widow_of_the_crag | [Musebox] - "I Told Robb I’m Sure to Give Him Twins"

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musebox

[Musebox] - "I Told Robb I’m Sure to Give Him Twins"

She had comforted Robb in his grief as he recovered from the news of Winterfell. His two younger brothers had been killed and his home seized by a man he considered a friend. It was a loss that had rendered him broken and vulnerable, struggling to find some foothold in the midst of his sorrow. Jeyne had offered her embrace and then her body, allowing his anguish to be buried into her again and again. In that moment, she hadn't seen the king that had taken her family home or the Young Wolf that had captured her father. She saw a boy no older than she was, suffering and broken.

But that had only lasted a night. She lingered in his bed until he had fallen asleep, feeling a pang of regret that hadn't existed before. Her mother had always been strict in her upbringing, reminding Jeyne that she was worthy of a Lannister and should conduct herself as befitting such a bride. While those marriages had never appeared, it was a lesson her mother wouldn't let her forget. So how would she respond, knowing her daughter had bedded the man that had laid siege on them.

Perhaps as well, she was a craven, afraid to see any shame in his eyes or a dismissal in his tone. She was a maid when he took her. It took more courage than she believed she possessed to let her body speak in place of her head. Yet it seemed none of that remained by the time the sun crested the horizon.

She hid away during the rest of his stay at his castle, only emerging from her rooms in time to hear him name another as keeper of the Crag in his absence. There was something he had to see to in the Riverlands before continuing onward to Casterly Rock. Her last glimpse of him was as he steered his horse from the courtyard and left with a large company, his hair tussling in the wind. She shielded her heart from the pain of that sight and feigned the same relief her mother exhibited. It didn't matter. None needed to know what happened between them. It was possible to pretend that she was as innocent as before, even if her heart knew otherwise.

***

A year passed, one of hardship and heartbreak. In the company of a young maid from the Crag, Jeyne appeared in Robb's camp, the battle against the Lannisters still strong. She wrapped herself in a frayed cloak, dressing no better than a servant herself. Her maid remained behind as Jeyne searched the campgrounds for the King's tent. There were others in his presence, men that were helping him plan for the coming battle, many of them were figures she recognized. Great Jon Umber, Lord Karstark, and Roose Bolton, men that left her trembling.

She cleared her throat, a bit more loudly than she intended. The men looked up at her, but none seemed to know her. She pulled back her hood, waiting to see that acknowledgement in Robb's eyes. "I have come to see King Robb."

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Somewhere between battles and invading the Westerlands he married Roslin. It was a short feast. Nothing great and fancy. It was true that she was more beautiful than most of Frey's daughters. Still, she wasn't like Jeyne. Her face was friendly but without warmth and her teats were smaller than apples. She had cried during the bedding, scared of what he would do to her. There wasn't a click between them, yet it was his duty to make her his wife, to make sure she'd carry an heir. And he had tried to assure her, to tell her about Winterfell and the North. That it wasn't as harsh and cold as in most stories.

He had hoped to marry and fall in love. Yet he found nothing about her that he could love. But then again, it had stopped being about what he wanted ages ago. His life has been about duty, about wha the owes his men, the North, his crown. And somewhere along all that Robb lost himself.

And even though he had visited Roslin quite some times, hoping his seed would take root inside of her, nothing ever happened. Eventually he feared she was barren, yet he did not speak the words. When Roslin spoke of her moon blood he faked a smile and told her that it wasn't a bad thing. Next time would be better. And she would nod and give him a fake smile as well.

There were times he thought about Jeyne. That sweet girl from the Crag with her brown curls and kind eyes. It felt different with her. He could have loved her if duty did not demand of him that he kept his promise to house Frey. Robb had grown tall over that year and he was no longer without beard either. Yet headaches plagued him almost every hour of the day and at times it felt as if he was going to snap in two under all that pressure.

Robb hears her voice but does not look up when she mentions her name. He is too busy gazing at the map and giving orders to lord Bolton to take a smaller path that should go parallel with the King's Road.

"I will be with you shortly," he finally mutters.

