Heart in Hand (A Jonsa Family Drabble)
Jon could never forget the words Benjen Stark had spoken to him, when he had first expressed his desire to take the black.
“Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up.” His younger self insisted he didn’t care about that, but his uncle knew better. “You might, if you knew what it meant. If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.”
It wasn’t until Jon married Sansa did he begin to learn. It wasn’t until his eyes first landed on their newborn daughter did he know.
(Gif not mine!)
Word count: 1338
Dedicated to @maddiethefashionista for all of the brainstorming ideas and for the name Calla Lily. I love it and you!
Fighting. That’s what his life had always been. Fighting and surviving. He hadn’t lied to Sansa when he’d told her he was sick of fighting. He’d been tired than, weary to the bone. He had just come back from the dead, after dying for a cause he’d sworn an oath to serve his brothers. In his mind, he had carried out his term, had served his duty, and had felt no guilt when passing on the cloak to Eddison. His watch had ended.
Jon could never quite forget the words Benjen Stark had said to him, when he had first expressed his desire to take the black. “Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up.” His younger self insisted he didn’t care about that, but his uncle knew better. “You might, if you knew what it meant. If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.”
It wasn’t until Jon married Sansa did he begin to learn. It wasn’t until his eyes first landed on their newborn daughter did he know.
“She has your hair,” Sansa murmured, unable to look away from their young daughter, much like himself. Those dark wisps of chocolate grew darker by the hour, contrasting starkly against her porcelain skin. He yearned to reach out and touch her but did not want to disturb her as their daughter was curled up comfortably in her mother’s arms.
Her name was Calla Lily Stark, a child of the spring, though the North deeply ran through her veins. She was so incredibly tiny, a tiny bundle of pink perfection. He hardly knew what to do with himself, so overcome with emotion the moment he saw her. He felt Sansa’s warm, happy gaze on him, and her returned it before his gaze was drawn back to the little human in her arms, his expression wondrous.
Suddenly, Lily wrinkled her nose in her sleep and stirred. The new parents held their breath, waiting until the movement subsided. She turned her face against Sansa’s breast and released a small huffing exhale that filled Jon with overwhelming affectionate.
“She’s perfect,” he murmured hoarsely. “And she’s all ours.”
“I loved her before I even knew her,” Sansa admitted, gently stroking her hair. “Does that make any sense? How is that possible?”
“It does,” he said. Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself into the bed beside her. His arm wrapped around her shoulders gently. “Are you well?”
She nodded and gave him a tired smile. “Tired, and more than a bit sore, but I’ll be fine.” She turned her attention back to Lily as she continued to stroke her cheek. “She was worth it all.”
Sansa had given him quite a scare when she had first gone into labor. He hadn’t been with her when it happened, which still upset him several hours later. He had been overseeing the progress of the new schools being established in Winterfell when a young maiden, pale faced and breathless, had run to him to tell him the news. After everything he had faced in his life, including going up against the Night King, he couldn’t think of anything that came close to the fear he had felt, fear for his wife’s safety, for welfare of their child.
In the end, the midwife had taken care of both mother and child safely. He hadn’t left since.
“Do you want to hold her?” she asked him, knowing him all too well.
Jon hesitated. “I don’t want to wake her.” Then he smiled at the obvious reluctance on his wife’s face. “And it’s apparent you don’t want to give her up.”
Sansa smiled sheepishly. “You’re right. But she is your daughter, too. You should hold her, when she wakes.”
Lily’s little fists were curled against her lap, twitching ever so lightly. Jon wondered what she was dreaming of, what she was thinking of. Unable to help himself, he reached down and gently touched her hand with a finger, marveling at the contrast in size. The twitching stopped immediately, and briefly, Jon panicked, his gaze locking onto her face.
Lily’s eyelids fluttered open after a few slow, sleepy blinks. She looked at her mother then slowly towards him. Their gazes held. Suddenly her tiny fist opened and his finger was enveloping in her tiny hand. His heart squeezed the moment her fist squeezed his finger. And just like that she had him, right where she wanted him. She had his heart in her hand. There was no fighting it, a fight he had no intention of engaging.
Jon inhaled sharply, his throat tightening with emotion. Sansa pressed a hand to his cheek, her thumb caressing his face. It wasn’t until she touched him did he realize he’d begun to cry.
There was nothing in this world that could make Jon walk away from this, nothing short of the gods’ intervention themselves. He would die a thousand deaths to protect the woman that he loved and their daughter. As much as he loved Ned Stark as a father, he remembered all too distinctly what it was like to grow up on the outside and never quite fitting in. He’d felt the shame of being a bastard, remembered Catelyn’s scorn, the treatment he’d received, yet he still knew he’d had it better than most. Still, the hurt and pain that came from the label bastard still haunted him, even though he had never truly been one.
“You are our heart, littlest wolf,” he murmured, watching as Lily tugged his finger closer to her chest. “You are here, and you are loved. You’ll want for nothing. No harm will ever come to you. You have my word, as your father.”
And then Lily smiled, her expressive eyes crinkling in the corners. Gods, she was already a heart breaker and only hours old yet.
Sansa kissed his cheek, and when she withdrew, he saw she was crying as well, tears of joy and love. “You’ll be a wonderful father,” she assured him. “As you are already a wonderful husband. I couldn’t ask for a better life.”
Jon closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer to the gods. He hoped he would be. And with Sansa at his side, he hoped they would raise a large family together.
Turning to Sansa, he murmured reverently, “You are a blessing, Sansa, and you have given me the most wonderful…” Swallowing, he pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”
Tilting her face, Sansa pressed her mouth to his, her lips softly gliding over his. It didn’t last long as a soft mewl from the bundle in her arms drew their attention.
Lily squeezed his finger again, looking up at him almost expectantly. Sansa laughed quietly, understanding her daughter’s intention. “All right, little one. You want to meet your father.” Shifting Lily’s weight carefully, she waited until Jon was ready and slowly passed her to him.
Jon’s arms were filled with a small weight of warmth. Lily refused to relinquish his finger and continued to reassert her claim to it, squeezing and releasing at random.
He lowered his face towards her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, holding her close. After a few moments of uninhibited wonder, he looked at Sansa. “You should get some rest. I’ve got her.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, even as she yawned. She was resting her head against Jon’s shoulder, watching him watch their daughter and back again.
“I’m sure,” he said and smiled. “I’ll take the first watch.”
Sansa kissed his shoulder and shifted on the bed, wincing a little at the moving of sore muscles. Sleep didn’t take long to claim her. With his wife sleeping soundly beside him, Jon held their baby girl in his arms. “I trust you’ll return my finger at some point,” he asked amusedly.
Lily gave no indication of a response, apart from giving his finger another squeeze.