The Way Of Winter | Robb Stark

ARYADNE - XXXII

TW// Child loss.

—

ARYADNE WOKE BUT DID NOT MOVE. A warm feeling had settled over her. A peace. Through the off-white canvas ceiling, pale light filtered in — dawn beckoned in by distant birdsong. An arm wrapped securely around her middle. She took a moment to look down at it. The fur blanket had slipped to give her a reminder of her body's refusal to change. Almost a week had passed since the birth of her daughter, and her stomach remained stubbornly, pointlessly swollen. This was yet another reason for her efforts to remain still. Any movement would inevitably remind her of all the aches, the annoyances, the awkward things she dreaded consulting Talisa or, Gods forbid, her mother-by-law about.

A soft grunt marked Robb's awakening. He stretched his legs as far out as they would go under the covers, his arm instinctually tightening around her. The point of his chin dug into her shoulder a little and pressed as he mumbled, "Morning, Love."

He'd always had the ability to undo all of her tension with just his voice. She gave a contented sigh, allowing the warm bubble to envelop the both of them. Her hand traced the shape of his arm. Fingertips followed the dips and swells of muscle, the streams of blue meandering under his skin. He moved closer.  The plush of his lips teased her neck and the angle of her jaw, still somewhat puffy. "Do you hear that?" he asked quietly.

"Hear what?"

She listened, but there was nothing distinct she could pick out. Knowing this would be the answer, he grinned. "Exactly. Peace."

At the last holding they had passed through, there was a new addition to their court: a young woman by the name of Alys Towers. Sister to the lord of the castle, she had been widowed during a Lannister raid and lost her unborn child shortly after to the ruthlessness of grief on a weakened body. Now, she resided in a small tent beside theirs with Lyra. Aryadne still awoke with every nightly cry, but now reminded herself that it was no longer her job to answer the baby's pleas for sustenance.

Even thinking about her brought a familiar ache in Aryadne's breasts. A damp patch had started to form on the fabric of her nightgown. Groaning, she sat upright and the instant reminder came. Her whole body seemed to sag with exhaustion and emptiness. Robb could only watch and offer calming strokes against her back as she let down the fabric and coaxed out whatever useless product she could. After a moment, she hauled her legs over the side of the bed and leaned down to find the chamber pot from under the bed, tossing the milk away. A scowl set on her face as she sat upright again, though it softened when he brushed her hair over one shoulder, caressing her cheek. She turned it to see him better. "I feel like a bloody cow."

He chuckled. It didn't help. And yet, a part of her couldn't help but enjoy the sound, recalling the boy she had held so dear, and accepting the man who shared her bed. "You're not a cow," he said, kissing the back of her shoulder. His short beard had grown some and scratched her skin in such a pleasurable way. "You are a mother. And a new one at that. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Despite the comfort of his body and the rumble of his waking voice, her frustration won out. "How can I not be? I— I'm swollen and sore and grumpy. I'm stuck pouring out cup after cup of milk from my own body, and then I throw it away because a fucking tradition dictates that I'm too important to feed my own child. Meanwhile, that bitch has Lyra all to herself..."

Hearing the rising anger in her voice, Robb sat closer. His arms moved around her in a firm embrace. "That's rather harsh, she didn't do anything. Don't you think that maybe you're overthinking this a bit?"

"What did you just say?"

He instantly back-tracked when she pulled away, turning to glare at him. "I mean... it'll stop, won't it? The, um, milk stuff..." A hand came to itch the back of his neck. He never knew what to say, uncomfortable with discussing such intimate things he knew little about. It was his ignorance that annoyed her the most.