She had heard that Robb had wed Roslin Frey, marriage beneath him his standing, but one of importance...or so her mother said. She had remarked on it with a hint of animosity in her voice, barely disguising her disgust for the Stark King. While she had pressed her daughter to care for him, once he had ridden through the gates of the courtyard, her mother's smiles turned to scowls.

Perhaps that should have given her pause, but there was a necessity to see him when there hadn't been before. After the long distance she had traveled, any uncertainty or apprehension she might have felt otherwise had to be removed. She was already a fallen woman in the eyes of Westeros.

The men turned their attention back towards their distracted king, effectively dismissing her from their presence without a word. While she might have shrank back and hurried away, Jeyne held firm to her determination to speak with her former lover. Time had been kind to him, only enhancing his looks, though now it seemed that he was exhausted and further strained than before. They both had carried a great deal, unspoken burdens and worries.

"Your grace." She said again, more firmly than before. "I'm Jeyne of House Westerling."

The sound of her name makes him look up again, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. Of course he remembers her. He thinks of her frequently and he fantasizes about all those 'what if's'. But after those fantasies have gone he always realizes who he is now. A king married to a woman that is distant from him. They would not be like his lord father and lady mother once were. Strangers upon marriage turning into lovers over the years.

He can feel the eyes of his men burning on his skin. Expecting that their king would dispose quickly of this woman that entered their tent without permission.

"It is not acceptable to enter without permission, my lady. You should know of that." There is no anger in his voice, just a certain sort of fatigue. He nods at his guards. "Take her to my tent. I will speak to her when I am done here."

She can feel the hard stares of Robb's men but pushes them from her mind. Robb's eyes find hers and everything else drains away. Her fears, her anxieties and the difficulties she had faced were replaced with a feeling of calm that filled her as she gazed back at him, the blueness of his eyes entrancing her. She had only shared his bed once, but she could remember now in seeing him why she had. His heart was clear within his gaze and it was purer than any man she had known before.

It seemed that time dragged on as she waited for him to answer her. There was never a question of him sending her away. Whatever she worried his response to her would be, he would never be the sort of man that would send away a lady in distress. His rebuke seemed more for show than any genuine reprimand. She simply brushed it aside, keeping her eyes leveled with his.

She curtsied, following the guards towards Robb's tent. She would need to send for her maid, but for now, she wanted to prepare him for what she had come to say. She seated herself on the edge of his bed, looking about the room curiously, trying to focus on what she would say to him. For so long, she had waited for this meeting, but hadn't thought of what to do when the moment came.

A figure approached the tent and she quickly got to her feet. "Robb?"

It takes a little time to regain his king again after her sudden appearance. What would she do here? Why would she travel after him? Of course he regrets a lot of things concerning her presence in his life yet Robb has never been a man who dared to listen to his own heart. And he did not want his men to know any of it.

"Why haven't you sent a raven?" It is the first thing that comes from his mouth when he enters his tent. "I could have come to the Crag to speak..."

He stops at the table and finally sinks into a large chair with wolves carved into the wood. A chair fit for a king.

"It must have been urgent...for you to come like this..."

She shot to her feet when he entered the tent, her hands fidgeting nervously in front of her, as she often did when uncertain and afraid. She had practiced this so often in her head, but whatever she had decided upon disappeared almost instantly at the sight of his face. He seemed beleaguered and tired, not the honest and fragile man she had seen during that solitary night. It was a side of him that she had seen at a distance, but had never experienced face to face before.

"I don't reside at the Crag any longer." She answered truthfully, her fingers twisting painfully. "Even if I did, would it be possible for you to leave your men to come and see me? I am unimportant compared to the war."

She nodded, staring at the carved wolves, tracing them with her eyes. He was King Robb now, not her lover. She needed to remember that.

"It is. I am in need of your help."

“You cannot stay here,” he answers immediately after she states she doesn’t live at the Crag anymore. While speaking he looks at her with a concentrated sort of look on his face, aware of what he could have had. This sweet woman with her kind voice and soothing hands. “I cannot...unfortunately war does not wait for no one.”

