I'm not completely sure where this came from but it was a plot bunny that demanded writing!
She leant back against the pillows, utterly drained of all energy. Despite her clear exhaustion there was a smile on her lips as she listened to her child's indignant cries. The midwives finished wiping the infant clean and they place him in her arms. With the instinct of a mother she shifted her son to her breast and he began to feed hungrily, placated at last.
"My lady-" one of the midwives began but is swiftly cut off.
"My dear, how are you?" Tyrion strode straight to the bed his wife was reclining on.
"We are both well, my lord." Sansa lifted her son and offered him to her husband, "Would you care to hold him?"
Tyrion's face lit up as he held the child for the first time.
"What shall we call him, Tyrion?"
"Would you like to choose my dear? After all you did all the work." His mouth twitches slightly as he says this, looking up momentarily from his precious burden.
"I couldn't possibly."
"Might I suggest Robert?"
Her eyes fill with tears of gratitude at his words.
"For our beloved former king, surely a sign of respect for your father's close friend and my good brother could not be misinterpreted."
"Of course not, thank you Tyrion."
"You are entirely welcome my dear," Her husband smiled gently as he returned the child to his mother's loving embrace, "We shall leave you to rest."
With that he turned away from her and ushered the midwives from her chamber with a meaningful and effective look.
Tyrion himself paused in the doorway, "I am truly grateful to you for this child, Sansa. But I believe that there is someone who is equally eager to make Robert's acquaintance."
"Jon!" Sansa gasped in delight as he emerged behind Tyrion who slipped away silently, unnoticed, closing the chamber door behind him.
"Sansa!" He stopped himself as he caught sight of the child slumbering quietly in her arms.
"Would you like to hold him, Jon?" She shyly offered.
He hesitated, torn between his want to hold the infant and his fear of causing inadvertent pain either to the precious child or the woman before him.
Sansa smiled gently, understanding why he wavered. "It's ok Jon, you won't hurt him. He's asleep and I know he wants to meet you."
At that Jon moved closer to the bed, fixated on the child. On Robert. On his second chance.
When Jon was sitting beside her on the bed Sansa lifted her son and placed him into Jon's arms. Their eyes met, Tully blue and Stark grey, caught in the beauty and comfort and safety of that moment.
Her hair fans over the pillow, a flame against the white linen, stunning in its contrast. He pauses for a moment, appreciating how truly beautiful this woman is.
"Stunning."
She looks at him quizzically for a heartbeat before laughing.
He gives an answering chuckle, tracing a line only he can see from the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, down to her naval, and lower.
She has stopped her laughter now and it is replaced with breathy gasps and moans and pleas, sweat beading over her body.
"If you stop now I swear by all the gods you will regret it Jon!"
"Would I do that to you?" His grey eyes sparkle with mischief.
"Yes!"
There is no more speaking as their bodies move together, perfectly matched as they circle higher and higher until they collapse back to the bed. The firelight plays over their skin, casting it in gold, the sweat drying on their skin as their breathing slows gradually.
"Sansa, you are in all honesty the most amazing woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing." He leans over, tucking a lock of her luscious hair behind her ear.
"It has certainly be pleasurable meeting you, good sir."
He laughs, luxuriating in her company and her wit.
The child's cry breaks their connection.
"His name is Robert." Jon glanced up sharply at this. "For the former king of course."
"Of course." Jon had thought that was a figment of his imagination, for surely Tyrion Lannister hadn't given his wife permission to name his heir after a disgraced rebel.
He handed Robert back to Sansa and stood, his eyes softening at the sight of the child cradled in his mother's arms once more.
"Goodnight Sansa."
"Goodnight Jon."
He walked towards the door, hesitating before the door before turning on his heel and striding back to the bed.
"Sansa, is he-"
"Yes, Jon. He is." Her face was full of love at the joy lighting up his very being.
Jon leant down and stroked his son's face gently with one of sword calloused fingers.
Sansa's eyes filled with moisture again, when one fell onto Jon's battle scarred hand he looked up in consternation.
"What is it my love? Would you like me to leave?" The tears fell more frequently at his return to the reserved, stoic Commander.
"No! Never! My love if I had it my way…" Her words trailed off as she gazed at him. "It is only that he has your eyes, and your nose."
"But he has your hair, which is surely a good thing!"
Sansa managed a watery laugh at that although it caught in her throat.
He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled gently. She leaned towards him and pressed her mouth to his.
He responded eagerly, slanting his lips firmly over hers, tracing a line along the seam of her lips. She sighed and he coaxed her mouth open, exploring familiar territory. Their tongues tangled together, a dance they could never forget, regardless of time or distance.
They parted as need for breath compelled them.
"Goodnight Sansa." He stood up regretfully and walked towards the door again.
"Goodnight my love." Jon turned at her low voice and looked back at his child and the woman whom he loved more than any other being in this sorry land. They were bathed in firelight and in that instance he knew that he was looking at everything he could ever have hoped for and everything he could never have.
Surely there was a god laughing somewhere. If not what was fate's excuse?
Again I'm not completely sure how I feel about the ending (definitely a theme here!) but this is the one I liked the most : ) please let me know what you though!