Maester Luwin was younger than Maester Cressen, his face not as lined, his walk not as stooped, his voice not as familiar to Stannis as the voice of the maester who had pulled him out of his mother's womb. Whatever it was Maester Luwin truly thought and felt about the lord he was now to give the benefit of his counsel and advice, he kept to himself.
"Maesters serve the castle, my lord, not the House."
"Your loyalty is to Winterfell and not to House Stark, is that what you are saying? Or is it truly to the Citadel?"
"I serve the Lord of Winterfell," Luwin replied, which was not really an answer at all as far as Stannis was concerned, the current Lord of Winterfell being a babe less than a year old.
"What do the northmen say about this marriage? The truth and only the truth, maester. I do not wish you to dissemble in a misguided attempt to spare me."
Or in a deliberate attempt to deceive me. He did not know this maester, Stannis reminded himself. This was not Maester Cressen, despite the chain around his neck.
"Your bannermen –"
"They are not my bannermen. They are Robb Stark's bannermen."
Catelyn would not have been pleased hearing Stannis calling her son 'Robb Stark', Stannis knew. Robb, that's what she wanted him to call her son. A cloud would darken her expression when Stannis referred to her son as 'Robb Stark' or 'the boy' or 'your son', as Stannis almost always did. Not a word of censure or rebuke ever passed her lips on the matter, but her face said it all.
It would have been better if it was anger he saw on Catelyn's face in those moments. Or even disappointment. He could have ignored both the anger and the disappointment, just as he had ignored the anger and disappointment on the faces of many others over the years.
The sadness, however, was harder to contend with.
Calling the boy 'Robb' reminded Stannis too much of his brother Robert. And Robert was not someone he wished to be reminded of at the moment.
Master Luwin was giving Stannis that look, thatslightly-disappointed-but-I-am-not-trying-to-judge-you-my-lord-I-serve-at-your-pleasure-I-am-only-giving-you-the-benefit-of-my-counsel look Cressen had mastered.
Were they trained to give that look at the Citadel, Stannis wondered? Perhaps there was an archmaester whose sole task it was to train the maesters about the various looks they should be perfecting to deal with various situations the lords they were serving had gotten themselves into.
"They are your bannermen until master Robb comes of age and is old enough to rule, Lord Stannis," Maester Luwin reminded him.
It was nothing new to Stannis, ruling over those who wished they were being ruled by another man, someone more worthy and more lordly in their eyes. "Lord Robert would not have allowed things to come to this pass. We would not starve if Lord Robert is here," had been the whispers heard at Storm's End during the long siege. Never mind that it was Robert who had made Stannis swear an oath on the graves of their father and mother that he would hold Storm's End for Robert, whatever the cost, until the war was won.
Robert was a long way away in King's Landing; there was no point thinking about him.
"Perhaps the distance will make you both appreciate the other all the more," Maester Cressen had said, on Stannis' last night in King's Landing.
"You are being too hopeful, maester," Stannis had replied. "I very much doubt that would be the case."
You are being delusional, maester, was what Stannis was really thinking, but he did not wish to be unkind to Cressen, in the last conversation they would have for a long while. Who knew when they would ever set eyes on each other again, Stannis and Maester Cressen? He did not think Cressen would be able to survive the long, hard journey to Winterfell.
He went to look for Catelyn at the nursery. There was the matter of the guests for Robb's nameday feast to be discussed. The boy would be celebrating his first nameday in a moon's turn. A feast of any kind was detestable to Stannis, usually. But this was not the usual situation. It was time for the people of the north to catch a glimpse of the boy who would be ruling over them one day.
Catelyn was not at the nursery, however. Only the nurse was there watching over Robb and Jon. One of the nurses. It had taken Stannis a while to realize that there was in fact more than one. This was the younger nurse, younger than Catelyn, looking more like a girl than a woman. The nurse was startled, surprised by his presence in the nursery.
"Lord Stannis," she said, bowing her head.
"Was Lady Catelyn here?"
"Lady Catelyn just left for the kitchen to see the cook, m'lord," the nurse said.
