Dead.
Tormund had been sympathetic as he broke the news in the Great Hall when he'd returned from the war, but the shock of it had still threw her into labour. It was a difficult birth, and after she fell into a long sleep. She dreamt of him and the future they'd almost had.
Maester Wolken had smiled with relief when she'd finally came to. "I thought we lost you, My Lady."
The maester presented her with her son, swaddled in the direwolf blanket she'd made for him as she sat by the fire waiting for Jon to return. He was beautiful. He had her Tully blue eyes, but it was Jon he looked like. Only two days old and their son had a full head of black hair. Her father's hair, Arya's hair.
It was up to her to name him. It took a long time for her to decide and so the baby remained nameless for weeks.
She would not be parted from her son, he slept in Sansa's bed, the two of them nose to nose, she changed him, she bathed him, he drank from her breast. The wet nurse and master advised against it, but the would not be parted from her baby boy.
She had much to do, but she neglected everything but the care of her son. He was all that mattered now. She was a grieving widow and a new mother, so nobody expected much of her. Lord Manderly and Ser Davos saw to the running of the kingdom and Sansa hid away from the world.
Tormund came to see her in her solar a fortnight after the baby's birth, to talk to her before he headed back north.
"Did you want to know anything about it?" he asked. He'd been there when it had happened, or else was the only one who had heard the tale from the horse's mouth at Winterfell. She wasn't sure. She didn't like to think about it.
"No, it's alright," Sansa said.
Some things were better left unsaid. She knew he was gone, but she couldn't stand to imagine it. She wanted to remember him as he had been that last day. Kissing her, holding her, loving her. She thanked the gods for the time they'd had. Just a moment, really. Enough to give her their son. She tried to tell herself it was enough, but in truth she wasn't ready for their song to be over.
She loved him. Truly. And she had always been selfish. There would never be enough time.
Tormund nodded and looked down at the baby. "He looks just like Jon Snow."
Sansa didn't know what to say, so she just smiled.
"The Free folk don't name their babies until the first year, either," Tormund grunted approvingly. "In case something happens."
"I'm sorry, My Lord, but I need to nurse. Could I have some privacy?"
Tormund, the 1000th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, perked up at the use of his title and left her alone. Sansa wanted to cry, but she was still too numb. She had meant to give her son a name — she ought to name him Jon, after his father. He could be King Jon, second of his name. He would be as good a king as his father, the man he'd never know. The man who had died a martyr, who gave everything he had to the North.
But she didn't think she could bear to say his name every day, to be reminded of what she'd lost.
Jon should have had a say in the name. She didn't know now why they'd never discussed it. He had told her that he might never return. She should have been sensible. She could be now. The people would want to know what to call their new King, and she still had a duty to them.
In the end, she names him Robb and the North rejoices in the second coming of the young wolf.
Five months later, Sansa sat with Robb beneath the Heart Tree. The pair of them came here everyday. He never cried in the Godswood. He belonged to the Old Gods, and so did she. She didn't feel alone here, it was as if the spirits of her ancestors and the family she'd lost were still alive in these trees. She was connected to all of them, they were all here, keeping an eye on her. They always had been. It had been folly to run from who she was, but she knew better now.
It was warm out, and each day it got warmer, but Sansa didn't believe winter could wane so easily. It was a false spring. The birds didn't seem to realize, though. Above them, on the white branch of the Weirwood were two crows and a nest of eggs. The hatchlings were sure to die when the winter winds returned once more.
The Godswood was a peaceful place to escape to. It was just her and her son. Nobody to try to make her more comfortable, nobody to worry after her, nobody to put at ease. Just listening to the birds chirping and the gentle spring breeze rustling through the leaves of the trees, Sansa closed her eyes and drifted off.
When she woke, Robb was gone. Standing in front of her was a white direwolf. For a split second she wondered if it was a dream, for Ghost had perished with Jon when the wall fell. But then Ghost was licking Sansa's face.
When the direwolf pulled away, he looked behind her. Sansa followed his gaze and her heart caught in her chest. Jon was smiling down at Robb, cradled in his arms.
It couldn't be real. She was still drowsy and disoriented. The Old Gods must be playing tricks on her. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, but he was still there.
"Jon?"
He looked over at her at last. "I didn't want to wake you," he said.
Sansa got to her feet and ran to him. She wrapped her arms around the pair of them and breathed easy for the first time in months. He was shorter than she remembered, but he still felt the same in her arms. She buried her face in his neck and breathed him in. "Next time you rise from the dead be sure to wake me," she said when she pulled away.
"I got distracted by him."
Sansa understood completely. "He's perfect, isn't he?"
Jon nodded. He was smiling wider than she'd ever seen him smile. His face had new scars, and new lines of worry, but somehow he looked younger.
"Brienne told me you named him Robb."
"I did."
"It suits him. He looks like a Robb," Jon said, looking down fondly at his son.
That was preposterous. He was very nearly a clone of his father, save for his blue eyes. But Sansa didn't question it. She felt too giddy. She couldn't stop smiling. She leaned over and kissed him again.
"Do you want to go back to the castle?" Jon asked.
Sansa shook her head. If they went back to the castle Jon's subjects would all demand his attention. She wanted to have him all to herself for awhile longer.
"Can we stay here for awhile? You can tell me how you got home."
"It's really not that great of a story. I just survived is all. I'm more interested in him. And... a nap."
"A nap?" Sansa asked with a laugh.
"I'm really tired!''
"Too tired to…" Sansa raised an eyebrow.
"No, no, not too tired for that," his eyes sparkled.
"Good." Sansa took after her cloak and took Robb from Jon's arms and laid him on it.
"Here?" Jon asked, his amused surprise obvious in his voice. "I thought you wanted to talk."
Sansa blushed. "We can talk after! It shouldn't take too long... unless... you don't want to?"
"Oh... no... I want to... don't you want to wait for a bed?"
She felt thoroughly shamed, but when she looked back, he was unbuttoning his doublet with a mischievous glint in his eye. He was teasing her.
"You want it bad," he said.
Her mouth gaped open. He had never talked to her like this. Perhaps he'd hit his head on this heroic escape from death.
"It's a wife's duty to provide her husband with comfort," she spat out. Sansa had a response for everything, but she'd never prepared for such accusations from her own husband.
He was grinning at her like an idiot. He was an idiot. Her idiot.
"Ahhh, duty," Jon said, nuzzling her nose with his. He took her face in his hands and kissed her again, this time slower. It had been so very long since she'd been kissed. She sighed into his mouth and clutched him closer to her. Perhaps she would keep him like that forever, and he could never leave her again.
They do end up waiting for a bed. Jon had been injured, and his back was killing him from the hard ride. Sansa fulfilled the promise she'd made to be a kind and true wife, and so she did all the work and let him lie back on the feather bed. He deserved it, she thought. For all his work for the realm. And just as importantly, she liked to be on top.
Only when she's finally had her way with him, and he's playing with her hair, does she admit the truth: "You know, sometimes duty is rather enjoyable."
Jon laughed softly, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Even though the winter was much shorter than anyone had anticipated, things were not easy. The war took from everyone, the land was ravaged and their people often desperate. The Spring may have been real but there was much to rebuild and scarcely any gold to do it. But despite everything standing in their way, they did live happily ever after.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this! It was a complete story so I uploaded it in one day. I'm moving my fics from tumblr here. Please let me know what you thought either here or on tumblr at theonbaejoys. Thanks for reading!
