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Jon is acting strangely.
It starts off small. Waking up earlier than usual, going to bed even later. Sometimes, Sansa is awoken by his body slipping into the furs behind her, a muscled arm tugging her by the waist as he buries his nose in her hair. It doesn't bother her so much, he has always been hard-working, but she does make sure to tell him not to strain himself during midday meals.
She could have survived with that. Could've lived with it. But then he escalates.
Vilma catches him staring in a looking glass when she comes into their rooms, searching for her little sister. Describing it to her mother later, the five-year-old states that her father was rubbing his shaggy beard, and looking thoughtfully into his reflection. He had his thinking face on, mama!
And Jon looks even more sullen than normal, brooding at dinner as they eat at the high table. Even Brandon, usually so distracted with his own thoughts, notices it too and asks Sansa if his father is upset with him.
His question is what it takes for her to search for her husband. She doesn't find him at his solar, or at the courtyard, but instead, in the godswood, staring thoughtfully at the deep pool. He heard her approach and raised his gaze, smiling softly at her though his smile didn't reach his eyes. He looks sad, almost as if he is in mourning and her heart breaks for her good and gentle husband.
"May we speak?" she asks him and he nods, tapping at the end of the thick root where he is sitting, white wood sprouting from the ground. Sansa adjusts her skirts as she sits down, auburn hair tumbling down her back in two thick braids and looks at her husband. She sighs, not one to hesitate and smiles gently. "I'm worried about you, Jon."
He looks away. "I knew it would only be a matter of time before you came for me," he said softly. "Nothing can be hidden from the icy eyes of Her Grace the Queen."
She places her hand atop his and he twists his palm up, so their fingers may lace together. Despite the fact that he is not wearing gloves, his hands are warm and Sansa relishes in that. Relishes that he is alive and there, with her.
"I don't come here as the Queen, but as your lady wife," she says. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."
Jon looks away, at the horizon where the godswood stands in varying shades of green and brown, save for the lonely heart tree in the middle. He frowns, holding back tears, and Sansa squeezes his hand.
Finally, he says, "My name day is in a week."
Sansa nods. "I understand," she says. "It's hard to see yourself getting old, but I'm here with you and our children--"
But he interrupts her. "No, Sansa," Jon says. "You don't understand. In a sennight, I'll be seven and thirty." Sansa frowns and he looks at her, really looks at her with wide dark grey eyes that seem almost black in the waning sunlight. "I'll be older than Father was when Joffrey murdered him."
"Oh." Sansa doesn't know what to say. For the first time in years, she hesitates, looking at her husband, at the man she thought was her brother for so very long.
"I can't stop thinking about him," Jon says. "I always saw father as old, and mature, but I still feel so young. He was so young when Joffrey killed him." He looks away from her. "And I keep remembering that I'm sitting at his seat, fathering children on his daughter-- my sister!"
"I'm not your sister," Sansa says quickly. "We know that. Everyone knows that." She inches closer to him, placing her hand on Jon's cheek to make him look at her. "I'm here, the children are here. You can't take it back."
"I don't want to take it back," he says, leaning his forehead against hers. "When I turned seventeen, I had no idea I was older than my mother was when she had me. And then when I reached Prince Rhaegar's age, I didn't even care."
"Because you didn't know them," Sansa says. "It is the fate of children to surpass their parents, and forefathers. Each generation taking one step further than the one before." Her eyes burn with unshed tears. "Wherever he is, Father knows that you are taking care of this family, of the North, in the same way he taught you. Wherever he is, Father is proud of you."
Jon closes his eyes and nods, tears slipping down his cheeks. "Thank you, Sansa," he says as he opens his eyes again.
"You're welcome," she says, then kisses him.