At Winterfell…

Lady Talisa tightly gripped the bedsheets and nearest wolf pelts, shutting her eyes tightly every three minutes or so as more beads of sweat slid down her face and neck, strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks. A strike of pain hit her, and she cried out again. By the Gods it hurt so badly. Talisa had been in labor for several hours now. Her stomach felt like it was being ruptured as Maester Luwin prodded Talisa between her legs forcing liquid to rush out of her.

"That's good. You're doing well, my lady," Luwin reassured her, moistening a cloth and handing it over to one of the midwives to continuously press all over Talisa's body.

"Auuuu! Ooooh! Mnnnneeeghh!" Talisa's voice was hoarse and strained. She closed her eyes again and began to push down again.

One of the midwives, Agatha, addressed Talisa's forehead, neck, arms, breasts and stomach with cooling pressure that aided, however minimal, in the Volantene lady's relief during her laborious struggles. She wrung it out before exchanging cloths with another.

Robb Stark hurriedly entered the room, nearly wearing himself out. "Talisa…" he murmured to her.

Talisa panted as she slowly, wearily opened her eyes. "Ooh, Robb!" she groaned through gritted teeth. "It hurts so much!"

The Young Wolf moved to his wife's bedside, clasping her hand in his. "I'm here, love. It'll be all right. I'll be right here by your side the whole time."

Panting and sharply drawing breath, Talisa pushed as hard as she could, squeezing Robb's hand really hard. Robb felt as though every bone in his hand would shatter, but he didn't care. His wife was in more pain than he was right now.

"Aargh!" Talisa exhaled sharply, dropping her head back onto the pillow to catch her breath.

Maester Luwin cleaned the sheets beneath Talisa's legs as well as his hands before diving back into the fray. "My lady," he said, trying to get her attention. "You're doing good, but I need you to hold your breath and we'll begin while you tuck in your chin."

The combination of Robb's encouragement and the flurry of action sliding from her midsection to her waist, Talisa felt her knees being brought up and her legs spread apart by three of the midwives in the room and somewhat pinned them against her chest.

"That's it. And push, push, push, push."

Talisa's contractions seemed to get more and more painful along with being increasingly more frequent. Exchanging brief glances with Robb, Talisa breathed in, closed her eyes tight again and pressed down, pushing as hard as she could.

"MMMMMNNAAAH!" Talisa bellowed.

"Breathe in and out," Robb tried to encourage his wife. "In and out—"

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" she snapped. "WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M TRYING TO DO RIGHT NOW?!"

Robb had never seen Talisa shout so much before. Not so much direct at him. But it wasn't like he expected this would happen—it was always something the Young Wolf anticipated would happen once the hour of moment had arrived at Winterfell.

Breathlessly, Talisa heaved herself forward again for another ten seconds until she was allowed another brief moment of respite. Robb stroked Talisa's hair lightly with his fingers, removing strands of wet, sticky hair away from her face.

"It'll be all right, I promise," he reassured her again. "We're in this together."

Talisa nodded, before another contraction started and she cried out in pain, the pressure beginning to grow between her legs all of a sudden.

"Nnggaahh!" she screamed, shutting her eyes tight again. "Oohh! O-Oh my! Damn it! Ooh, Robb! Auuuu, I can feel something! I feel it!"

Robb again wiped away beads of sweat appearing on Talisa's forehead as she pushed and pushed. The Young Wolf quickly recomposed himself and looked at Maester Luwin.

"How far along is she?" he asked.

Luwin narrowed his eyes before widening them. "I can see the head!" he informed them. "Keep pushing, you're almost there!"

"AHHHHHHH!" Talisa screamed again, exerting as much pressure as she could in a half-sitting position. She squeezed Robb's hand and pushed; Talisa looked so tired and worn out, tears flown freely from her eyes. "Ngah! Owww! Gaaahh! Auuu!"

