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Theon cradles the precious bundle in his arms, riveted by the placid expression on the face of his daughter. She is so impossibly tiny, with a downy lick of pale gold hair, and a row of long, delicate eyelashes fanned out against her rosy cheeks. He’d caught a glimpse of her eyes earlier, and they were the same bold bright blue as his wife. But her slightly off-centre nose and pointed ears were all him.
She was beautiful, this perfect little creature he had helped create, right down to her small pink feet, which were stubbornly poking out of her swaddling. Even her tiny feet are lovely, he thinks, somewhat incredulous. He hadn’t considered himself a man capable of such great depths of feeling. As a youth he’d covered every negative feeling with a fake smile, until he’d accepted those shallow displays of false happiness were all he was capable of. Sansa had dragged him away from all that, filling his days with genuine joy. And now he could feel the rich glow of love, swelling from somewhere deep within.
However did I manage to make the gods smile upon me so? He thought, drinking in the sight of his wife, still flush and exhausted from the birth. Her fiery hair was a tangled mess, her skin sweat-slick and a bright shade of red. Despite all that, she was utterly radiant. He wanted to lean across the distance between them, from where he was seated on the bed covers, and kiss her deeply. But a reluctance to disturb the peace stilled him.
Instead Theon focused again on the little one in his arms. There was truly no better gift to come home to. Although he loved to be at sea, to inhale the salt spray and see the ocean spread out before him, nothing could compare to returning home to his family. Theon only wished he could have spent more time here, at home, while she was heavy and swollen. But at least he had been present for this, had missed none of these first, precious moments.
“Hello sweetling,” he cooed, leaning down to nuzzle against the babe’s soft forehead, revelling in her scent.
Sansa was smiling at him soft and loving, when he finally pulled back again.
“Are you quite sure, about the name, my love?” Theon asked tentatively. He’d agreed to let Sansa name the children, and he didn’t like to reverse such decisions. Still…
Sansa raised a thin eyebrow at him, but said not a word. Theon flushed, yet gave it another attempt, just in case she was capable of being swayed.
“Your choices are lovely, of course, but perhaps Jonelle would be a nice for this little one? Or Joanna?”
It was a valiant attempt, but Theon could see from the mischievous twinkle in her eyes that Sansa would not be moved. He sighed, defeated, and decided to simply enjoy the weight of his newborn daughter in his arms.
“We’ll defer to your mother’s judgement, Thea.” He confided softly, “It’s usually for the best. She’s a very wise woman, you know.”
Thea smacked her wet lips together, flexing her tiny fingers to grip the soft swaddling blankets, deeply entrenched in sleep. Theon looked away from his namesake long enough to indicate to a maid that their brothers be allowed in. A moment later they were joined by Robb and Jon, scurrying into the bedchamber, eager but quiet. Robb was still in his outdoor cloak, having evidently needed some time outside to walk off the tension of waiting.
Their eyes skittered from the small bundle in Theon’s arms, to Sansa, who was cradling her own. She jerked her head, to call the men to her. To Robb, she passed the smaller of the two babes in her own arms, their other daughter. To Jon, she passed their new son.
Robb and Jon shared twin looks of glee as they held and cuddled their respective niece and nephew.
“Well done, Sansa.” Robb grinned. “Three at once! You’ll be the envy of every wedded woman in Westeros.”
“They’re beautiful, Sansa.” Agreed Jon, more serene as always. “What are their names?”
Sansa smile was twisted up to one side, in an effort to hold back her laughter. Theon rolled his eyes, but could not hold back his own grin. She’d obviously had this planned for months, since the master revealed she was carrying more than one babe.
“Robb has Robbyn.” Sansa said, to which Robb blinked in surprise, before breaking into a large grin, his attention fixed on the girl in his arms.
“This is Thea,” Theon interjected, before Sansa had the chance. Robb laughed at that, looking between the two identical girls. So far they could not tell them apart. Sansa had already decided to tie a different coloured ribbon around one of their ankles, so they would not confused as to who each girl was. Until then, they had been wrapped in different coloured blankets.
“And Jon.” finished Sansa, looking to the third man in the room. Jon waited expectantly, a slightly confused look settling across his face when Sansa’s soft voice said no more.
After allowing the other men a moment to stew in their confusion, Theon elaborated; “The babe’s name is Jon.”
Jon went rigid at that, incredulous. He took in the features of the babe in his arms, who Theon knew to be the largest of the three, with a thick covering of dark brown hair, and eyes that were a darker shade of blue than his sisters. Jon looked between Sansa and Theon, his face slack with shock. Something about the set of his lips made it obvious he wanted to ask if they were sure.
Sansa interrupted, before he had the chance. “It seemed only right. The three of you have been so close these long years. I only hope these littles ones will love another as deeply and loyally as their namesakes.”
“I’m sure they shall,” Robb said robustly, rocking the girl in his arms, “I look forward to the time my niece speaks of all the adventures they have together.”
Jon said nothing, content to stare at the sleeping child named for him. Theon shared a look with his wife, leaning forward to deposit their daughter into Sansa’s waiting arms. Then he stood up, clapping Jon gently on the shoulder. He had no wish to rock Jon too vigorously, and risk waking his son.
He and Jon have not always had the best relationship. As boys, they shared a love for Robb which kept them close, which was solidified when Theon was betrothed to Sansa. Around then, Theon started following Sansa’s cues for treating Jon. He had recognised that she would not tolerate constant friction between her husband-to-be and the brother she no longer called ‘half’ or ‘baseborn’. Since then, they had fought beside one another in battle, and still Jon doubted his place in Theon’s family?
Jon’s arms were full with the babe. Therefore he could not shy away, when Theon wrapped an arm about his shoulders and gathered them both close. Peering down at his sleeping boy.
“There is no better man I could hope for my son to take after.” Theon said quietly, knocking his head gently against Jon’s curls. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jon’s lip wobble, and then the younger man relaxed into his hold, resting his head against Theon’s own.
This was their family, the family they had both longed to be a true part of for many years. Nothing could cleave them apart now. They were all too strongly bound. If anything should happen to him and Sansa, Theon knew their brothers would watch over their children as though they were their own. These cherished babes would never have to feel the sting of isolation, as he and Jon once had.
Theon caught Sansa’s eye, and felt his heart swell with love for the girl who had made him a Stark.