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He rushes into the room, his movements almost unrecognisable because Stannis Baratheon doesn’t rush; he strides, purposefully. But he received the call that Selyse was in hospital and he came as soon as he could, not again, he’d prayed to the gods he didn’t believe in, not again.
Nurses bustle about the room, there’s blood, and mess and in the middle of the room is Selyse, alone.
There’s a cot in the corner with a bundle inside.
He goes to Selyse first though and there are tears down her face, they keep falling as she turns to him and speaks to him so weakly “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Stannis.” She sobs and can’t continue.
He takes her hand because that’s what people do and the words don’t come any easier than the previous three times. He just holds her limp hand and stands there, pathetically.
“Mr Baratheon?” A young nurse breaks him out of his reverie. He turns to her and she’s holding a bundle of pink in her arms, beaming at him “Would you like to hold your daughter?”
His arms act of their own accord accepting the proffered bundle, his face questions the nurse wordlessly.
“She’s a little early, and a tad underweight, your wife and daughter will have to stay in overnight, but after the doctor comes in and checks tomorrow morning, everyone should be able to go home.”
Her eyes are closed and she’s sleeping so soundly he’s scared to speak, that the rumble of his chest might wake her.
He turns to Selyse and shows her. “Our baby” he whispers, “Our baby girl”. He’s smiling, not beaming like most new fathers or cheering like his brother Robert did. But he’s smiling a small happy smile and for him it’s the most open he’s been with his emotions in a long time, it leaves him feeling vulnerable but warm like the babe in his arms.
The nurse leaves discretely to give the couple more privacy.
Selyse turns away shaking her head.
Stannis looks between his daughter and his wife confused, his words failing him once again. The baby wakes, blue eyes, such large blue eyes, looking at him, straight at him. He pulls his lips upwards like a smile, because his mother always told him to smile when holding the baby.
He tries again, because maybe Selyse didn’t hear, maybe she didn’t understand, their child, their daughter had lived.
“Our daughter, Selyse, we have a daughter.” He holds the girl closer to her mother so that they might see each other better.
And in the most sorrowful tone she replies “it was meant to be a boy, I prayed so hard, everyday, why couldn’t it have been a boy?”
He’d been happy, so genuinely happy for a short few moments, but it was such a vulnerable feeling, such fragile state. As Selyse turned away again sobbing quietly, Stannis held his baby pulling her back to him, close to his chest. Looking down at her, she was staring back up to him with her innocent blue eyes, with his blue eyes and his heart broke, just a little.