The pain was growing steadily. Talisa felt a pushing, a stretching sensation as she continued to push. Robb tracked Maester Luwin, watching as the old man pressed his fingers against his wife's maidenhead, swiveling about the taut opening the baby's head was going to be squeezed through nearly immediately.

"Shhh, shhh. It's okay. I'm here. Just breathe," Robb whispered.

"MNNNNHGGAAAA! IT'S COMING! IT'S COMING! AUUUUUAAAAHHH!"

The Young Wolf helped Talisa curl forward, a scream breaking from her already sore throat. She felt something hard and slimy began slipping out of her maidenhead, her legs feeling a sudden urge to clamp shut—but the army of midwives in the room prevented Talisa from closing her legs. With one final scream and a hard push, a tiny cry pierced the room.

"*Waaah! Waah! Waaah!*"

Robb's eyes widened and went stiff at the sound reaching his ears. Talisa winced from the sudden relief and tossed her head back onto the pillow, panting as she looked down at Maester Luwin. The old man smiled warmly as he brought his hands up, revealing a wailing newborn infant covered in a white, greasy, cheese-like substance covering its skin. Robb and Talisa looked at their firstborn child, both of them offering a relieved smile. Talisa felt tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Congratulations, you two," Maester Luwin warmly stated. "It's a boy. Red-cheeked and healthy."

"Oooh. Aho haha… a son," Talisa smiled warmly, her voice cracking with happiness and exhaustion. "Oh, look Robb, we have a son. Look at him."

Robb felt his lip beginning to tremble slightly as Luwin cut the toddler's umbilical cord and handed the new Stark over to the parents. Talisa reached out and took the crying newborn into her arms, cradling the babe as she looked down to appreciate what both she and Robb made together; the creation of a new life. Robb placed one hand around Talisa's shoulder and brought the other to touch the baby on the forehead.

"He's gorgeous," he whispered warmly.

The midwives curtsied. "Congratulations, Lord Stark."

"Congratulations," Luwin said. "So, what do you two plan on calling him?"

Before Robb could open his mouth to say anything, Talisa was the first to speak up.

"I know of a name," she said quietly.

Robb looked at his wife, raising an eyebrow with amusement. "Oh, do you now?" he replied humorously. "It seems to me that the father should at least have some say in the naming of his son, don't you think?"

Tired and worn out, Talisa responded, "Eddard. I want to name him Eddard."

Robb was caught off-guard; taken completely by surprise. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped slightly, the Young Wolf was at a loss for words at the thought of his firstborn son and heir being named after his late father Lord Eddard Stark. Talisa intended to honor the memory of the man she had never met, but Robb slowly gathered himself and nodded.

"Eddard," he repeated.

Talisa nodded. "Eddard."

Maester Luwin still smiled; lowering his head in acknowledgment. "Eddard of House Stark, son of Lord Robb and Lady Talisa Stark… Your father would be very proud, my lord, or flattered considering you chose to name your son after him."

Talisa chuckled, watching Robb shook his head with amusement.

"It's decided then. I'll prepare the ravens at once."

Bowing his head in acknowledgment, Maester Luwin left the room along with the midwives—leaving Robb and Talisa alone with their newborn son, watching the happy couple fawning over little Eddard. Luwin ascended the steps to the rookery and worked to prepare to send ravens flying across the North; from Greywater Watch to Last Hearth, each raven would arrive bearing the news of the birth of the Warden of the North's heir. Half-Volantene, half-Northmen… the boy was brought into this world with the lineage dating back to the First Men and Old Valyria. Many would eventually come bearing gifts, but others… Only a select few would dare bring scorn and disapproval.

"Tell me," Talisa asked, still feeling worn out. "Do you still intend on teaching our little Ned Stark how to ride horses?"

Robb kissed her forehead. "I do, love. I do."

At the Red Keep…

King Daveth and Ser Barristan continued rushing through the halls of the Red Keep upon hearing word of Queen Sansa's delivery. The Young Stag had been absent for so long it almost made him forget that this moment was bound to arrive at any moment—and he hated himself for doing that. Following Tommen up the stairs, the trio ran by Tyrion Lannister.

