Carliene Stark

Chapter 60

Carliene

It rained for a whole week, giving me enough time to swallow my pride and try my best at warming up to Walda. I didn't try talking to Lord Davon again and instead decided to pretend he didn't exist. He did of course, which meant I needed Walda to be there and feel some kind of fondness or obligation to put in a good word for me, should her husband ever decide to actually throw me into the kennels.

And that is what I told myself every time I ate with her or walked with her or talked. But deep down I was just glad to have someone, who shared my troubles and my worries. Who's round belly almost matched mine and who's fears also surrounded the realisation of bringing another human being into this world.

She was a shy and nervous girl, but when it came to her upcoming brith she seemed so confident, telling me how she had been there at the delivery of three of her siblings. She seemed to know exactly how it all passed and how one should carry oneself in the situation.

I had been there at Rikkons birth and all I really remembered where how much pain was written on my mother's face as she grabbed maester Lewin's hand so tight that his fingers turned white as snow.

"Of course it will hurt, but it will be all worth it" Walda agreed with a happy smile as she rubbed her full belly. "And don't worry" she added, gently grabbing my hand. "I will be by your side I promise"
I squeezed her hand gently, a little surprised that her words actually sparked some sort of relief within me.

"As I hope you will be at mine, once the little one comes" she pulled back stoking her abdomen again.
I nodded slowly. "Of course"
"It should be any day now" she grinned excitedly.

I looked down at my own stomach. According to Brayla I still had a few fortnights and that calmed me a bit, for I felt I would need all the time that was given, just to stomach it all.

"Do you think your husband will come to be present at the birth?" She suddenly asked a little hesitantly.

"No" it slipped out before I could really give it any thought, almost like a defence reaction. And I truly couldn't picture the kingslayer ever returning to the rock. Not with his father dead and his sister by his side. Lord Kevan would surely push his return, but I doubted he had any real say in the matter in his nephew's eyes. Also I didn't want him to return, his absence made it easier to pretend he wasn't my husband. 

"Oh" she sounded rather disappointed, as if she felt sorry for me. "Do you think it'll look like him?" she asked more excitedly, obviously trying to lead the conversations into more joyful grounds. 

I sure hope not.

If truth be told I hadn't really tried picturing the child. Walda loved to talk about her's as a blond headed boy, with pink cheeks and a cute little nose. As if anyone could know what their child would look like. When I though about babies, all I saw was little Rikkon, all pink and purple and screaming.

I shrugged as an answer. "As long as it doesn't have claws or fangs I don't think it matters"

She giggled as if I had just told the funniest joke in westeros. "How silly" she commented. 

I bit my lip nervously. "The small folk wouldn't be surprised". I could feel a cold shiver run down my spine at the thought of the attack many moons ago.

"What do you mean?" Her tone was more serious again. 

I sat up, trying to expel the bad memories from my mind, as I lay a protective hand on my belly. "Nothing" My eyes wandered as I suddenly felt nervous, a certain anxiousness creeping into my bones as I remembered the small man with the dull knife. I spotted Ser Oliver talking to a guard at the other end of the small terrace and my heart calmed ever so slightly. Even though the sight of his red face and the wine skin in his hand was not all that comforting.