BLIZZARD: The Little Wolf VOL 8 (ROBB STARK X OC)

Chapter Sixteen (Robb)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Robb

Twelve Years Ago

*TRIGGER WARNING CHILD DEATH*

"He's not getting any better." I tell Alana as she looks at me with the darkest of circles under her eyes.

My wife has not slept a wink in days. Weeks if I'm being honest, not since the moment Brandon had been born. She never liked letting the wet nurses take the children and always decided to do it on her own. And Brandon is a big baby. He eats constantly or at least he was eating constantly. He's been too stuffy in his nose to eat for more than a few seconds before gasping for air with a wheezing breath.

"Don't say that." Alana says with tears in her eyes. "Maester Luwin says tonight is the worst of the worst. If he makes it through tonight-"

"Alana." I rub her head and kiss her temple. Looking down at the boy who's burning so hot that just being within the radius of him I can feel every bit of his body heat. There is no way that this fever can break before morning comes.

She shakes her head at me. "He's going to live, Robb, he's going to live..."

I kiss her temple again. "You need sleep." My hand motions toward the bed. "I'll hold him for a little while. Away from the fireplace, maybe by the balcony and the cool breeze will do him well."

"I don't want to sleep."

"You sound like my mother."

"Do not ever compare me to that vile woman." She grit at me.

Rightfully so, Alana and my mother do not get along at all. Not after my mother had spat horrid accusations at Alana when my father had died. Blaming my poor wife for the death of a man who was completely at fault for his own death. I've learned to stop blaming myself and to see the situation for truly what it was.

And that was my father being a spiteful prick and getting what was coming to him for what he'd said and done. My mother began to believe all the horrid accusations that my father had said about Alana. That she lied about her rape and that Robert Baratheon only meant to destroy my lineage by giving me a daughter who's nothing short of a brothel whore.

I grabbed a fur blanket and laid it down onto the floor by the balcony. Placing some pillows down and then laying down myself. Sitting up for only a moment to take my shirt off while Alana just blinked at me in confusion. I toss my shirt and even though I was shivering from the cold air, I knew it would be best for Brandon.

"Come on." I told her. "If you wont go to bed then come down here with me. The three of us will sleep here for the night."

She came down onto the floor carefully, her body weak and shaking. I took Brandon from her arms and laid him on my chest. He gave a wheezy coo and snored as he tried to breathe. The poor boy was shaking and limp.

Alana did not rest her head on the pillow, she kept her head on my chest to feel every breath coming from our infant son. Her hand on his back and mine just below hers while my other arm wrapped around her.

"I've got both of you... " I tell her softly. "When we wake in the morning all will be.. All will be as it should be."

I do not want to fill her with empty promises. The Maesters have all told her that this will not end will for the boy. Or anyone who is either a child or elderly that comes down with this flu. It destroys the lungs and nearly drowns them from the inside if the fever doesn't burn them to nothing but mush first.

"Send a rider to my mother and father in the morning. I know they are terrified of falling ill but I want them here. I'll keep them safe..." Alana mutters in such a tired voice.

"I will." I whisper to her. "Did you finish your wreath?"

She looks at me and nods slowly. "I used lavender for luck and rose for love. I've prayed over it for three nights now. I gave up the Seven for your Gods, the Gods of our children... I hope those Old Gods do protect my children. Especially Brandon as he needs the most prayers and healing right now."

"You're more than I've ever deserved you know that?" I kiss her head and look down at the boy asleep on my chest.

His wheezes and coughing startling him every few moments. When he coughs it frightens me because he stops breathing and his face goes blue until he gasps for air again and starts to wheeze and breathe more.

It will be a miracle if this boy lives to see another day... If this little boy who looks as though he has not a drop of Stark in his blood, this baby boy who is all Baratheon... Gods, if he grows up he will be Robert Baratheon in the flesh all over again just as Gendry is.

Alana nestles herself against me and soon she is asleep. Her eyes had been so heavy lidded that it was a miracle she hadn't crashed and burned sooner. I cannot let her turn her mind to ash while waiting for days to know if our boy will live or die. If she loses her mind how will she ever survive this? How will she find love in her heart for our other two children? They need her more than I will ever need her...

And I really fucking need her.

I do not sleep a wink. Each time Brandon coughs I shoot my eyes open and rub his back until the coughing fit is over. As the night goes on each coughing fit is longer than the one before. Harsher and thicker with phlegm. His lungs sound as though they are under the water and his wheezes are the only form of breathing he has accomplished now.

Alana stirs as the sun rises and smiles. "He made it through the night." Her eyes are still heavily lidded with dark circles that aged her terribly. But that damned smile...

Blinking at her completely exhausted I swallowed hard. "He's not doing well." I reply cautiously. "Hold him for a moment... I need to get the maester to check on him."

Alana took him happily into her arms and sat there holding him. Talking to him. As though nothing had been wrong at all with him. I couldn't take the sound of his labored breathes and the moment the door shut behind me as I went to fetch the maester I felt a tinge of relief. I shouldn't be relieved to not have to hear that sound for the time being but Gods, I swear it's a moment of peace to not hear it.

Upon returning to the room Alana is on her knees and screaming. I can't understand a single word she's saying but when I look, Brandon's lips are blue and his face is losing all color as well. He's gasping and unable to make any sort of air for himself.

Alana's rubbing at his chest and back and trying to get him to quit choking on whatever it is he's choking on. Possibly all the fluid that filled his lungs or maybe just mucus in his throat. The maester goes to grab Brandon but she swats his hands away. The only person she allows to touch our boy...

Is me.

I rock her tightly in my arms and try to reach my finger into his throat to try to clear an airway for him. The Maester is shouting directions but I can't hear a fucking thing over Alana's screaming.

Eventually the sounds all stop. Alana stops. Brandon stops. And suddenly... It's like the room drops to below zero temperatures. A freezing chill that stiffens my bones. I look out the window and the sun is fully in the sky now. Cascading light to every part of the castle except this wing.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace..." Was all I heard before Alana's wailing started again. My teeth pierced through the skin on my lip as I tried to suck back my own sob but I failed. I've failed at fucking everything in life.

Alana held the boy in her arms for hours. Refusing to let him go. Until I wrapped him up in a blanket and brought him down to the crypts. By the time I came back up she was spiraling out of control. Burning any remnants of our baby boy.

My wife had succumb to madness within her grief and there had been nothing I could do to fix it.

It's all my fault.