TMR/TBS Imagines

Jojen // Sick (Pt.2) *REQUEST*

* A part 2 to this imagine was requested by April1889  I wasn't sure where to go with it, but I think it turned out okay but it is very short... sorry! Again, I've never watched Game of Thrones so I hope all of this makes sense with the series. *

-- eight months later --

"How do you feel?" Jojen asked, biting the skin around his nails. A few moments ago, I had become too tired to stand thanks to the extra weight sitting on my stomach. My perturbed belly stuck out as far as it could, stretching the skin on it, and on my breasts and thighs.

"I'm fine, Jojen. The baby's taking a lot out of me that's all," I assured him, situating myself back on the bed. The months of my pregnancy were boring but easy, with Jojen stuck to my side to help in any way he could.

If I ever needed anything, Jojen was always the first person to be there assist me. After leaving Bran in the hands of the Three Eyed Raven all those months ago, we returned home with Jojen feeling a weight lifted off his shoulder. He knew he was given the sight to help Bran, and he felt accomplished since he had done exactly that.

He still had visions, and they came just as often, but they were of happy things. He could dream of me, of the little boy growing in my stomach, and of the future that was possible after he fought off the sickness. The sight should have killed him and he knew that, but now he had something to live for: a family.

"Will the baby have the sight?" I asked, rubbing my hand over the bump. That was my biggest fear- the baby having Jojen's dreams. Seeing the pain Jojen bared with the dreams was bad enough, knowing the gene was passed onto my son was just as heartbreaking.

Jojen took my hand in his while he sat on the edge of the bed with me. "No, the sight doesn't work like that. These dreams were given to me, so he should never get them." He placed a delicate kiss onto my knuckles and rubbed the skin on my palm with his fingers.

-- three weeks later --

The day the baby was born was mostly a blur of pain. Jojen stood beside me the whole time, whispering encouraging things while I pushed. The doctor delivered the baby and told us he was a healthy boy, not that we already didn't know.

Jojen set the baby on my chest, which somehow instantly calm the crying newborn. The baby curled its hand around Jojen's index finger, which brought a bright smile to his face.

"What are you gonna name him?" Meera asked, standing on the other side of me.

"Howland Reed," I said, still breathing heavily. "After your father." 

After a couple minutes, I told Jojen to hold him. He carefully lifted the baby, as if he was afraid he was made of glass and would break at the slightest touch, and cradled him in his arms. I swore then I had never seen anything more beautiful- my husband carrying our child.

-- six years later --

"Dada! Mama!" Howland yelled, running into Jojen and my bedroom. He climbed onto the bed and sprawled himself out over my back. Flipping over, I saw Jojen grabbing Howland and placing him in his lap.

He giggled when Jojen tickled at his stomach. The boy was almost a copy of Jojen- the same green eyes, blond hair and few freckles dotting his face.

"Tell me the story again," he squealed excitedly. Ever since Jojen told him the story of us taking Bran to the Three Eyed Raven, he hasn't stopped asking about it. He was so interested in hearing every detail of our quest. It was usually his go to 'bedtime story'.

Jojen smiled, grabbing the boy and throwing him against him on the bed, and set him between each of us.

For the first time ever, I was glad Jojen had the sight. Without it, he would have given up and let the sickness take him. But he didn't. He fought against it and now has a child and wife helplessly in love with him.