He allows himself to sit back a little, fingers curling around the sturdy, dark wood. And at her words he nods slowly. It would only be fair to be of help, after all, he took her maidenhood.

“Hmn...very well. What is it you need?”

Gold, probably. The Westerlings did not strike him as a very wealthy house.

"I know." It was a difficult subject and painful for her to admit that she couldn't remain with him. However much she might wish it, he was wed and his men wouldn't react well to a Westerling in their camp. She was a member of the rival house, her father vocally pledged to the Lannisters, despite his continued captivity. He was at least treated kindly. News was sent to the Stark soldiers who held the Crag, which they kindly related to the family. Her place was not here and not with her family. "That isn't why I am here.

She flinched. It was gold she needed, but it seemed so crude to openly state it. As though she were a harlot who had not received payment for her services. She had bedded him because she loved him...loves him still. However, with no place in the camp and no home to return to, she didn't have the time to dance around the subject.

"I wish that I didn't have to ask this of you, but I need help. I wish to purchase a cottage, something smile but large enough for me and my children." The words were a jumble in her head. The gravity of her news lost among the request itself. She wasn't certain which was more difficult to say. Money or the children she bore him.

"It doesn't need to be very much. I have nothing and no one else to turn to."

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?”

Her expression falls at his dismissal of the cottage. She had pinned her hopes on a home, having nowhere else beyond Robb's camp. It wasn't her place to stay here. Another woman was wed to Robb and shared his bed. She stood as Queen while Jeyne was nothing more than a former lover, now left deflowered and with two bastards she couldn't provide for. No matter where she traveled now, others would know that she was unmarried and a lady of some breeding. Her standing would be less than the common folk. She was nothing more than a whore.

She twisted her fingers more painfully, fighting the impulse to run or cry. It served no purpose now and would only turn this meeting awkward. It wasn't how she wanted to remember him or their night together.

Without a way to provide for her sons, she would be forced to watch them starve or lower herself to an occupation that she desperately hoped to avoid. "Twin sons," she said softly, her face distant as she stared across the tent thoughtfully. "I shouldn't have come, forgive me." She rose to her feet, trying to find the most graceful way to end the conversation and leave.

Robb notices that the look on her face changes at his words. He cannot give her a cottage and guarantee her safety with that. Most cottages were burned down and the people that used to live in it got killed.

“Lady Westerling...Jeyne...” he says with a look on his face that makes him look at least 10 years older. “I would not know of a cottage in a safe town.”

She looks as if she wants to leave and Robb leans forward in his chair, slowly moving to take his crown off and place it on the table next to him. He had always hoped for children, in fact, he had no bigger dream than to be able to hold his son one day. To see him grow and be there when he would wed. But Roslin could not give him any. Whenever he was with her he bedded her, but his seed never took root. Her moon blood always came.

But now Jeyne appeared again, telling him of twins. Two boys. His boys.

“I wish to see them...” Robb says, looking directly at her. And when she rises to leave he shakes his head firmly. “My sons...before you leave, let me look upon them.” Finally he stands as well and walks towards her.

“Where are they?”

"Then simply give me enough to pay for passage on a ship." Her voice was near desperate, afraid for the life she might be subjected to. "What little I owned, I had to give away so that I could come here. I have nothing, your grace. There is nowhere else I can go. My family will not see me, they will not keep me under their roof." Too much had been said, more than she wished to reveal or share. But everything she had kept buried and restrained had broken free and she felt herself close to tears.

"I have no wish to bring dishonor to your family or to your lady wife. None need to know the circumstances of what happened. I had only hoped that..." She took a shuddering breath. "I only need a little coin. The rest I shall try to do alone."

Her boys were all she had left now, twins that she had born away from the Crag. When she had discovered her state, her mother had pressed her to take something to rid herself of the children. For the first time in her life, she fought against her mother's will, refusing and cursing the thought. For her obstinance, she was cast out of her home and branded as little more than a whore. One of her maids, a woman she had known since birth, followed her and took her to her father's cottage. There, she had pushed out her sons.

