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The boys crowd her bed after everyone leaves, curious to see their new little sister.
Brandon, the spitting image of his father, looks at Jon when the girl whimpers, trying to gauge his reaction. When Jon smiles and puts his hand on his shoulder, Brandon smiles back and relax a little. He was old enough to know that some kings did not like their daughters and he was desperate to be just like his father.
“She’s tiny.” says Robb, sitting next to Sansa in the bed. He brought her flowers and they are stuck within his tight grip. “And pink. Why is she tiny and pink, mother?”
“She’s fresh,” Sansa answers, holding the little girl on her arms and touching her dark curls. “And she couldn’t fit in my belly if she was too grand.”
“But your belly was so big” he pouts. “I thought the babe would be bigger.”
“Mother had other things on her belly too, not just the babe,” Jon says. There’s a soft smile on his face and the worry lines around his skin have disappeared.
He wanted a daughter as much as Sansa. Perhaps even more.
“I wanted the baby to be a dog.” admits Brandon, crossing his arms. At age nine, he’s much bigger than his younger brother but still, so very small in Sansa’s eyes.
Jon laughs, clapping his hand on Brandon’s shoulder. The little girl sleeping on her mother’s arms moved annoyed for a bit before deciding that sleep was better than complaining.
“We’ll get you a dog if you want one,” Jon murmurs. “Or a wolf.”
This arouses Robb’s attention and he leaves her bed with a thud. “I want a wolf too, father!”
“You can’t have a wolf now,” says Brandon highly, bending his spine to look in the eyes of his brother. “You’re just a babe. Babes can’t have wolves."
“I’m not a babe!” Robb stomp his feet and his chubby face turns as red as his hair. “Little sister is a babe, not me.”
The boys start arguing, like they always do when they want the same thing and can't find reason. Their voices are getting high enough to worry when Jon puts a stop to everything, whispering to them something that Sansa can’t quite hear.
Robb is still upset of being called a babe when his brother calms down, pouting and crossing his arms. He wants to cry but crying would mean being teased by Brandon and he doesn’t want that.
“What is her name, mother?” asks Brandon, sitting down at the end of the birthing bed.
They hadn’t really discussed girl names for the past moons, it was as if they already what they would name her. Jon had never voiced his desire for this but Sansa could see past his exterior. He wanted to give the name a new chance and so did she.
“Lyanna,” Sansa says and that’s it.