(2024-10-24) Karson's Cough

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Author:	MrMook
Summary:	Karson starts coughing in the middle of the night. Atley responds and reflects on recent events.
Rating:	T for Teen

By the time Karson’s coughing fit began, Atley was already awake. “I’ll take him,” he growled to Ivrianna, throwing off his covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Moving with the urgency of a fire drill, he leapt into his trousers, pulled on his boots, and threw an old flannel over his shoulders so quickly that he heard a thread snap at the seam.

Fang stood dutifully outside the door, in the middle of raising a paw to scratch on it when Atley swung it open. Atley paused to pat the concerned dog briefly between the ears before he sped past and headed for the crib.

Inside, Karson was a picture of dismay, his chubby cheeks flushed as he writhed, his little chest twitching in between haggard coughs and pitiful cries. He kicked feebly in the soft, hand-tailored pajamas that Cressidha had made for him.

Already, Atley was shushing him, his hands lowering to gather the soft, despairing little figure. Tucking Karson against his shoulder, he descended the stairs and rounded the corner, with Fang haunting his steps. He swung open the front door and slipped outside, leaving the hound behind to keep watch over the others.

Atley settled down on their porch in the crisp October air and gently patted Karson’s back as the infant continued to wheeze. Tucking Karson’s ever-growing but still tiny body into the bend of his arm, Atley began to rub his belly. Karson took a deep breath and let out another laborious string of coughing.

Leaning back, Atley looked up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and the stars glittered above them—far, distant, and silent like an ocean of jewels. “That’s it, little one,” Atley murmured quietly. “Have a look.” Karson’s bright blue eyes widened, peering past his father’s beard to take in the heavens, only closing with each cough.

Karson had experienced coughing fits before. Atley’s sister-in-law, Amory—a veteran mother—had told them that cool air could have a soothing effect on a toddler’s airways. Whenever Atley was home, he insisted on being the one to take the boy outside.

Fatherhood had brought many joys and fears, but none as persistent and unnameable as the dread he felt when he received the call to arms to Deepholm—a dread tied to faces he could barely remember.

Atley still had a vivid memory of his parents—less so of his father, and mostly of his mother—but as much as he liked to try and believe otherwise, he couldn’t make out their faces, not properly. He assumed his father looked much like him, and his mother’s visage shifted so often in his memory that he couldn’t be sure. However, he remembered their warmth and their love, more tangible than any discernible image, and certainly more than their long-forgotten names.

He had resolved that nothing in this world, or any other, would deprive his children of their father. An intense determination settled within him that Karson would never struggle to remember his father’s face. He felt Karson’s small, pink hands clutch his fingers and give them a squeeze. Atley squeezed back, another wave of guilt washing over him.

He was going to miss Karson’s first birthday. The realization struck him like a chill as soon as he’d read the summons. But even then, he knew he would answer it. He had given his oaths, and beyond that, Cobalt Company needed him. He had long ago faced the demands of knighthood and what it would mean for his family. White Squad had been stranded beneath the ocean for weeks, and even then, Atley knew that if he refused this call, others would willingly sacrifice even more to take his place.

He could never allow himself to abandon his duties, knowing such indulgence would never end once it began. Besides, a part of him wanted to continue the fight—it was what he was built for. The recent destruction of Stormwind still demanded vengeance that was dearly owed.

Still, the thought tightened into a knot in his chest. He understood, rationally, that his lifelong duties would often keep him away from family, but the reality was more painful when the only blood relative he had left in the world was warm and helpless in his arms, utterly dependent on him. His love for his growing family had illuminated places in his heart he’d forgotten existed, making him vulnerable in ways no sword or shield could defend against.

He leaned down to kiss Karson’s wrinkled forehead, taking care to lightly scrape his beard against the child’s skin. He gently rocked the coughing toddler, contracting and relaxing his hand around the little fingers, as if to impress upon Karson the memory of his warmth and his affection. Atley felt no fear of whatever foe awaited them in this Plane of Earth. He would return, but any absence from the child, especially at such a young age, was torture.

Atley raised his gaze and took in the sleepy logging camp. All the cabin windows were dark, and aside from a faint breeze rustling through the leaves, the only sounds were the horses shifting in their stalls—one of which would belong to Karson in time. Only after confirming it was just the two of them did he begin to sing.

He kept his voice to a low growl, even lower than usual. It was a dwarvish ballad, a lamentation composed in honor of the mythic Modimus Anvilmar. It spoke of ancient halls, of forges growing cold, of storied craftsmen and legendary battles. He had rarely sung it in public, at most humming it absentmindedly while working the forge. Only after Karson's birth had Ivrianna herself caught him singing it to soothe the child in moments of distress.

Atley had committed the ballad to memory the first time he heard Galvan the Ancient break the hearts of a troop of soldiers around a campfire with it. The foreign words vibrated through Atley’s chest and into Karson’s small body. Though mournful, the ballad held an earnest beauty that eased the mind and heart.

The coughing persisted for a while, but as Atley continued the verses, Karson slowly began to settle, his bright blue Barlowe eyes growing heavy. Atley swept his thumb over the boy’s chubby cheeks, wiping away any lingering tears.

Karson turned his face toward his father’s chest to escape the chill, curling into his warmth. Atley trailed off, leaning down to whisper, “You’ll know me, lad. You’ll know me.”