Robb isn’t a terribly rich king. He is not like the one on the Iron Throne and he does not have an ability to shit gold. Somewhere deep inside of him he hopes she’d come for him. To tell him that he should not have married lady Roslin because his heart lies with her. And in some wilder imaginations they will escape this world, this war, this life and live happily ever after somewhere else far away.

Of course, he is in no way able to relax. His muscles ache a little from all the tension and it feels as if he grows more and more weary with every second that passes.

“A cottage...?” he asks. “There are pillagers and raiders all around and the realm is at war. There are not many houses that still stand, lady Westerling. Even if I wanted to...I cannot give you that...” But then it hits him and he freezes in his chair, fingernails digging into the wood of his chair a little bit more.

“Children?” Mine? They very well could be. After all, he spilled his seed inside of her. “More than one?”