Jon knows she is Sansa. Alayne Stone may have brown hair, but the roots are red, and he sees that. Her eyes are Tully blue. Her mouth curves into a smile like Lady Catelyn's. Robb is dead. Bran, Arya and Rickon are nowhere to be found. And Sansa – Sansa who goes by Alayne Stone – holds a small bundle in her arms.
The babe is small are red-faced still, or maybe it is the cold that reddens his cheeks. Red hair curls in rich ringlets. "What is his name?"
"Leyton," Sansa, or should he call her Alayne, replies, eyes staring at the corpse on the bed. "Snow," she adds after a brief silence. "Leyton Snow." She rocks the babe gently, a child with a child. "He was going to marry me."
Putting a hand on her shoulder, Jon wonders how she can be so sure of it. But Sansa explains it even without him asking. "I had such high hopes when he called me his little wolf."
Leyton fusses in her arms, dark eyes reminiscent of his father's. "Leyton Stark," Jon says moments later. He falls on one knee. "The North awaits its Queen. Do they know?"
"Only Willas knew." Sansa waits for Jon to get up before giving him the babe. She pulls the sheets over the dead man. "Take me home, Jon."