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“Daddy, I prefer dragon nuggets.” Six-year-old Kitty held up a slice of chicken in one hand and a piece of broccoli in the other. “I don’t like the little trees so much.”
Stannis resisted the urge to sigh. “This is an extremely balanced meal.” He also refrained from pointing out they had this conversation every time he made her dinner. “Dragon nuggets don’t represent any major food groups. Perhaps protein, but only if you squint. Now please place your food back on your plate.”
Kitty frowned and clenched her jaw, though she returned the food to her plate. “Mama gives us dragon nuggets with the little trees. She makes the dragon nuggets fly over the trees and that makes them nicer.”
“My loves dragon nuggets,” said four-year-old Cassie, sadly.
“It’s okay, Cass,” said Kitty, reaching over and patting her sister's arm consolingly. “Mama can make us dragon nuggets when she comes home.”
“Your mother won’t be home until after you fall asleep, so eat your vegetables and grilled chicken,” said Stannis, more sharply than he intended. Kitty, Cass and the recently turned two-year-old Stef all stared at him reproachfully.
There was a loaded pause.
Stannis gave in to his urge to sigh.
“I apologise,” he said to the girls. “I spoke too harshly.”
“Do you need a Time Out, Daddy?” said Kitty, looking him up and down. “Time Outs can help if you are feeling mad.”
Cassie made a face at her plate, but reached over to squeeze his hand. “My loves the little trees now, Daddy,” she said in her sweet voice.
“Well, I still hate them,” said Kitty, folding her arms.
“Gog-gog?” said Stef, sliding her arm under the table towards a shadowy shape. Stannis realised she was surreptitiously slipping slices of grilled chicken to Florian, their absurdly large, fluffy, ginger cat.
“There’s no chocolate for dinner, Steffi,” said Kitty morosely. “Only Daddy’s little trees, carrots, potatoes and weird meat.”
“Gog-gog,” said Stef, narrowing her eyes. Florian stuck his snout out from under the table, clearly trying to elicit more chicken.
“Steffi, there is no chocolate. Look, girls, this was Shireen’s favourite meal when she was a child,” said Stannis, trying not to sound desperate.
Cassie gasped. “Shireen loves the little trees too?” She took a fork full of broccoli and ate it, rubbing her belly and smiling after.
Kitty eyed her sister askance, then looked back at Stannis, scepticism written all over her face. “I don’t know, Daddy.”
“Luff ‘Neen,” said Stef though a mouthful of carrot, apparently having given up her quest for chocolate. Florian retreated under the table, less keen on vegetables.
“And Shireen loves you too.” Stannis sat back in his seat, sensing a potential victory. “I was going to video call her before your bedtimes. Perhaps you can all tell her how you ate all your dinner?”
Kitty huffed but took a large mouthful of broccoli. She chewed silently, eyeing Stannis unblinkingly.
“My am just like Shireen,” said Cassie, smiling happily. “Shireen loves little trees too.” The six little buns of hair that Sansa had fashioned atop Cassie’s head bobbed as she ate. Their middle child had long been obsessed with dragons, and Sansa had devised a variety of hairstyles to make Cass ‘resemble’ her favourite dragons. This arrangement of six buns, if Stannis recalled correctly, was to make her look like Balerion the Black Dread.
“Where ‘Neen?” Stef nibbled delicately on the one slice of chicken left on her plate.
“Shireen is at her house,” said Stannis. “But she informed me that she was looking forward to talking to you.”
Stannis should have felt bad about bribing the girls with their older sister, but at least they were all now eating. Sansa had suggested they order pizza to be delivered whilst she was away with friends for the evening, but Stannis wished to emphasise to the children that it was business as usual when he cared for them, not a special occasion.
“Girls, go and wash your hands whilst I clean up,” he said when the three plates were clear enough for his satisfaction. “And faces,” he added, eyeing Stef who was distinctly grubby. “Please call for me if you require assistance.”
Stannis was ready for a cup of tea and a pleasant sit down with the most recent issue of ‘Westerosi Tax Law Monthly’, but he gathered the dinner dishes and took them through to the kitchen. Sansa had wished to pause her career and care for the children full time whilst they were very young. The bulk of household duties subsequently fell to her, though he assisted as often as possible, as was only right. He frequently worked long hours at the family law firm, though, so his assistance wasn’t as comprehensive as it perhaps should be.