Why should she look so surprised to find him in the nursery? These children were in his care as well, as much as they were in Catelyn's.
The boys were both standing up in their respective cots, babbling nonsense to each other. Robb's hands were grasping the iron bars tightly, as if he was afraid he would lose his footing otherwise. Jon could already walk a few steps unaided; Robb had yet to take a step on his own. Stannis stared at the boys, one after the other, as they continued making noises and gesticulating excitedly, for all intents and purposes looking as if they were actually having a conversation with each other, in a secret language other people were excluded from understanding.
The nurse's footsteps coming into the room diverted Stannis from his thoughts. He had not noticed that she had gone out at all, leaving him alone with the children. He shuddered at the thought of the boys crying while he was left alone with them.
"It's feeding time," the nurse announced in a sing-songy voice. "Are you hungry, my little lords?"
Envisioning exposed breasts and nipples, Stannis quickly made a move to leave. "I'll leave you to the feeding, then."
The nurse cleared her throat. "I am not the wet nurse, m'lord. She will come later to give them milk."
Did she look amused? Was there a snicker hidden behind her words, Stannis wondered? But she only looked grave, and a little scared.
"What are you feeding them?" Stannis asked, curious. He did not know that the boys were now being fed more than just milk.
"Turnips, m'lord. Boiled and mashed. It's quite safe," the nurse insisted, as if expecting a rebuke from Stannis. "Young turnips boiled until they are soft, then mashed so there are no lumps. There is no danger of the boys choking, ever so soft the cook has made it. Lady Catelyn said it was time for master Robb and master Jon to eat a little bit of solid food. On top of the milk of course. They're still having that."
Stannis nodded. Catelyn would know better than him, when it comes to the feeding and caring of children.
The boys were making a lot of noise, pointing their fingers at the bowl the nurse was holding, shouting something in unison Stannis could not understand.
"Oh dear," the nurse said, suddenly looking flustered. "Lady Catelyn or the wet nurse is usually here for the feeding, to help hold the boys."
"Can't you feed them as they are? In their cots?"
"No, they would be moving too much, m'lord. The mash would only make a mess all over, not going in their mouths," the nurse replied. Indeed the boys were now bouncing in their cribs, impatient to be fed.
"Well, you can hold one boy and feed him first," Stannis pointed out the very obvious solution.
Or perhaps it was not as obvious as Stannis had thought. The nurse picked up Robb from his crib and was starting to feed him when Jon started bawling. Very loudly, and with an abundance of tears falling down his cheeks. Robb started crying too, noticing Jon's distress.
The nurse was looking flustered again. "Oh dear, oh dear. What should I do?" The older nurse would not have been flustered, Stannis suspected. Catelyn would not have been flustered. This girl however, was looking uncertainly at the crying boy still in his cot, and the crying boy in her arms. Quickly losing his patience, Stannis took Robb from her arms, and gestured to her to pick Jon up from his cot.
Jon immediately stopped crying once he was picked up. The noise from the boy in Stannis' arms ceased as well.
"If you could sit on that chair, m'lord, then I can feed them both at the same time. They like to do things together, these two." Suddenly the nurse was all competence, no longer sounding or looking flustered or uncertain. She fed the boys alternately, her spoon going from Robb's mouth to Jon's mouth, and back again.
Robb had gotten heavier, Stannis realized. Much heavier than the last time Stannis had held him, when they went down to the crypt to pay their respect to the dead Starks. Robb's hand with his chubby fingers was trying to grab Stannis' nose and mouth. He wanted to remove Robb's grasping hand from his face, but despite the chubby fingers, the hand looked almost transparent, so fragile that Stannis feared bruising it, or hurting the boy in some way.
He stared at this babe. Catelyn's child. Ned Stark's son. The blue eyes were almost the exact same shade as his mother's eyes. What little hair Robb had was reddish-brown, and would grow to be the same shade as Catelyn's hair, Stannis suspected. Robb had the look of a Tully more than a Stark. Stannis wondered if that would make life more difficult for Robb, once he was old enough to rule as Lord of Winterfell. Would his men hold it against him, that he was a Stark who was not raised by his Stark father, that he was a Stark who did not really look like a Stark?
