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“Jon,” Sansa lowered herself carefully into her chair. “Could you?”
He smiled happily at the offer. Jon rushed over to his wife and took the brush from her hand before he began to slowly card his fingers through her fiery locks. The queen’s consort loved these moments the best.
“Anything for my queen.”
He ran the brush through her hair as she began to hum. Ghost laid his head in Sansa’s lap and she scratched behind his ear. The direwolf lazily licked at her swollen belly.
“I can’t believe he’s almost here.”
“He?” Jon asked, still brushing. “What makes you say the baby will be a boy?”
“Isn’t that what all men want? Boys?”
“Most, probably.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head. “But I want a girl with hair kissed by fire like her mother.”
Sansa hummed contently as Jon continued to brush her hair.
Their dream of spring was almost here.