Stannis loaded the dishwasher and cleaned the small table where the girls sat for meals when they didn’t dine with the adults. He could hear the children chattering to each other from the nearest bathroom.
Florian appeared in the kitchen, meowing in his typically high-pitched manner.
“I do not have any chicken for you,” he said to the animal, who started purring loudly and winding around Stannis’s legs. “Cease your excessive caterwauling.”
Florian looked up at him, tilted his head to the side and resumed meowing.
Once, years ago, he’d apologised to Sansa because he’d never be able to give her children with exquisite auburn hair like hers. Because of a quirk of their genes, all Baratheons had black hair. She’d laughed and said she didn’t care. They could get a red-headed pet instead. He’d bought her a ginger cat for her next nameday, an enormous fluffy beast she’d named Florian. Possibly the least intelligent animal Stannis had ever encountered.
Stannis and Florian eyed each other. Eventually Stannis shook his head, then retrieved a small portion of cooked chicken to the fridge, placing it in the cat bowl. “Don’t tell your mother I gave in to your demands,” he said to the absurd beast. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Clattering sounded in the family room, and he headed back to check on his daughters. They were varying degrees of damp but looked clean, so he nodded approvingly.
“Daddy, my dragon hair is all messed up,” said Cass sadly, coming to stand in front of him.
Kitty and Stef trailed behind their sister, wearing identical expressions of bystanders about to witness something intriguing.
Half of the six little knobs of hair atop Cassie’s head had come loose, and the rest listed drunkenly.
It had been some years since Stannis had to deal with so much hair.
Selyse had always insisted Shireen keep very short-cropped hair as a young child, much, as it transpired, to Shireen’s distress. It was a regrettable number of years before he’d realised this and intervened on his oldest daughter’s behalf.
He felt the usual sour feeling of regret that occurred whenever he recalled his missteps as Shireen’s parent, believing Selyse was adequately caring for the girl whilst he was frequently travelling for work. Shireen’s greyscale illness and subsequent scarring were far more severe than it would otherwise would have been due to a deliberate lack of conventional medical treatment when he’d been away by himself in Yi Ti for two months. He mentally shook himself. He couldn’t change the past, and he’d divorced Selyse and raised Shireen on his own when the neglect came to light. Selyse had washed her hands of them and moved to Asshai and he’d changed his job, so he no longer needed to travel.
Sansa, however, was an excellent mother, and while he still worked perhaps more than he should, he had no qualms about the standards of care his three younger daughters received.
Still, though, he could never quite shake the sadness that Shireen never had a mother who paid her an adequate level of care and attention. He’d tried to do right by his firstborn, but always felt as if he were falling short. It just never occurred to him to do something like devise an entire array of hairstyles just for her, based on creatures that she loved, as Sansa had for Cassie. All those years ago he’d paid, in desperation, for a local hairdresser to show him how to assist Shireen with her hair once it had grown out from the extremely short style Selyse had enforced. He’d been able to tie it in a neat bunch at the back of her head for her, but anything more elaborate eluded him.
Cass held out her hairbrush to him, lower lip wobbling dangerously. “Please Daddy?” she said, “my want to be a dragon again.”
He wished his younger daughters to understand how lucky they were to have Sansa as a mother, but also, he wanted them to not understand how lucky they were, because they shouldn’t know life could be any different.
Cass stood patiently as he removed all the ties that were holding her hair up. He carefully brushed out the tangles as her hair fell like fine black silk down her back.
Kitty edged around to peer at what he was doing. She’d always been vocal about her dislike of having her hair styled so hers was shoulder length, just long enough for Sansa to tie it back for school. “Why does Mama always do our hair and not you, Daddy? Is it because you don’t have any?”
He attempted to gather handfuls of Cassie’s hair, but it was too slippery and fine. He refrained from pointing out he did, in fact, have some hair left. “Your mother is your primary caregiver. Instead of going out to do paid work like I do, she chose to have her job to be caring for you and your sisters whilst you are very young.”
Kitty pursed her lips. “Don’t you like doing hair?”