The long road that lead her back to Robb had taught her that she shouldn't have faith in kindness. There was little sympathy for women in her position. Often she had to sleep in the wild, as many turned her away and refused her a bed. Those that offered her one were men that had something else in mind. The mud was more comfortable than stooping to that level. Now that she was here, she had hoped for something, anything that could help her. But once more, she was left with no home and no aid.

She didn't meet his eyes, her fingers twisted painfully between her hands. "There is an inn nearby. The woman who runs it agreed to let me stay in the stables. My maid is caring for them there."

Of course they would not. A highborn woman who lost her maidenhood and mothered two bastards wasn't welcome anywhere. She wasn't worth anything to her house, no lord would take her as a wife. And Robb can feel the weight on his shoulders grow with every second that passes. He should give her the money so she could find her peace somewhere else. Yet, on the other hand there was a burning desire to see his sons.

"I will see to that..." he finally says before he rolls his shoulders to rid himself of the stiffness that has settled inside his bones. "...I can arrange a ship for you... I..." A flash of anger appears in his eyes but when he focuses his gaze on her again it has disappeared. Robb does not like it when words fail him.

Finally he reaches for his cloak and fastens it quickly. One part of him wants to assure her that everything will be well, another part of him aches for the sight of his own sons but the part of him that has been pronounced king a couple of years ago is the part he shows to others. Stern, yet just. Honorable and loyal.

"Rise..." he says. "...And cover your face with the hood of your cloak. Leave for the inn. I will meet you there when the night falls."

She curtsies, sensing the sudden shift in his mood and bearing. He wasn't Robb any longer, not the man that she loved and the man whose bed she shared. He was king and the warrior that had seized the Crag. It wasn't a side of him that she had seen in a long while, not since he left to continue further in the Westerlands. There was a part of her that wanted him to refuse to let her leave, to insist in keeping her somewhere that he could visit, where she could raise their sons. However, she knew he was wed and had no place in his life.

She pulled her hood over her head, ragged and torn from the harsh weather. She was a nobleman's daughter, but it seemed to exist in bearing only. There was nothing noble about her any longer. Without a word, she slipped out of the tent and returned to the inn.

***

The twins were fussy that evening, not having eaten very well or gotten much sleep. Though this was the only existence they had known. Cold and difficult conditions that gave little comfort to them all.

The stables were secluded, very few had stopped at the inn and bought a room. There was a vacancy, but the stables were all that Jeyne was given. Having spread a blanket in one of the stalls, she bounced one of her sons on her knee, trying to hush his cries. He was so loud that she missed the sound of someone entering the stables.

Robb had been close to some sort of panic. After Jeyne left he spent 10 minutes pacing through his tent with his cloak on. He desires nothing more than to see his sons. And the biggest part sees them as his sons, yet his men would always refer to him as King Robb's bastards. And the world would too.

But he could not deny their existence. He could not go on while knowing they were in this world. He had to acknowledge them, it would be the right thing to do. They would have a good life. It would be what his father would have done in his stead.

And Jeyne... Sweet Jeyne with her kind face and soft hands. She does not deserve a life like that. Yet, he cannot give her a better life. Not without waking the anger of his good family.

----

Robb arrives together with his uncle Edmure and a couple of guards. Uncle Edmure has been informed about the situation, yet the guards have not. And Robb wants to keep it that way. At least, until he has found a solution to this problem. But the closer he comes to the stables, the faster his heart starts to beat, the more he hopes.

When he opens the door that leads to the stables he can hear the cries of a child. Louder than he expected them to be. He is alone and left his sword with his uncle. A soft, shuddering sigh leaves his mouth.

"Jeyne...?"

She felt her freeze momentarily when she heard Robb's voice. Holding Eddard closer to her, she pushed herself up to greet the King in the North. She dipped another curtsy, shifting her child in her arms as he continued to cry. He had the red hair of his father, but the brown eyes of his mother. Both boys similar in appearance, though Brandon's coloring was closer to brown than red. Despite the lack of food, they were big children, larger than expected for such a small girl.

Her eyes were lowered submissively, worried at what he might say to her. There was a chance that he would be unable to give her anything, no passage for a boat, no coin to survive on. For so long, she had lived through the worst. It was difficult to break free of that expectation.

