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“Gods, he looks just like Jon,” Arya Stark said with a scrunched nose as she looked down to her baby nephew on the changing table. It was far from the first time she had observed this, but she felt like it had to be said every time.
“He does, doesn’t he?” Sansa Snow beamed down to her son. She had tossed his soiled diaper into the nearby Diaper Genie and had now wiped him and sprinkled him with baby powder. He smelled much better and he responded by jerking his legs and waving his arms and giving his mama a gummy smile.
“Well, Jon can never accuse you of running around on him,” Arya shrugged.
Sansa made sure to give her sister an eyeroll before her attention went back to the baby and fastening a fresh diaper onto him. When she and Jon found out that they were going to be having a baby boy, they decided to buy a baby name book. They had refrained from doing that for the early months of her pregnancy, not wanting to get ahead of themselves, but now, they definitely knew what they were having and like any first-time parents, they wanted to be prepared. They were quick to realize that there were so many possibilities, it was too overwhelming and how on earth would they know which name was the right name for their son?
They could name him after a family member. That seemed like an easy enough solution. Brandon was an old Stark name as was Rickard. Perhaps Eddard after her dad. But Sansa knew that she wanted Robb, the first-born son, to have the chance to name his own son after their dad someday. She had always liked the name Hoster, her grandpa on her mother’s side, whom she absolutely adored. But she didn’t know if she loved the name enough for it to be her son’s first name. Maybe his middle.
Jon then decided to make their decision that much more difficult by reminding her that they had to remember the playground. Every name they thought of, they had to test it with “Snow” so they could anticipate possible cruel taunts their son might get one day for what they named him. Kids were clever and relentless and not to be underestimated. More parents needed to remember that when bestowing names upon their babies. Jon and Sansa were taking the naming of their first born so seriously, their own parents told them that they were going overboard.
Her siblings and their friends told them to name the baby “Jon Jr.” and be done with it. Sansa paused to consider it, but Jon was the one to shake his head in the negative. He didn’t want a Junior. Their son was going to be his own person, and he should have his own name. So, it was back to square one and trying to pick the perfect name for their son that would be here very soon. Sansa poured over each name on every page, reading them out loud and Jon either shaking his head or nodding it. If they somewhat liked a name, Jon leaned in and asked Sansa’s growing belly, whether the baby inside agreed.
“I keep coming back to this one,” Sansa said while pointing to one name in particular.
Jon’s face split into a smile. “Me, too,” he nodded. “I’ll repeat it randomly while cleaning glasses or loading up the kegs.”
She laughed at that image and her face softened as she rested her hands on the large bump. She smiled as she felt their son roll around. “It can be a good name. It’s interesting. I don’t think it would be too traumatizing.”
“Daario might give him shit for it when he’s a little older, but I can handle Daario,” Jon promised and then kissed Sansa’s bump while she laughed. She felt relieved. They had finally decided.
Sansa now finished fastening the fresh diaper on the baby’s body and then began dressing him into his onesie. For half a second, Sansa naïvely thought she would be able to make her son all sorts of adorable, handmade, one-of-a-kind baby clothes. His mother, after all, was an internationally known, famous fashion designer. Most would expect her to make her son’s clothes and make him the most fashionable baby in all of Westeros. But Sansa and Jon both quickly learned. Having and caring for a newborn left them barely enough time to shower and sleep let alone design and make clothes for said newborn.
She kissed him on the forehead. “You want him?” Sansa smiled at her sister.
Arya immediately stepped to the changing table and lifted the baby into her arms. “Come here, Augie, to your favorite aunt.” Arya adjusted him in her hold. “Do we like Augie? Or Gus? How about Gus-Gus like the fat mouse from Cinderella?” She asked, carrying him from the room, and Sansa laughed, staying behind to straighten out the nursery a bit.
August Snow gave his aunt a gummy smile. He was three months old now and his smiles were natural and constant. He was recognizing more people in his life by their voices and faces and the baby seemed to always have a smile for all of them. Beneath them, Arya could hear the faint thump of Jon’s bar, Castle Black Bar. It was Tuesday and the busiest night for the establishment. Thankfully, the flat he and Sansa, and now August, lived in, above the bar, was thickly insulated so the noise from below didn’t disturb anyone above. The noise rarely ruined the baby’s sleep.
Every Tuesday, Jon showed a few episodes of a classic VH1 reality television show. Arya had stopped in before coming up here to see her sister and nephew and tonight, Jon was showing episodes from the second season of Flavor of Love. This night at Castle Black Bar, it was always packed – at least three or four people deep at the bar – with everyone watching, cheering, and laughing together. The weekends were always busy, but Tuesdays were, by far, the busiest night for Castle Black Bar, a distinction and honor that no other bar in their town had. Normally, Arya would be down there with the crowd, drinking Guinness and enjoying the show, but over the past few weeks, she has learned that she liked coming up here to see her sister and nephew more.
The two sisters hadn’t been close when they were growing up. And that was a severe understatement. They felt they had nothing in common and fighting was an everyday occurrence. Some days, they didn’t speak at all because what would be the point? It would just lead to an argument over something stupid and the sisters not talking kept things peaceful. It was only when Sansa dropped out of college in the South and came back home, humiliated and hurting from her time at fashion school, did the two sisters finally start acting like sisters.