Stannis gathered stray wisps of Cass’s hair with one hand and held it with the other. “Your mother is more skilled than myself at this,” he said, then paused and looked at Kitty. “I used to assist Shireen with her hair though.”
“Shireen always looks like a beautiful girl who has her very own house,” said Kitty thoughtfully.
“Luff ‘Neen,” said Stef, who was standing behind Kitty, watching the proceedings with interest.
“Yes, Shireen does look like that,” said Cass, in a considering tone. “Does my look like a dragon now, Daddy?”
Stannis carefully wrapped a hair elastic around the hair he’d gathered up. The lumpen mass of hair sat a little lopsided, but was largely contained. Kitty raised an eyebrow at him.
“You look a great deal like the dragon Sheepstealer,” said Stannis, narrowing his eyes at Kitty, trying to communicate wordlessly that she needn’t contradict.
Kitty shrugged, apparently happy to let him away with the small fiction.
Cass spun around and flung herself into his arms. “Mama hasn’t done this one yet! Thank you, Daddy, my loves Sheepstealer.”
Stannis automatically wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. He wasn’t a naturally physically affectionate person. He preferred demonstrating his regard in other ways. It was, however, important for the emotional well being of his family that he partook in and even initiated activities like hugging, so he did his best.
It helped tremendously that Sansa was so naturally demonstrative, so over the years he had become accustomed to it.
“You can get dressed into your night clothes and then stay up for a little while after, if your behaviour is acceptable.”
He took Stef’s hand as Kitty and Cass ran off to their rooms to choose their own night clothes.
Stef’s room was decorated with woodland creatures and Stef ran over to the pile of stuffed animals, woodland themed and otherwise, in the corner. She giggled as she flopped onto the pile of toys, scattering them.
“Would you like the pink cat, ah, onesie,” Stannis cringed as he said the ridiculous name Sansa insisted Stef’s all-in-one pajama suits were called, “the purple wolf onesie or the green dragon onesie?”
“Pink cat,” said Stef, coming over to adhere herself to his leg. He picked her up, remembering to kiss and hug her before he conducted her clothes changing routine of changing her nappy and dressing her in the ‘onesie’. The outfit had a hood with little pointed cat ears, and he pulled it up as Stef grinned at him.
She took his hand again, and he obligingly followed her back to the family room.
Cass was arrayed in matching pale blue dragon print pajamas with dragon themed slippers and a dragon print robe, though she’d also donned a violently pink tutu over the pajama pants.
Kitty wore what he knew was her favoured sleep clothing, plain navy-blue pajamas. She was also in the process of dragging a large plastic box across the floor.
“Can we play trains, Daddy?” asked Kitty, smiling beatifically, nodding towards the box. “While we wait to talk to Shireen.”
“Oh yes please,” said Cass. Her tutu jiggled as she quivered with glee. “My loves trains.”
“Nains!” said Stef, clapping her hands.
He tipped the contents of the box onto the floor to ensure equal access to the tracks and engines. The girls sat down on the floor beside the mass of tracks and trains and immediately started to play.
Stannis lowered himself to the ground next to little Stef, who patted his knee companionably before resuming her prior activity of rummaging through the tracks. He selected the nearest train, regarding it with satisfaction. He’d chosen this set himself. Wooden tracks made with excellent craftsmanship, with a variety of historically accurate replica toy trains.
He examined the train, running his thumb over the tiny wheels. “This is the Storm Queen,” he said fondly. “It used to run between Storm’s End and King’s Landing. The coal-fired engine had a power output of one hundred and thirty horsepower. The locomotive weighed twenty-six tonnes, and it had an early two-two-two-wheel arrangement. Notice the underslung water tank and the period accurate bottle-green livery.”
He held up the train and looked around to see if the girls were listening. Kitty was waving at Florian, clearly trying to attract his attention. Florian sat beside the door to the room, ostentatiously grooming. Stef was trying to fit two pieces of track together, scowling ferociously at them. Only Cass was looking at him, a glazed expression on her face, but she smiled politely when they made eye contact.
“That’s lovely, Daddy. My want this grey liv… liv-er-y train,” said Cassie, selecting a large locomotive with obvious care.
