls, rushing after him.
"South apparently." He grumbles, reaching his arm around his son's shoulders as Sansa adds another mental stone to the wall of love they've built together.
…...