"Your grace." She glanced over her shoulder as her maid appeared, holding Brandon for Robb's inspection. Unlike his brother, he was quieter, though still sniffling and unhappy.

There wasn't much light in the stables. Just a few candles that lit up the area where Jeyne and her maid stayed. In a stable, surrounded by horse shit. He isn't wearing his crown when he approaches her and all he does is moving a hand through his hair, hoping it would stop clinging against his forehead.

"Robb..." he answers, eyes focused on the child she is carrying. The hard expression leaves his face the second he sees the boy move, shoulders shaking with every cry that leaves its mouth. And then there is the second one. Quiet but obviously unhappy.

"May I...?" The tone of his voice is small and insecure when he reaches for the crying boy. "If you will it... of course."

She hesitated, if only because of the child's fussy nature. This was an important moment and her son was less than endearing in this state. He had never been a calm child, a stark contrast to his namesake. There was nothing quiet about this Eddard. It was a momentary pause before she offered out her son. "I named him for your father." A possible breach of propriety, but she had taken the chance, knowing what his father meant to him.

Her eyes cast over to the second child. "I named him Brandon." The brother he lost and the one that he had wept for before she came to Robb's bed. The maid, catching Jeyne's eye, held out the boy for Robb as well. "I'm sorry that they are not better behaved. They are hungry, but won't eat." She had long ago weaned them, but they still preferred liquid milk to softer foods.

"They are usually quieter." They had to be, as the strangers they sometimes stayed with wouldn't accept crying children.

Robb smiles when he takes the boy from Jeyne's hands and holds him tight against himself, combing his fingers through the short mop of auburn hair.

"Shh..." It all seems to fee; natural for him. As if he has not done anything else in his life than holding his children while he knows that that would never be the case. But despite his soft words of comfort the child seems to struggle in his arms, not wanting to be held. The look on his face drops a little and eventually he has to give him back to Jeyne.

"No I..." Another soft sigh escapes his mouth and he bites his lip briefly. "You raised them well... I am honored you gave them Northern names..." Little Brandon is a lot more quiet but also does not feel comfortable in the arms of his father, a complete stranger. And Robb can't get the words out.

"I have brought something to eat."

She can see his disappointment and feels as though she somehow failed as a mother. They should know their father and understand who he was, but they instinctively did not trust strangers. Jeyne was closed off whenever she crossed paths with someone, afraid how they would respond to her and how her children would be treated. They understood and followed her closed off nature, knowing little warmth in their short lives.

"He is only hungry." She whispered, trying to find a way to comfort Robb at their response. Eddard fought in her arms, close to a tantrum. The mention of food brought visible relief to Jeyne's eyes. She turned to her maid, silently asking her to go fetch the food for them. "Thank you, your grace." The formal term a habit. It left her mind that he had asked her to use his name.

Her face lightened, grateful that he wasn't upset with her for naming their sons after his family. "I hope they live up to their namesakes." She didn't know Bran, but she knew Ned Stark's reputation. He was a strong, stoic man. If only his grandson understood that concept.

"We will need to ration it." She said as an aside to her maid. "Look to see that we have enough to survive on."

"Let us sit down..." This is a place unworthy of his sons or the woman he once bedded. A big, angry part of Robb wants to go inside the inn and undo this. In his name. But that would start rumors, it would be unwise. "Worry not...I...they do not know me. I am just another stranger."

Finally Robb sits on the ground, leaving the bale of hay for Jeyne and the boys.

When the maid leaves Robb looks at Jeyne with a tired expression on his face.

"I have never been able to forget you... Even after I got wed..." There is an apologetic tone to his voice. "These words must sound empty to you and without meaning. After all...you are raising my sons surrounded by horse shit and I wear a crown." As he mumbles the words he reaches out to Brandon, touching his small hand and watching the little fingers attached to it wiggle in response.