"Ah, nephew! There you are. We've been looking everywhere for—Umph!" the Imp tried to get his attention, but was accidently knocked aside. Getting back up, Tyrion dusted himself off as Daveth continued into the next room. "Ah, I suppose I should've been expecting that…" he shook his head and followed close behind him.

"It's just right up here," Tommen mentioned and stopped moving.

Daveth and Barristan were near the room just as the sound of Sansa's contraction came into play again, the noise was as loud as it was long.

"GAAAAAAAHHH!" Sansa screamed.

The shriek was so loud it was almost deafening; the sound nearly made Daveth cover his ears, but he remained still. This was just as big day for him as it was to everyone else in King's Landing. Daveth was about to be a father soon, and he promised himself that he would not be the kind of man to his children like his own father King Robert was to him. The Young Stag steeled himself, and turned to Barristan and Tommen.

"The two of you stand guard. I'll call for you when we're done—"

"Auuuu! Owwww! Uuhhh!"

Daveth winced; the sound was almost blood-curdling. A chill went up and down his spine, making him shudder.

'Seven hells, what are you still doing out here? Get in there!' he berated himself.

Moving his feet in motion, Daveth pushed the door open and stepped inside the room. Sansa was already throwing her head back as she let out another wail, gripping the bedsheets while Grand Maester Pycelle was already at work between her spread legs. Shae dabbed a piece of cloth on Sansa's forehead and neck, wiping off beads of sweat; the pain was horrible. Sansa kept her eyes shut tight and felt pressure as the baby continually moved down with each push. She'd been gradually getting more tired with each push.

"Sansa!" Daveth moved to her bedside.

Sansa opened one eye before shutting it again as she was hit with another contraction. "Wh… where have you been?!" she gritted her teeth through the pain.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here now," he replied, taking one of her hands into his own.

Pycelle briefly lifted his head before lowering it back down. "Eh, a-another push now i-if you would please, Your Grace," he said.

The picture of such a sour old man poking his wrinkled fingers up Sansa's little pink cunt was enough to infuriate Daveth, but Shae was insistent on letting the Grand Maester do his job to help deliver the royal children. Under normal circumstances the Young Stag wouldn't have let Pycelle anywhere near the Wolf Queen, only relenting when the contractions kept running into each other.

"Push, Your Grace."

Sansa bit her lip to hold in a scream, whining as she bore down and pushed again, her body aching terribly. She squeezed Daveth's hand. Feeling the baby moving down was one of the most painful experiences of her life and she couldn't help but whimper again as Sansa threw her head back to catch her breath and started to cry.

"Aahhh uggghhhh! I-it hurts! It hurts!" she sobbed.

"Wait until you've birthed a child. [...] The idea of bringing little Princes and Princesses into the world, it is the greatest honor for a Queen," Cersei's voice rung through her head. "You cannot imagine the pain. I screamed so loudly I was sure Robert would hear me in the kingswood."

Panting and feeling beads of sweat trickling down her face, Sansa now finally understood what her mother-in-law Cersei Lannister was talking about in regards to undergoing her first childbirth two years ago. Sure it was technically considered an honor for a Queen and had already mentally prepared herself for this moment, but Sansa never could've imagined that she'd endure such excruciating pain of this scale. In her mind, it felt like getting internally stabbed repeatedly over and over again.

"I know it does, Your Grace, but you can do this. We're here to help you see this through," said Shae reassuringly.

As Tyrion quietly made his way into the same room, Daveth nodded at his wife. "You can do this, Sansa. I know you can. I believe in you."

"Daveth will show you an even greater devotion than Robert did with me. You could thank him for striving to be a different kind of man than his father; no doubt he's already told you the stories. Robert shamed and humiliated me, but Daveth will do no such thing to you."

