Sansa and her children dragged the light back into his world. Before they came back he was alone, with the sole responsibility of restoring Winterfell heavy upon his shoulders, and the days tended to merge into one big grey blur. He was rebuilding the great seat of the North for them now, fuelled with a new desire to give them what they rightly needed; a home. He wanted to build them a future and provide a place of security and love. He would make sure they never lacked for anything. These children, with their mother’s blue eyes and auburn curls, would never feel the hunger or fear that plagued so many others. He and Sansa would make sure of it.
When the time came for Eddwyn to master sword play Jon was there to show him the correct steps. He never shouted, only prompting him when it was truly necessary, and patiently went through the steps again and again until the lad picked them up. When he disarmed his first opponent Jon felt a stab of pride in his heart that at first felt foreign to him. This young man would grow up to be the very best of men with Eddard Stark’s honour and Sansa’s kindness and Jon felt privileged to be a part of it. One day, after his twelfth name day, Eddwyn called him “father” and Jon felt no rush to correct him.
Little Jonquil was at first afraid of him, shyly hiding behind her mother’s skirts whenever he came close, but he finally managed to coax her out with a lemon cake. He was the one to teach her how to ride and even journeyed south for a pony small enough to accommodate her. He liked it best when she crawled onto his lap before her bedtime and fell asleep against his chest. He loved her quiet breathing, the way she sucked her thumb, and the lucky soft curls. He decided that no boy would ever be good enough for her and he would run through any who assumed otherwise.
Slowly but surely, they became part of his life. Their laughter, their energy, and their warmth gave him purpose. Years later, when Sansa birthed him a son of his very own, he counted three children instead of one. The hallways of Winterfell were once again filled with children and laughter and he got what he was always looking for; a family.
Re: Jon/Sansa
When the time came for Eddwyn to master sword play Jon was there to show him the correct steps. He never shouted, only prompting him when it was truly necessary, and patiently went through the steps again and again until the lad picked them up. When he disarmed his first opponent Jon felt a stab of pride in his heart that at first felt foreign to him. This young man would grow up to be the very best of men with Eddard Stark’s honour and Sansa’s kindness and Jon felt privileged to be a part of it. One day, after his twelfth name day, Eddwyn called him “father” and Jon felt no rush to correct him.
Little Jonquil was at first afraid of him, shyly hiding behind her mother’s skirts whenever he came close, but he finally managed to coax her out with a lemon cake. He was the one to teach her how to ride and even journeyed south for a pony small enough to accommodate her. He liked it best when she crawled onto his lap before her bedtime and fell asleep against his chest. He loved her quiet breathing, the way she sucked her thumb, and the lucky soft curls. He decided that no boy would ever be good enough for her and he would run through any who assumed otherwise.
Slowly but surely, they became part of his life. Their laughter, their energy, and their warmth gave him purpose. Years later, when Sansa birthed him a son of his very own, he counted three children instead of one. The hallways of Winterfell were once again filled with children and laughter and he got what he was always looking for; a family.