[Easily, instinctually, Claire wraps her arms around Sansa's slender frame. A mother's ear is attuned to that call, even if it's been so long since she heard her own child say it. Mama, from Bree, until she thought she became too old for it and hardly addressed her at all. Not until the end, when the truth was laid out on the table. It had meant a lot to be her mama once again.
She doubts Sansa realizes her slip. Jon longed for a mother he never had, but Sansa did have one, once, and she imagines that ache is a deeper one. So, all she does is swallow the painful lump in her throat, a kiss lost somewhere in Sansa's hair.]
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She doubts Sansa realizes her slip. Jon longed for a mother he never had, but Sansa did have one, once, and she imagines that ache is a deeper one. So, all she does is swallow the painful lump in her throat, a kiss lost somewhere in Sansa's hair.]
I know, my sweet girl. I know you do.