Taking deep and steady yet sharp breaths, her chest and abdomen rose and falling rapidly, Sansa looked at her husband—she hissed through her teeth, moaned in pain and felt increasing pressure from her waist down, yet it couldn't prevent Sansa from feeling a sense of love and comfort emanating from her husband. Despite every obstacle they endured, Daveth was standing beside her throughout her pregnancy—holding her hand and whispering words into her ear, telling her how he loves her and held her close to him. Even now with tears welling up in her eyes before tumbling down her cheeks, Sansa felt a sense of safety and comfort.

Applying wet cloths, Pycelle spread her vaginal lips a bit further apart as the Grand Maester noticed the Wolf Queen's cervix gradually opening on its own. "Ah! I-I can see the head now, Your Grace. Won't be long now; now, ah, p-please push for me just a little bit more."

"You can do this," Daveth encourages her, massaging her back. "Breathe in, breathe out."

"Oooh I hate you so much right now…" Sansa said through clenched teeth and tightly closed eyes before pressing down again, exerting as much push as she could. "AAAAAGGGHHH! UUUUUHHHHHH! OWWWW! NNNEEGGHHH! AAH-AAH!"

Down below, Pycelle withdrew his fingers and gently placed his hands around the neck, the tiny shoulders, the little body… gently pulling on the baby with every pressure Sansa applied to her body.

"V-Very good, Your Grace! Keep pushing!"

"I AM PUSHING! WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M DOING?!" Sansa cried, feeling as though she were about to pass out, her first baby was so close to coming she could feel her cervix stretching as the child moving slightly downwards, pain gripped her as the pressure became worse.

"It's all right now. You're almost there," Daveth exclaimed as he helped maneuver his wife into a half-sitting position.

"OOOHHHHH! AAAGGGHHH!"

Sansa looked tired and worn out; she gripped Daveth's hand and squeezed. No matter what, she intended to go through with this. She was not going to give up despite the pain. In whatever she did, Sansa reminded herself that she is a Stark, she was going to finish what she had set out to do. And this time, it was no difference.

"UUURRRRAAAGGHHHHH!"

With one final scream and one great big push, the sound in the room was replaced from exclamations and shouts of encouragement to a loud, piercing cry.

"*WAAH! WAAH! WAAH!*"

Slumping back a bit, exhausted and worn out, Queen Sansa Stark panted as she wearily looked down as Grand Maester Pycelle lifted a small, crying newborn in his arms.

"Congratulations, Your Grace. Well done, I must say! It's a boy."

Sansa smiled weakly. "C-can I… can I see him?" she asked.

Pycelle cut the umbilical cord, cleaned off the wailing infant as Shae hurriedly took the newborn from the old man's arms. The Lorathi prostitute-turned-handmaiden smiled warmly as she lowered the baby enough for Sansa to gently brush her hand against her child's warm rosy cheek.

"Hello, little one," the Wolf Queen cooed. "Hi. I'm your mama."

Daveth took in the sight before him. Sansa Stark panted heavily and laid her head down on the pillows, sweat glistening on her face, smiled as she kept her weary teary eyes glued on her son as Shae began wrapping the baby in a warm blanket. It would appear that maternal instincts were coming naturally to her. However…

"AAOOW! AAAH!" Sansa's eyes shot wide open, stood straight back up and began screaming again.

The Young Stag was taken aback by this sudden return of pain and agony. What was going on here? Why was Sansa still in pain?

"W-wait a moment now! H-hold on a moment!" Pycelle quickly interjected, spreading Sansa's legs apart again. "I-I don't think w-we're quite done yet, Your Grace!"

Both Daveth and Sansa turned their heads to the Grand Maester. "Gods preserve us! Are we having twins?!" they exclaimed simultaneously.

Tyrion slightly cringed at the witnessing childbirth up-close and personal. "It would certainly seem that way," he mused.

Instinctively, Sansa felt her muscles tightening and pressed down again. "AAAWOOO! NGAAAH!" she screeched.

