And there he was, with his reddish gold curls and dark lavender eyes. An heir to the Iron Throne and a Lord of Winterfell, Aden Stark, given an old family name, since they couldn't choose from the multitudes of other deceased namesakes before him. But Sansa could care less his title or future, all she wanted to do was exist purely in the moment, with just her and him.

She could suddenly understand her mother much better. And, oddly enough, Cersei. Because in the first second she held him, she realized she would do anything and everything to protect him. It didn't matter where he came from, or even his name, all that mattered just then was her and her son.

He'd arrived just mere hours after Sansa had woken, with a quick and easy labor. They'd taken him away, washing him and swaddling him before finally handing him to Sansa. She looked down, so filled with love and joy it was like for a moment, nothing was pain. Everything in her life was perfect.

"I'll run and get the wet nurse." a handmaiden said, and Sansa looked up.

"No." she said with a smile. "There's no need. He's mine, I'll treat him as such."

She sat, illuminated by the firelight, in the center of their bed. She held their son to her chest, looking down at the baby with wonder. And for a moment, he felt a deep pang of sorrow for his brother, who would never share this feeling. And for his other life, sworn to the Night's Watch. But now to be here, in the peace of the room, with nothing but their future before them.

He realized, as one caught the light, there were tears running down her face.

"You alright?" he asked. She looked up, and smiled reassuringly. She reached for his hand with her free arm.

"Just never thought I'd be here, in this place, holding my child..." she admitted. "All while feeling so happy."

"I'm glad." he said, and she sniffed.

"Come on," she said after another minute. "come hold him, I'm being selfish."

He stood, using the table beside the bed to help himself up.

She handed him their son, and he carefully balanced Aden in the crook of his arm.

"He'll be quite handsome, won't he?" he said.

"He already is." she said with a giggle. "He'll look like Brandon, I think, with that nose."

"Hopefully be as tall as him, too." Jon said. "Gods help him if he's a ginger and my height."

"You're taller than me." Sansa protested.

"Barely." Jon whispered, laughing lightly. "Do you remember how bad it was?"

She thought for a minute, and then shook her head.

"Not even a little bit."

"I'll remind you next time."

Aden opened his mouth, beginning to fuss, opening and closing his lips around the air, searching for sustenance. Jon handed him back carefully, and Sansa returned him to her breast. Jon felt his chest fill with pride, and eagerness. But then was the overwhelming desire to crawl next to her in bed, and watch them together until he fell asleep.

And so he did.

As the winter continued to thaw, Aden continued to grow. He soon changed from the wrinkly face of an newborn, to the smooth and smiling face of a healthy baby.

Sansa seemed different as well, smiled quicker, laughed easier. She dressed in warmer weather clothes, even though it still froze at night frequently. There were days, though, that she could dress lighter, in more free-moving clothes. Linen, even, on the warmest days.

She was usually found in her chambers, with baby Aden, reading or whispering stories and songs to him, nursing him, or napping with him. She couldn't get enough of his silk soft curls, or the dimple in his right cheek, or the way he would giggle up at her with his toothless smile, like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Many days Jon would return to their chamber at night to find Sansa still in her nightgown, her hair loose and a mess of tangles, and she'd be the happiest he'd ever seen her.

It was like this he found her one night a few months after Aden's birth. She was barefoot, holding Aden to her chest, swirling around the carpet in front of the hearth. She was singing softly, but stopped when she heard Jon come in.

"Look who returned to us!" she said to Aden, delighted. He squealed, and squeezed at a lock of her hair. He looked at Jon, and tugging on his mother's hair in glee.

"How was your day?" Jon asked, kissing her cheek and taking Aden from her arms. Aden snuggled into the crook of his neck, sleepily greeting him.

"Lovely." she said, leaning forward and kissing his lips. "As lovely as ever."

Aden reached out, tapping his mother's face. He cooed, and wrinkled his nose.

"I wish it was that easy for me to melt your heart." Jon said as he watched Sansa staring at her son.

"He does have me wrapped around his finger." she admitted. "My little lord. I always wanted this, I realized."

"Being a mother."

"Yes, that. And having a little prince of the castle, maybe some princesses too. And being married to someone I loved, someone brave. A knight, just as fearsome as the ones in the storybooks."

He rolled his eyes.

"I don't think I'm as pretty as the ones in the storybooks." he said.

"Prettier." she said.

"You thought Joffery was pretty too, didn't you?" he asked. He was expecting a laugh, but instead got a surprised look.

"That's not fair." she said, frowning slightly.

"Sansa, wait, you know I didn't mean-" he said, but she'd already moved across the room. Aden was laying against his arm, playing with Jon's curls, investigating the texture of his beard.

"It's fine." she sighed, looking down at the bassinet that she was fussing with.

"I'm sorry." he said.

"You are nothing like him." she said, calmly. "You're exactly the man I read about. And all I could think about when I was with Joffery, and then Littlefinger, and then..." she let his name die in the air in front of them, not wanting to speak life to him. "The kind that would save me from the bad men, and the scary monsters. Not the ones who would sell them to me. I didn't know that men shouldn't be so wicked, cruel, or monstrous. I still believed in the good ones. I just never thought I'd be the one that would end up with one."

She waited. Jon looked shocked, as though he'd just been slapped across the face. Her truth had just tumbled from her so easily, he hadn't been expecting it.

She watched him stand there, and then he looked down at Aden, who was nodding off in Jon's arms. Sansa both loved at hated that. No matter what she did, putting Aden down for naps was nearly impossible. And then the moment he's in the safety of his father's arms, he slumbers instantaneously.

He walked over to her, carrying Aden delicately. He set him down into the bassinet, and Aden made a sleepy cry of resistance. But Jon kept his hand on the baby's stomach, and Aden wrapped his fists around Jon's fingers. In a moment, he was sleeping soundly.

"I don't know how you do that." Sansa said, laughing slightly. "I guess Aden and I are both like that."

"Like what?" he asked.

"We sleep better when you're here." she said.

"I am sorry." he said, repeating himself. He reached for her waist. "It was a stupid joke."

"It was." she raised a brow, but slunk her arms around his neck. "I'm was being serious, though, about what I said."

"You're much too kind." he said. "You give me too much credit."

"When will I get a day with you?" she asked. "A day, not just a night, where we can go riding, and lay in the sun."

"Sounds like one of your storybooks." he said.

"So, that means tomorrow."

He knotted her hair in his fist, pulled her to his chest, and kissed her. He turned her head up, and kissed down her jaw. He heard the groan he'd ignited in her throat. He tightened his grip on her head, and moved his hand to the collar of her gown. He loosened it, and lightly brushed his fingers across the skin he'd exposed. She made another noise of satisfaction, and he looked up.

"Shhh." he said. "If we keep waking Aden up, he'll be an only child for the rest of his life."

She laughed, her nose wrinkling exactly like Aden's had earlier. She put her finger over her lips, and closed her eyes, waiting for her husband.