They grew closer, talking and spending time together, coming to an understanding now that they were older and could maturely appreciate one another. When Sansa and Jon began dating, Arya thought it was great. Jon was always staring at her ass, and Sansa was always so moon-eyed towards him, they were both disgusting and Arya was happy both finally moved forward. But when they got married, that was when Arya worried. She and Sansa had just gotten close and now she was married and wouldn’t have time for her and their relationship would stall just like when they were young.
Sansa assured her that something like that would never happen. She and Arya would always be sisters, and Arya could always come and get her whenever she needed her. Arya came over frequently – mainly to bitch about her own boyfriend, Gendry. And Sansa was as good as her word. She was always there for her younger sister, and her ears were always open to listen. And now, after August’s birth, she had even more reason to come over. She, like all of the other Starks, Jon’s mom, and their friends, absolutely adored August Snow.
“Alright,” Sansa left the baby’s nursery with a deep sigh. It was as straight as it could be for the time being. It was still mind-boggling to her and Jon just how much stuff a baby had and needed.
Arya had just laid August down on his activity mat on the floor of the living room, and she stretched out on her side next to him. August stretched his arm up to touch his goose rattle hanging over his head. He could reach for things now. He smiled as Arya rattled it for him.
Sansa came and collapsed tiredly onto the couch. She was always tired these days. She missed sleeping and showering and designing for her fashion line, but she knew that what she was doing with her days and nights right now was far more important. She felt guilty that she sometimes had to remind herself that. She was just so tired.
She smiled as she watched her son and her sister on the floor, playing with his farm animal activity set. “Ready to tell me what Gendry did now?” She asked before she let out a yawn.
“Gods, yes,” Arya immediately answered. She sat up but remained on the floor. She took a deep breath. “Get ready to hear some bullshit. That man lives to aggravate me.”
…
At ten o’clock sharp, even with the bar still packed, Jon left it in the capable hands of Daario and Dickon, his two bartenders. Tormund was still at the door, offering security and checking the ids of new customers coming inside, and Jeyne Poole, his waitress, was delivering drinks to the tables as quickly as she could in the crowd without spilling anything.
Jon unlocked the door that led to the flat upstairs and after locking it again behind him, he took the stairs two-at-a-time. Sure enough, as soon as he opened the door at the top of the stairs, he heard their son crying. He hurried towards the sound. Sansa was holding him in her arms, bouncing him gently and offering him promises that his bottle would be coming shortly. She smiled as soon as she saw him. Jon gave her a hurried kiss to her lips and then one to August’s head before hauling ass to the kitchen. Sansa breastfed, but she also made sure she pumped as well so Jon would be able to help with feeding times. And no matter what, he wanted the ten o’clock to be his.
Jon now took one of the bottles from the refrigerator and turned to the stove to warm it up. Sansa came and sat down on a stool on the other side of the counter. August was still crying in her arms. Jon grabbed a dishtowel and Sansa laughed as he began wiping at the counter as if he was still downstairs, working.
“Sounds like you’re having a rough night, buddy,” Jon said to the crying baby. August’s cries didn’t argue his dad’s statement. “You and me, both. VH1 nights are brutal. I’m going to need your help downstairs when you’re old enough to wash glasses.”
“I keep meaning to look into Winterfell’s child labor laws,” Sansa commented.
Jon grinned at that, but as August continued crying, he turned his attention to the bottle. Dabbing a few drops on his wrist, it was warm enough now. Turning to the counter, he slid it towards the baby like he was sliding one of his regulars their gin and tonic. “Here you go, sir. Our finest breast milk South of the Wall.”
Sansa held out her arms and Jon was more than happy to take the baby from hers into his. He then took the bottle and slipped the nipple between August’s lips. The baby immediately quieted down and began suckling. Sansa slid from the stool and she leaned in, giving Jon another kiss.
“Do I have time to take a shower?” Sansa asked.
“I’m up here until last call. You have plenty of time,” Jon let her know with a smile. “Take a bubble bath if you want.”
“I’ll just fall asleep in the tub if I do that. You work too hard.” Sansa felt guilty that his night was far from over because even after last call, he had to wait until all of the customers left, then go through actually closing the bar and everything that entitled. His night could easily go until three or four o’clock. And Tuesdays were such an insane night anyway. Sansa remembered how good her tips had been on this night after Jon started showing those shows, but she also remembered how absolutely draining it all was.
At her comment, Jon gave her a look that let her know that he both thought that she was crazy and that he didn’t agree with what she just said. He shook his head and kissed her again. “You do, too.” They shared soft smiles and both looked down to their son in Jon’s arms, feasting on and enjoying his bottle. “Whoever said parenting was easy?” Jon wondered.
“No one, Jon. No one in the history of parenting ever said it was easy.”
“I think we’re getting the hang of it though.”
Sansa wanted to roll her eyes. If sleepwalking while not having the energy for literally anything else was getting the hang of it, then Jon was right. They were both experts at this whole parenting thing.
But instead, she looked at her husband and baby son. Her family. “I think you’re right.”
…
August Snow