She offered a finger to Eddard, letting him suck on the tip in an effort to soothe him. He latched onto her, whimpering against her, but much quieter than before. "You are more than a stranger," she murmured to him. He was kind, even surrounded by horse dung and sharp smells. This wasn't the place for a king. "Eddard was fighting, even in my stomach." It had been painful carrying him, as he was always kicking her. He would likely carry that wolf blood, even into adulthood.

Her eyes were hesitant as he spoke, a glimmer of hope in her expression. It was a balm to her wounded heart, broken by the news of his marriage and knowing that he slipped away from her. The man she loved and had given herself to.

It was comforting, but also painful to hear. "It isn't that they sound empty." Her face was pained as she looked up at him. "I have no right to claim your heart now. Whatever I feel and however much I want you, I will only bring you trouble and dishonor." But she hated the thought of him with another woman. "I shouldn't have troubled you...I will ruin your reputation if anyone knows."

She couldn't allow that. He was king and needed his men's support. His good family especially.

"He has the wolf's blood..." Robb answers softly, a smile forming around his lips. It would mean the boy would be truly his. Truly of Winterfell. Of the North. "According to my father's tales my aunt had it. And his older brother. Wild and difficult to tame."

It pained him. The choices he should make. Love or duty. Himself or all those others.

"I know of that. I am a man wed." To a barren woman. "My marriage is not a happy one, if you wish to know. It is one of duty." And he did not particularly liked to bed Roslin. Despite her beauty it felt like sticking your cock into a pile of snow. Unmoving and ice cold.

And here he was sitting with his children. Two strong boys with a mop of hair similar to that of his own.

"Well, I am a rebel to the crown. It cannot get any worse, to be fair. Have you heard the stories of me changing into a wolf during battle?"

"If there is to be wolf blood, I'm grateful it isn't both of them." Eddard was difficult to tame, adding Brandon as well would only make her days more difficult and sleep more elusive. The silence never lasted long and the cries would come again. She relished each minute that he was soothed or asleep. "Brandon is like me. He is quiet and uncomplaining."

The words were more poignant than she intended. What was she to do in this instance save for accepting how their lives had gone. He was wed now. She couldn't hope for more than this, a stolen moment and a brief reunion.

"It doesn't matter. You fulfilled your oath." She looked away, brushing Eddard's wispy hair from his face. It was beginning to curl at the ends. Soon he would look exactly like his father. "I take no comfort in your misery. I only wish you could find happiness with her."

There was a small smile on her face, recalling the rumors. "They say also you ride a wolf into battle."

"They will grow strong and big." There is a melancholic tone to his voice when he speaks, still busy with watching Brandon's fingers curl around his own index finger, finding it wondrous how the boy responds. "Both of them..."

Robb finds himself torn about this. He could assure Jeyne a place in Riverrun's household, acknowledge her sons and risk Walder Frey's anger. He could also do as she asked him, give her the gold, a safe passage and be miserable for the rest of his life.

When he notices that Brandon starts to doze off a little he picks the little boy up and places him in his own lap, wrapping him gently into the fabric of his cloak. Carefully he places a hand on the boy's head to comb the hair out of his face. The child is too drowsy to properly struggle this time.

"Nothing will bring comfort at this point. I think there is only grief..." he answers, eyes fully focused on the child in his lap. All he had to do was to get over it. To let time do the healing and maybe one day he would forget that these two strong boys came into the world, his blood going through their veins.

"Even better, I ride Grey Wind's back."

She watches carefully as he lifts Brandon, certain that he would not make a sound. He had always been the deep sleeper of the pair, not even crying at birth. He was Jeyne's comfort and the one that did not fight her in every waking moment. Though Eddard knew how to endear himself to her. As he sucked her finger, he looked up at her with his deep brown eyes and lifted his hand to brush against her cheek. He would be charming when he was older, already courting his mother's affection.

"That is my hope," she murmured, her eyes lowered. "So long as I can feed them and give them a home." The reality of her situation overrode her dreams and thoughts of the future. They would never grow strong if they were not provided for. She had no wish to press the matter or stumble back to misery, but it seemed to be what they were destined for. Only with different paths.

