It's late into the evening and she cannot sleep.
She supposes the late stage of her pregnancy is to blame, but in truth its not her lack of comfort that keeps her awake. It's her racing mind. Beside her, Jon sleeps soundly, one arm flung over her as he always did and she sighs, feeling the familiar rush of happiness she still yet felt when watching him sleep. Nearly six years into their marriage and sometimes it still feels like day one. Sansa can't believe how incredibly lucky she is to have him.
Sighing, she slips free from his grasp and slides off the bed, stretching out her tired, aching body as she went. Touching a hand to her stiff belly, she smiles, knowing this little one was ready to make their entrance. And she was ready for them, that was certain. After four previous pregnancies, she knew her body well and knew that this baby was days, if not hours, from coming into the world. Aside from being more than over being heavy with child, Sansa longed to know the gender of this final baby. Or so she said it was to be their final one (she had said the same thing about Elaena the year before). As both a queen and a wife, she knew it to be her duty to give her husband and kingdom sons, and yet, all she had given Jon and the North were daughters. Beautiful daughters that she loved with all of her heart, beautiful daughters that would grow into fine young woman, and yet... She could not help but to feel she had let Jon down by not yet giving him a son.
"Sansa?"
She turns from where she stands at the window now, finding Jon awake in their bed. "Sweetheart, you should be resting," he says as he rises from the bed, coming across the room to gently grasp her by the arms. But as he looks into her eyes, he knows something is wrong. Something is bothering her. "What is it? Are you in pain? What's the matter?" Fear leaps into his throat, makes his heart skip a beat.
"What if it is a girl?"
Jon pulls back, surprised by her words. "If the babe is a girl?" He asks incredulously, unable to help himself from laughing when she nods. "Then we shall add a fifth girl to our lot, won't we?"
"But do you not want a boy?" She asks quietly, tears welling in her eyes as her hands cross over her belly.
"I don't want one more than the other," he said with a smile, reaching up to tenderly stroke her cheek. "You have given me four beautiful girls and if you give me another one, then you will have given me five." His thumb swipes at the tears gathering in her eyes and he pulls her as close as her great belly will allow, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I want nothing more than to have a happy, healthy babe. Is that not all that you want?" She nods, a smile twitching on her lips as he pulls back from her. "Come to bed, sweetheart." He takes her by the hand and draws her back towards their bed, ensuring she was comfortable enough before he lay down at her side. He slips his arms around her and draws her in close, sliding his hand over hers that rest against the curve of her belly, their child moving beneath their palms. "I love you," he murmurs, his voice warm against her neck.
And as she slips back into sleep, she realizes more than ever just how lucky she was to have him.
[ x x x ]
Two days later, in the middle of the afternoon, Lyarra Stark is born, the fifth and final daughter of the King and Queen in the North.
And no one was happier than the King himself.