Stannis nodded in approval of her choice. “That’s a Bog Boy, which used to connect Winterfell with Darry. It ran on the first track built through the marshland of the Neck, hence the nickname. It has a very rare wheel arrangement, four-eight-eight-four. The four-wheel leading truck provided stability, two sets of eight driving wheels were situated in the middle and at the back four more wheels would support the firebox. It had an impressive maximum speed of one hundred and thirty kilometres per hour.”
Cass ran her finger over the pleasingly accurate arrangement of wheels on the bottom of the toy. “Thank you, Daddy,” she said in hushed tones.
“This blue one is better,” said Kitty, who now had Florian sprawled across her legs. The enormous beast was purring loudly. Stannis could hear it over the “Choo Choo” noises Stef was now making. “It’s bigger and bluer than your grey one.”
“They are both excellent trains,” said Stannis. “Kitty, you’ve chosen the Duck, the steam train that was the fastest ever produced. It had a four-six-two-wheel configuration, and the speed record it holds is for just over two hundred kilometres per hour. It weighed one hundred and sixty-five tones and was painted that striking garter blue.”
“Right,” said Kitty vaguely. “Um, thanks Daddy. See,” she said, turning to Cass. “It’s much bluer.”
Cass looked at Kitty and shrugged, then went back to building a track.
“Nains,” said Stef, waving a deep green replica of a Flying Northman and a segment of chunky wooden track around.
The urge for a cup of tea resurfaced. The girls seemed to be playing happily enough that he could risk going to the kitchen for a short period.
“I’m going to step out for a moment to make myself a hot drink.”
Kitty, who was assembling a complex track system, just grunted and didn’t look up.
“Okay Daddy, see you soon,” said Cass, saluting him with a Spirit of Dorne locomotive.
“Nains!” said Stef, who had now assembled a suspiciously large number of trains and discarded all her tracks.
He went through into the kitchen, only a short distance from the family room where the girls, cat and trains were.
He filled up the kettle and switched it on, finding a mug and tea bag whilst he waited for the water to boil.
His phone dinged with a message.
Davos: how’s the babysitting going?
He huffed indignantly. He held his friend and associate Davos Seaworth in high regard, but the man could be aggravating.
Stannis: it is not baby sitting when one is the parent, it is simply parenting. You of all people should know that.
Davos: lol, let me know if you need any help
Stannis frowned at the phone. He most certainly did not require help in caring for his children whilst his wife was having some much-needed leisure time.
He was suddenly and viscerally reminded of the times he’d phoned Marya Seaworth for assistance when caring for his younger children. When a six-month-old Kitty wouldn’t stop crying and then had a catastrophic nappy malfunction that led to Stannis having to take her into the shower fully clothed. Or when eighteen-month-old Cass had eaten the nib of a felt-tip pen and turned the entire lower half of her face blue with ink. Or when one-year-old Stef had eaten a bowl of Florian’s cat biscuits.
He winced as a shriek sounded from the direction of the girls.
“CASSANA STOP STEALING MY TRAINS,” shouted Kitty as he ran into the family room. She was clutching a Princess Argella to her chest.
The normally mild-mannered Cassie was red faced and brandishing a Targaryen’s Rocket. “YOU ARE A BAD GIRL, KITTY. A VERY NAUGHTY GIRL,” she shrieked. “THAT IS MY TRAIN!”
“TITTY, MOVE. TASSIE, NO,” howled Steffi, indiscriminately destroying the assembled tracks.
Florian’s ears flattened, and he ran out of the room, his portly stomach swaying wildly from side to side as he ran.
Stannis envied him.
“Girls…” he began.
“I’M TELLING DADDY ON YOU.” Kitty’s face was scarlet.
“MY TELLING DADDY ON YOU.” Cass pointed at her older sister.
Stef tipped her head back and the pink cat-eared hood flopped backwards. She let out an ear-piercing scream, her chubby fists clenched.
“STOP SHOUTING,” shouted Stannis.
There was an abrupt silence.
“Thank you,” he said in a more moderate tone. “You must play nicely, or I will send you all to bed immediately.”
“Okay Daddy,” said Cass, calming down immediately. “My can be a good girl.”
“Nains,” muttered Stef, eyeing her sister’s trains.
“Fine,” said Kitty, crossing her arms and scowling. She hunched her shoulders forward, but began reassembling the tracks.