The sounds she was making deeply upset the firstborn baby and it began to cry again. Shae did her best to cover the child's ears; even with so, Sansa resumed her continuous bout of wailing. Daveth held Sansa close as she began sobbing into his chest.

"Please, Daveth, please! I don't want to do this anymore," she cried. "Make it stop! By the Old Gods and the New, please make it stop!"

The Young Stag felt utterly helpless. He didn't want to see Sansa in this much pain, but there was literally nothing he could do to make it all go away. The only thing that could make this end was for Sansa to push this second child out of her womb as quickly as possible. Resigning herself to the scenario, the Wolf Queen resumed pushing through panting breaths.

"DAVETH BARATHEON, YOU ARE NOT SHARING OUR BED TONIGHT!"

Daveth didn't say anything.

"DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

"Yeah, yeah," he simply answered and kept rubbing her back. He knew that deep down Sansa didn't mean what she said.

"Oooohhh! NEVER— Auuuuu!— AGAIN."

Pycelle interrupted her rank. "Your Grace, I-I think it would be wise to-to push again."

"Oh, really?! I never would have guessed!" Sansa snapped back. The back of her legs were held up again and she pressed down again. "GAAAAHHHH!"

"You're a-almost there, Your Grace. The head is almost out!"

Shae dabbed Sansa's face again with a wet cloth; Tyrion, curious, couldn't help but try to sneak a peek—unfortunately for him, the Wolf Queen saw that.

"DON'T. YOU. EVEN. THINK ABOUT IT, TYRION LANNISTER!" she hissed with staggered breaths.

Shae turned and saw that, frowning deeply and smacked Tyrion upside the head. The Imp flinched at the hit, playfully shrugging his shoulders in innocence.

"One or two more pushes," Pycelle contended.

Sansa collected herself. She was very tired and took a moment to gather her strength. "UUURRRR!"

Daveth kissed Sansa's forehead, still massaging her back. "You're almost there, love. You can do this. Keep pushing."

Exhausted and out of breath, Sansa felt her hair sticking to her face again due to so much sweat. She was drained. Her throat was hoarse and incredibly sore from all the screaming it felt as if she damaged her vocal cords. Yet the Wolf Queen knew it wouldn't be much longer now and she wanted to hold both her babies in her arms.

"Oh my— The head's out," proclaimed Pycelle. "Just one more push, Your Grace."

Supported by Daveth, Sansa got back into her half-sitting position and beared down with all her might. All Sansa thought about was her babies. Her exhaustion gone, her fear vanished… she wanted to see her children. She needed to hold them.

"MMMMNNNNAAAHHH!"

With every ounce of energy she summoned, Sansa gave one final push and flopped back down onto the pillow to rest her head. She didn't feel a thing but she could hear another cry pierce the room.

"*WAAH! WAAH! WAAH!*"

Daveth turned to look at Pycelle, as did Sansa who exhaustedly lifted her head up to have a look. She panted heavily, tears had stained her cheeks and couldn't stop staring.

"Well done, Your Grace," the Grand Maester congratulated, holding up the second child for all to see. The second newborn baby was pink and was crying just as loudly as the elder twin. "It's a girl."

As Pycelle again cut the umbilical cord and Shae again wrapped the infant in a warm blanket. Daveth stared at the tiny little thing; Sansa, with tears running down her cheeks freely, cried. Shae took both infants wailing in protest—their eyes closed, mouths wide open—and laid them both on Sansa's chest, cleaning the younger twin so the new royal parents could see them.

"Oooh my, they're so adorable… Our children, Daveth," she choked a sob, staring at each of her twins in her arms with eyes full of tears; her son and daughter. For the first time since her wedding, Sansa felt her heart swell with love and joy. She was truly happy. She now had entered into a new chapter in her life: motherhood.

