Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⟣⟡⟢
JON
Everyone at Winterfell seemed quite taken with two boys Myriah had birthed him. Ser Davos came to see them three times in the past week, while Tormund had shown up in Myriah's chamber almost every day. He made his jokes about how small the twins were and how much effort Jon must have put into getting his wife pregnant because now he had not just one, but two brats.
"'Bet you'll grow just as tall as yo' daddy." He'd say. Or he would give Jon a hard pat on the back and jest: "You know what they say 'bout men who father twins. Eh, Snow?"
To be honest, Jon didn't exactly know what they say, but he doubted it was something made for his wife's ears.
Myriah however, had slowly regained her strength and moved into the Heir's bedchamber together with the children. Spending her days rhapsodizing about her beautiful sons, she remained utterly unbothered by everything happening around her. And Sansa would keep her company rather often.
Whenever Jon entered their heated chamber, he hoped to be alone with Myriah only for a while. He waited for the right moment to bring her the bad news about her father and brother, but the right moment never came.
About ten days after Maester Wolkan had told him about the coup in Dorne, Jon found Myriah sitting at the desk in their room, melting sealing wax over a candle, while Sansa walked up and down in front of her cradling Rickard in her arms. Jon walked over to the desk and watched his wife sealing a letter with the sigil of House Martell.
"To whom are you writing?"He asked though he could guess what the answer was going to be.
"To my father," Myriah replied with a smirk. "I believe to have written the most heartbreaking apology, informed him about our situation and asked him for support. I also told him that soon we'll be sending an escort to Dorne that will bring Edrick home, who has been going by the name Edric Flowers so far. That the boy is not Humfrey Hightower bastard, but in fact, the heir to the North and my father's first grandchild."
Jon hesitated, his fingertips tapping on the wooden surface of the desk. It wasn't the right time. It was the worst time to tell her, so shortly after she had swallowed her pride and got her hopes up, and Jon cursed himself for not telling her sooner.
"Is there anything wrong, Love?" Myriah questioned him sheepishly.
"Sansa, would you mind leaving us?"
His sister exchanged some confused looks with his wife before she handed Rickard over to him and left the chamber.
"Jon?"
He could tell by the sound of her voice that she knew something unfortunate must have happened. Jon placed his son in the cradle next to his brother, watching how they immediately stretched their short arms out for each other. "Maester Wolkan had approached me only recently with news... from Dorne."