“I expect you to play nicely whilst I finish preparing my drink.”
The silence, as Stannis returned to the kitchen and made himself a restorative cup of tea, felt vaguely ominous.
Florian slunk into the room. He looked around, then waddled up to Stannis and squeaked out a pleading meow.
“I already fed y…” Stannis started to say, then groaned. He retrieved another slice of chicken from the fridge and tossed it to Florian. “Enjoy. At least one of us will get to eat in a timely manner.”
Another howl of fury sounded from the family room. ‘Ours is the fury’ indeed. Sometimes Stannis got the distinct impression that whoever had come up with the ancient words of their house had been referring to Baratheon daughters.
“YOU’RE A TERRIBLE GIRL,” roared Kitty as he returned to the room, mug of tea in hand this time. “THAT IS NOT HOW YOU SHOULD PLAY. I’M NEVER PLAYING WITH YOU EVER EVER AGAIN.”
Cass pointed at Kitty. “YOU ARE NOT MY FRIEND, KITTY.”
“NAINS,” screamed Stef, now completely surrounded by purloined trains. “MY NAINS.” She tried to gather all the trains into her arms, locomotives spilling everywhere.
Stannis could feel a headache starting behind his eyes. “THAT IS IT,” he said loudly. “GO TO BED. ALL OF YOU.”
Before he’d had time to blink, Kitty was clutching both of her younger sisters. “But Daddy, Cass and Stef are my very best friends.”
Cass returned the embrace. “Daddy, no, I need my lovely girls. My loves them.”
Stef poked her little head out of the group embrace, her wispy black hair mussed and sticking up in various directions. “Luff Titty and Tass.”
Stannis took a long, calming breath. His head throbbed in response. “I shall finish my cup of tea, then contact Shireen to say goodnight to you all. You will play nicely for five more minutes then pack up.”
Kitty pursed her lips the way she did when deep in thought. “We’re the best girls, Daddy,” she said serenely. Her sisters nodded in agreement.
Stannis’s phone dinged with a message.
Sansa: hope you are having fun with the girls! The food at the Free Folk restaurant was delicious, we’ll have to go there, I think you’d like it. The movie was great too, we’re just going out for coffee so Jeyne can tell us the deets of her new job then I’ll come home. Love you xxxooo 😍
Even after almost ten years of marriage Stannis still couldn’t quite believe such an exceptional woman as Sansa Stark had chosen him. He took a photo of the now calm siblings playing with the train set.
Stannis: [img1375]
Stannis: I’m pleased you are having an enjoyable time. Do not hurry home on our account. The children are occupied and content. I love you.
‘Occupied and content’ might be overstating the case, given the recent display of fury, but he wished for Sansa to have a relaxing outing, free of any worries. He nursed his tea as he watched the children.
“Bog Boy is the fastest boy,” said Cass, cradling the locomotive in her arms and rocking it like an infant. “And he has pretty grey liv-er-y.”
“Duck went faster,” said Kitty in a lecturing tone. “Two hundred kilometres per hour.”
“Nains!” said Stef cheerfully, arranging her trains in size order.
Stannis made a mental note to purchase a children’s fact book about locomotives. He could read it aloud to them. Kitty may wish to assist, as her reading skills had improved greatly of late.
Florian ventured back into the room, chirping a delicate meow then carefully picking his way through the mess of train tracks and flopping into the middle of everything.
“Silly Florian,” said Cass, giggling. “Your fat belly is squashing all the tracks.”
Kitty reached over to rub Florian’s belly. The enormous beast rolled onto his back in response, exposing a mass of ginger fluff. “Mama says he isn’t fat, he’s just a thick boy who likes his chicken.”
Cass gently poked Florian’s belly, which jiggled. “Wobble belly Florian,” she said, then laughed.
Stannis drained the rest of his drink. “Kindly pack up the train set now,” he said. “And I shall contact your older sister.”
Kitty gave a dramatic huff, but began to pack up and place the items back in the box.
“We’re the tidy girls,” sang Cass, gathering up an armful of tracks, “we’re the tidiest girls of all.”
“Bye bye nains,” said Stef sadly, placing her collection of trains back in the box one by one.