Ariyana and Brienne smiled, as did Shae, Tyrion, Tommen and Barristan—the three of whom had entered the room. Each of them clapped their hands in applause, praising the birth of the new royal children.

"Congratulations, Your Grace," Brienne spoke.

Ariyana nodded. "Excellent work."

"Congratulations, brother," Tommen smiled kindly. "You too, Sansa."

"Congratulations, my King and Queen," Barristan patted Daveth on the back.

Tyrion couldn't help but resist grinning. "Indeed. I do believe congratulations are in order on this historic day, nephew. Well done."

Daveth stared at his children in Sansa's arms. He was at a complete loss for words. The Young Stag reflected back on his early childhood and his earlier memories flooded with his upbringing with his father King Robert and his mother Queen Cersei; for a long time, he pushed himself to strive forward, declaring to himself that he would not be the kind of father to his children like Robert was to him.

'I am many things, father. Do you hear me? I will not be the kind of father to my children like you were to me,' he thought.

"So… what are you going to call them?" asked Tommen.

"Yes, Your Graces," Tyrion agreed. "What are you going to call them? I have a list of names if you'd like to look."

Sansa looked at Daveth. They both planned this long, yet now they must decide on a name for the newborn Prince and Princess. Daveth looked at both his children; the babies were small with a full head of black hair… and shades of blue in their eyes as soon as they were able to open them. He looked as Sansa hummed a sweet melody as she opened her white gown and nestled her twin babies in her bosom, nursing them at her own breasts despite suggestions from the midwives to delegate the task to a wet nurse. Sansa had quickly adjusted into her new role as a mother quite well.

The Young Stag looked at his son. "Lyonel," he broke the silence.

Sansa listened closely, respecting her husband's decision to name their son.

"Ah, a name derived from the Stormlands honoring the Laughing Storm himself, no less," Tyrion noticed. "Very well, Your Grace, but what about the girl?"

Sansa looked at her newborn daughter, still suckling from her right breast. "Cassana," she decided.

The gathered guests pondered the given names, each giving their own respected opinions before nodding their heads in acknowledgment before leaving the room to allow the two a moment of privacy. Grand Maester Pycelle was the last to leave; announcing his intention to have the ravens in the rookery spread the word across Westeros of the news. Once for sure they were finally alone, Daveth chose to lay beside his wife Sansa on the bed, kissing her cheek as she choked another sob with a smile spreading across her face.

"You did good, Sansa," he told her.

Sansa sniffled and nodded tiredly, turning her head to face Daveth and kissed him. "He looks like you," she said, indicating their son.

Daveth examined him. "And she looks like you," he replied, indicating their daughter. "See there? Look. She's got your face. She'll be a great beauty just like her mother."

"Will she now?" she said softly. "Well, our son has your nose. And he'll be just as strong and handsome like his father."

Daveth blushed slightly, briefly scratching the back of his head. "I'll… I'll always be here for them. Our children will have the best of both worlds. I swear it. I'll protect all three of you. You have my word."

Sansa smiled sleepily. "I know you will, love," she said to him as the midnight skies appeared outside the castle walls.

With the moon shining bright, rays of the moon shined into the bedchamber. As Sansa drifted off to sleep, Daveth quietly took Lyonel and Cassana to their makeshift cribs beside their own bed. He'd stand guard if he'd have to, but that was an assignment delegated to the Kingsguards Brienne of Tarth and Ariyana Dayne. They had personally volunteered. And it wasn't long before Daveth felt the need for sleep too. Disrobing into a white shirt, the Young Stag climbed into bed beside his sleeping wife.

"I love you, Sansa Stark," he whispered sleepily before drifting off.

"Mmm. I love you too, Daveth Baratheon," she replied before returning to sleep.

'And… thank you… for everything,' he thought to himself.

The two wanted this moment to last, but that could wait another day. Come morning, both the King and Queen will be presenting their children to the court. All the lords and ladies from across Westeros would soon gather to King's Landing to see their new Prince and Princess. Again, such an occasion can wait another day. For now, the royal family needed a much deserved slumber.