Stannis' gaze moved towards the other boy. Benjen Stark's bastard certainly had the look of a Stark, with his grey eyes and his dark brown hair, already quite thick and plentiful for a babe. It was plain enough to see from his appearance that Jon Snow had Stark blood in him, despite his bastard origin.
"Master Robb! Naughty, naughty boy." The nurse's voice startled Stannis. He looked down to see Robb trying to jam his fingers into Stannis' mouth. Renly as a babe used to do the same with Robert, Stannis recalled. Robert would open his mouth wide, as if to swallow not just the fingers, but Renly's entire arm as well. That game had entertained little Renly endlessly. Stannis never understood what had been the attraction in that game for Renly, what was so funny about Robert pretending to be a monster who wanted to eat him.
Robb was getting frustrated with his fingers meeting Stannis' fully-closed mouth. His eyes were gazing at Stannis, as if pleading for something. What was he pleading for? What did the boy want? To play a silly game like Robert used to play with Renly? He would have thought a son of Ned Stark would be above those kinds of silliness. Stannis could still recall his surprise at meeting Ned Stark for the first time. He had been expecting something very, very different of the man Robert had loved and valued more than his own brothers. He had been expecting someone more like Robert, instead of the grave, solemn man who came to Storm's End to break the siege.
"The boy is only a babe. A babe who has never known his own father, who will never know his father. It is your duty to stand in place of his dead father, my lord." That was Maester Cressen's last counsel before Stannis left for Winterfell.
Even Ned Stark as a babe probably delighted in playing silly games with his father and mother, Maester Cressen would have said, if he was here at Winterfell.
Even Stannis as a babe had delighted in playing silly games with his father and mother. His favorite was his father's hand puppets, Lord Steffon working his fingers to imitate various creatures and animals, while his mouth imitated the sound of the animal in question. Stannis had only a vague recollection of this, but his mother had told him the story often enough.
He could not even stand in place of their father to his own orphan brother, Stannis thought, recalling Renly's constant cries for the absent Robert, for the father and mother he never knew, for anyone except Stannis. How could he do so for Ned Stark's son?
Jon Snow at least had his father with him, bastard that he was. And an aunt by marriage who seemed to care for him. Robb only had his mother.
There were tears pooling in Robb's eyes. He had not made a sound yet, but the boy's mouth was opening and closing ominously, as if he was getting ready to let out the most hideous howl. The nurse would tell Catelyn for certain, if Robb started bawling when Stannis was holding him. Catelyn would not say anything to rebuke him, Stannis knew, but all the same, he did not want her to know that he had made her son cry. Reluctantly, Stannis opened his mouth, as if threatening to swallow Robb's fingers whole. Robb pulled away his hand, then brought it closer to Stannis' mouth again. Back and forth, over and over again, with Stannis opening and closing his mouth in turn.
Just like the game Robert used to play with Renly.
Had Robert played the same game with him? Stannis doubted it.
Robb was giggling. Jon was laughing as well, bouncing on the nurse's lap, pointing his own hand towards Stannis as if saying, "my turn next." He would play the silly game with Jon as well, in the interest of fairness.
And then disaster struck. Stannis closed his mouth at the wrong moment, before Robb could take his fingers away. Three chubby fingers trapped inside his mouth. Thankfully his teeth did not snap shut on the fingers. Robb did not seem scared or bothered at all; he was grinning wider than ever, one his fingers tickling Stannis' tongue.
Catelyn walked in on them at that very moment. At the sight of her, Stannis immediately removed Robb's hand out of his mouth, then moving it away from his face. In his haste, he was none too gentle with the boy. Robb started crying. Stannis swiftly handed the boy over to Catelyn without a word. He turned away quickly, not wanting to see the look of anger, or perhaps disappointment, in her face. She must be thinking, What have you done to my son?
He walked out of the nursery to the sound of his wife calling out his name.