Jon, Dany and their seven little Targlings spend Christmas in Winterfell with the Starks.
Basically - Pure fluffy Christmas fun.
Continuation of the short story: Who Are You, Anyway?
By: cmyatt01, mywishingglass, and TheTargaryenHarlot
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Christmas had always been the most wonderful time of the year in Jon's opinion. As a young boy, growing up in Winterfell with his Uncle Ned, Aunt Cat and five cousins, Christmas was always the most festive time of the year. He and Robb would help his Uncle hang the lights on the house, and after a day of hard work, they came in and were given mugs of hot cocoa to sip as they warmed up by the roaring fire. Aunt Cat would play Christmas carols on the piano, and he and his cousins would sing along with her. Every Christmas Eve, before bed, Uncle Ned would read the Night Before Christmas to them.
But Jon's favorite part about Christmas was writing a letter to Santa, asking for one special thing – Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat always made sure Santa brought this one special gift. It was a tradition he came to love so much, he and Dany continued it with their children.
Dany also brought several traditions from her family to theirs. She loved decorating the interior of their house with pinecones and evergreen garlands as well as trimming the tree with peppermint candy canes and popcorn streamers. Every holiday season, she would spend hours in the kitchen, baking dozens and dozens of cookies and making gingerbread houses with the children.
Yes. There were no doubts about it. Christmas was definitely Jon and Dany's favorite time of the year.
Jon was especially excited for this year because they would be spending Christmas at Winterfell with the Starks this year. Growing up in the southern state of Dragonstone, his children had never actually seen or touched snow... the father of seven could not wait to take his children to Winterfell's Godswood, the same Godswood where he married their mother and built a snowman as a commemoration. Because they were going away for Christmas, Jon and Dany decided to have their children write their letters to Santa the Monday after Thanksgiving. That way they could ensure their one special gift would be under the tree when they woke up on Christmas morning.
It had been a busy day at the jewelry shop and Jon was looking forward to hearing the children read their letters to Santa after evening dinner. When he walked through the door of their house that evening, his nose was assaulted by the smell of garlic bread and tomato sauce, as well as cinnamon and sugar cookies.
After hanging his black peacoat on the hook by the door, he made his way to the kitchen, smiling to himself all the while, enjoying the content feel of stepping inside his warm home after a long day. When he arrived, their youngest set of twins, six-month old Aerys and Rhaella, were sitting in their highchairs, cooing and clapping as their mother pulled a lasagna out of the oven.
Drool dripped down the sides of their mouths adorably, fists clammed between their lips as they watched their mother with big, purple, infantile curiosity. Aerys had a nasty little habit of forcing his spit-soaked hand into his sister's mouth. Rhaella had an even nastier habit of happily accepting her twin's saliva-dripping hand with a goofy smile.