Chapter End

Author's Note: Well, that completes part two. And there you have it! Each of the Stark and Baratheon children have successfully made their way into the world. What do you guys think? Were the names appropriate? What'll Catelyn and Arya Stark react upon hearing news from the capital city? What'll Barristan think, or Tommen or even Jaime in the meanwhile? I'll let you guys think about that. Quite an adventure the Oathkeeper has been going on; and now a new chapter will begin in Robb's, Daveth's and Sansa's lives. Thoughts? Let me know.

unnamed visitor: I have been reading this story since the beginning, I think you have come a long way and your writing is amazing. This has been a very good example of a Sansa/OC and I very much like your creation of Daveth Baratheon. I am very happy for Daveth/Sansa and I think motherhood will suit Sansa perfectly. I also think it was icing on cake to see Daveth by Sansa's side as she gave birth and that she gave birth to twins. I also like the names they picked out for their children.

I was very sad/disappointed about Tywin Lannister's death, he was one of my many favorite characters. While I am glad that Cersei is rotting in hell where she belongs, I kind of wish that she had lived long enough to have learned that she had all but killed her own father. I was also hoping for a couple more Tywin/Arya scenes. Since they were all but on the same side, I would have liked to have seen some scenes between Tywin/Catelyn as well. I consider Tywin/Catelyn a perfect example of a very odd AU couple. I also have a soft spot for Tywin's brother Kevan, and I cannot help but think about Kevan/Catelyn as another odd couple. Maybe you could add in a few scenes of them in this story.

What has really gotten my imagination running wild is Bran's journey beyond the wall and his family's reaction to the news. Given what he had done to Bran, I wonder when Jaime is going to find out and what his reaction will be to Bran being beyond the wall. Keep up the excellent work and please hurry-up and update ASAP.

P.S. Is the official RLJ theory going to play a part in this AU.

―RE: RLJ theory? Yes.

Hero mandelorian: I'm not crying there's just something in my eyes. Very well done.

chase manaena: this was great hope there is more

LunaEvanna Longbottom: I'm glad that you chose to make the younger twin a girl.

Silent Wolf Singer: Wow, and I thought Sansa would take her threat of not sleeping in the same bed. This was great.

10868letsgo: Love It! The babies names are so adorable! Can't wait for the North and Stormlands to see the babies.

alexaguamenti: The babies are here! I love this story so much. Thanks for the update!

C.E.W: Thanks for putting happy time in there, considering we know game of thrones. Its good to have a good moment in there.

ALPHAomega239: Love the story so far. Stupid question, though. With Cersei dead, Baelish dead, Qyburn dead, the War of the Five Kings averted, Joffrey not on the throne, House Stark still intact, the Red Wedding and the Purple Wedding averted, the caches of wildfire gone, the Sparrows not in power, Tommen and Myrcella living...

HOW DOES THIS AFFECT THE NIGHT KING COMING TO WESTEROS?

―Strategically speaking I believe the Seven Kingdoms would stand united and would possibly be in a far better position if the Night King were to ever march south, provided that everyone awaits the Baratheon-Targaryen 2.0 conflict to make its way onto the scene. The way things stand right now, I'll just be examining each bit piece by piece whilst waiting for HBO to release Season 8 in April 2019. Not ruling anything out yet; just keeping my options open.

mpowers045: "Sniffing" Goddamn it! It's so touching!

ZabuzasGirl: Yeah! Twins!
Thank you!

Hear My Fury: Aww! That was great! I almost cried! And not only that but I like the names. I figured Lyonel for a boy, but I never figured Cassana for a girl. I thought maybe Lyarra but not bad! Congrats to both the Starks and Baratheons!

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

―Thanks.

Zurver: Thanks a lot for the update. Can't wait to read the next part. Also tysm for putting Tommen more in the story, it'd be nice to see more of him now in this story.

―You're welcome!