Stannis: good evening. Are you available for a video call with your sisters?
Shireen: hi dad. I’m here, just call w/e 😊
“We can take the call in Stef’s room,” he said to the girls when they’d packed away the train set. “I believe Cass was the host was last time, and Kitty the time before that.”
Kitty nodded. “Yeah, it’s Stef’s turn.” She turned to her youngest sister. “Can I hold Bun-bun when we’re in your room?” she said, referring, as Stannis recalled, to one of Stef’s soft toys.
“And my hold Baby?” Cass chimed in, clasping her hands under her chin. “And you can have Bwah?”
Stef pursed her lips, then nodded. “Yes,” she said solemnly.
The girls trooped off to Stef’s room, where the tiny hostess handed out the assigned toys with all due ceremony and Stannis activated his video call application.
Shireen’s face appeared on the screen.
“Hi Dad,” she said. “I’ve almost finished the research for the Umber file. I found some precedents that might suit the case, but they are somewhat archaic. Uncle Renly wanted me to email him a copy, but I’ll CC you in too.”
“That would be acceptable,” Stannis said, frowning at her, “but please take the rest of the night off. The Umber file can wait until business hours tomorrow.”
Shireen rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Fine. I do have that new issue of ‘Westerosi Tax Law Monthly’ to read, which I’ve been looking forward to. I might have a glass of wine and read it in the bath or something.”
Kitty’s dark head poked up in front of the screen, in between Stannis’s arms. “Hi Shireen,” she said, jiggling with excitement. “I called mean old Jory Karstark a dumb dumb head at school today and he cried. And we practiced our drawing, so I made a wolf for Aunty Arya. Oh, and look, Stef let me hold Bun-bun.” Kitty waved a ragged and floppy toy rabbit in front of the screen.
“Hi Kitty and Bun-bun,” said Shireen, “It sounds like you’ve had a busy day, I’d love to hear ab…”
“Shireen!” said Cass, trying to insert herself beside Kitty, an unsettlingly realistic baby doll cradled in her arms. “Daddy made me into Sheepstealer, and my played with Bog Boy, and at Kindy we learned about washing our hands.”
Stannis gave up trying to hold the tablet and handed it to Kitty, who bounded over to Stef’s bed, Cass hot on her heals. Florian appeared from nowhere and jumped up after them, chirping with excitement.
“’Neen?” said Stef, looking bewildered, a bright blue lizard soft toy hanging from her hand. Stannis picked up his youngest child, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Luff you Daddy,” she said sweetly.
“And I love you,” he said, placing her on the bed beside her sisters.
“’NEEN!” Stef bellowed, hurling herself in front of the screen. “LUFF ‘NEEN.”
Stannis sat on the end of Stef’s bed, watching as all four of his daughters chattered excitedly to each other. He couldn’t quite believe what a fortunate man he was. Until his long acquaintanceship with Sansa Stark had become friendship, then romance, he’d never have imagined he would have such a large, happy, family.
***
All three girls and one cat were asleep, and he was watching an online lecture about the post-conquest battle between Targaryen and Arryn naval forces in the sea near Gulltown, when Sansa came home.
“Did you have a pleasant time?” he asked, pausing his video, and standing up to greet her.
“I did,” she said, stepping into his embrace and burying her face in his neck. She always claimed being close to him was calming, and that he smelled like home. “I missed you though.”
“As we missed you. There was almost a rebellion over dragon nuggets.”
“Oh gods, you gave them grilled chicken again, didn’t you?”
“It’s nutritionally viable. Regardless, I informed them it was Shireen’s favourite meal as a young girl.”
Sansa tipped her head back and laughed. “That’s genius, though I’m absolutely telling Shireen you used her good name to lie to her sisters.”
Stannis huffed. “It was more of a stretching of truth. She certainly ate that meal as a child.”
“But favourite?”
Stannis rolled his eyes. “Dragon nuggets were, I believe, her preferred meal.”
“Thank you for looking after the girls so I could have some time off,” Sansa said, standing on tiptoes so she could kiss him.
“Thank you for not calling it babysitting,” he murmured against her lips.
Sansa leaned her head back and rolled her eyes but smiled at him. “It’s not babysitting if you are the parent. As you say, it’s simply parenting.”