The Way Of Winter | Robb Stark

ARYADNE - XXXI

THE FIRST NIGHT WAS THE WORST. Every time the baby screamed, Aryadne had to rouse herself. Robb had helped every single time without fail but had slumped back into the pillows now, sometime into the latest feed. His mother and Talisa had remained in the cabin with them, though both had also drifted off. She was not sure of the time anymore, or how many times she had woken. Her eyes stung and drifted shut every so often. Adjusting her hold on the suckling child, she struggled to keep her head up. It lolled forwards and she caught it once, twice.

Someone else was in the room.

She did not fully register them at first, seeing only a shadow in her periphery. Then she realised. Her head shot up. There was Ned Stark, beaming down at her. It was the most alive he had ever looked. A deep and ugly gash still circled his neck and his skin was greyish. Though his steely eyes were still lifeless, the skin around them crinkled with a true smile. She could have sworn that she saw tears shining at their corners. Usually he would stand still to deliver his omen. This time, however, he sat at the edge of the bed.

A pale hand rested on the back of Lyra's head, which appeared even tinier in comparison. She did not react. Her blue eyes were half-lidded and gazed up at him with what Aryadne realised was curiosity. As though she could see him, too. She expected his usual warning, 'The child must not be harmed', but it never came. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. His lips were cold. She felt their frozen touch long after he had moved away. Next he looked to Robb. The young man was unconscious, curled up rather uncomfortably with his back to them, face buried in the pillows. It was a sweet sight. His father's ghost reached out to touch his shoulder.

Robb stirred, giving a soft groan before rolling over. When he did not react to the phantom presence, she looked to Ned only to find that he was not there. Starting at the sight of her, Robb sat up. "I fell asleep, I'm so sorry."

Aryadne thought to tell him of what had happened. She knew that something had been wrong, as a sense of unease hung over her. Maybe it was best to forget about it. "There's no need to apologise," she said with a weary chuckle. "We are both tired."

He rose to his knees, kissing her forehead, lips warm on the place that had been ghost-touched. His careful hands reached to lift the sleeping child from her arms. Pulling the blanket more securely around her, he set her down in the crib. It had been brought right up against the foot of the bed. By the light of a dying hearth, the etchings looked more like shadows, Heart Tree eyes staring back at them. Aryadne noticed the way that he hesitated so as to be sure that the baby was still asleep, fixing her blanket once more with a tender touch. Then he tossed another log on the fire and crept over to the table where a basket of supplies laid. The bed creaked with his return. Now it was Aryadne who was subject to his kindnesses, the furs brought closely around her and a cup of small beer held to her lips. She gratefully accepted it. As she drank, his hand began to stroke her hair. "Are you in any pain?"

A snort of laughter almost caused her to choke. "What do you think?"

The cup done with, he set it aside and wrapped her up in his arms. Aryadne was used to this doting side of him but the care he took never failed to astound her. Of course, part of his motivations was the desire to make up for his inaction during the birth — he had helped her more than he'd ever know, but it was the pain he felt guilty for making her endure. But there was another, less selfish motivation. It was because of her. Because she was his wife, his lover. That seemed the proper name for it: lover. The person he loved. The person with whom the creation of a new love was possible. The person who, perhaps, loved him too.

One thing she had come to know about Robb early on was his devotion towards his family. 'Family, Duty, Honour' were the Tully words, words on which he was raised. He would give anything, he would live and he would die for. After everything that had happened, it was one of the few things he knew for certain. It scared her.