Jon.

&& OPEN

     ❝ I will give her to the maester, the wet nurse- - - someone who will know what to do ❞, he turned his back to pour himself another glass of wine. He had been speaking less and drinking more since the small babe had been placed in his arm, since he had to light her mother’s funeral pyre; Val had met the same fate as her sister, her life leaving her whilst birthing the life inside her. 

          She had been just his age when she’d given him to Ned. Rhaegar and Elia were dead, and she knew Robert would kill him, too. But there was no one coming for this baby, she was safe in Jon’s arms, miserable as he was. She shook her head, raven hair falling over her shoulder. “It’s alright, my love. I’m here.” A hesitant step forward. He would have to make room for the pain, learn to live with it, as she had. In his own time, she knew he would. The pack survives. “Let me have a look at my granddaughter.”