"She cannot be so bad as that." Jeyne told him gently. "I have heard accounts that she is very sweet and kind. They say she is lovely as well. Your life is not so miserable." Marriage without love was difficult, but not unnatural. "You will grow to love her."

There was a soft chuckle beneath her breath. "He must be larger now, Grey Wind."

Roslin wasn't a bad person. She was beautiful and intelligent as well. She had a certain knowledge of warfare and the one moment they truly bonded happened when they both tried to figure out the quickest route to Lannisport. But there was no love between them, no warmth.

"I fear she is barren..." he finally says and smiles an apologetic smile afterwards. "I still do not have an heir and we..." That sentence he doesn't finish, deciding that it is not fitting to discuss him bedding Roslin with the woman he bedded before her. The woman that became the mother of his children.

"I will try to keep you as safe as I can... I need to arrange some things." A lot of things. And he cannot help himself to find himself taken with the child in his lap. Fast asleep. "They look like me..." He murmurs the words softly, almost as if he is talking to himself.

"Should I stay with you for the night?" He wants to add to it that he does not mean it in the way they've spend their night before. "...To assure your safety? It is the least I can do..."

She didn't wish to hear of him bedding another woman, not one that he married and was known to be beautiful. For all she was, Jeyne knew that she was not beautiful, not compared to some. Her hair was often unruly and brown, not the vibrant chestnut that Roslin supposedly had. Her face pleasing enough, but nothing remarkable. Roslin would come to please him in time and he would have sons by her, whatever his doubts.

"There are ways to induce fertility." She said softly, remembering the various herbs her mother had taught her once. But her heart was pained at the idea of helping him. She had no right to his affections and it was unwise for him to not have an heir. "Has she spoken with a midwife?" Did she even have a capable midwife?

The weight she carried was immediately lifted, letting her form and face crumple into one of evident relief. "Thank you." She would reach for him, to clasp his hand in hers, but Eddard would wake and cry again. She didn't want to disturb her child, not while she had a moment at his side. Her eyes were warm as she looked down at her boys, pressing a kiss to Eddard's brow. "They do. Their hair will become more red over time, I think." She would see them grow well and strong, but her choices would be easier now with Robb's help. They wouldn't starve.

Her gaze shot up, immediate worry in her eyes as she glanced back towards the door to the stables. "It would start rumors..." her voice is soft. She wanted him with her, she couldn't deny that. She had missed him during the night and often dreamed of his arms around her, but she had to be practical. His men would wonder where he was and why he was with a Westerling alone. Then there was the stable. "This isn't a place where a king should sleep." She stopped noticing the smell, but he belonged in a real bed, somewhere comfortable.

Robb wonders why he told her that. Why he spoke of fertility, of the state of Roslin's womb. He had wanted to be a father, to see his children grow up. To laugh with them and raise them right. And having heirs was a pressing matter. Something to be expected.

"I do not know, to be honest..." he says softly, worry darkening his face a little. "I have not been home a lot..." And then he sighs. "I should not speak of this, it matters not." Well, it does matter, but not right now. He thinks of how they would grow up, hair similar to his. Strong and honorable.

"Rumors will start whatever I will do. I cannot deny these children as mine. Any lackwit can see the color of their hair..." Tully hair. "You should not be sleeping here either." And he could see him in her arms and he could picture her fingers moving through his hair, soothing and sweet. He still remembers her naked body and he remembers that he took her virginity and dishonored her forever.

"I should have wed you."

"It does matter," she echoed his thoughts, glancing up at him apprehensively. "It is something you worry about and will affect the North. I understand. You need an heir." Something that Roslin had yet to give him, but no doubt wished to. It seemed impossible to Jeyne that any woman might not feel the same for Robb that she did. He was a remarkable man and any woman would wish to be his.

"Their hair color can be ignored." Though he was right. There were no redheads among the Westerling family. Her mother's line was dark and exotic looking, while her father bore the golden hair that was common among the Westerlands and even more so among the bannermen of the Lannisters. Everyone knew he had laid siege to the Crag. It wasn't hard to guess what happened between them.

"I sleep where I am able. I have learned now what a luxury a bed truly is. I don't think I could ever look at food or silk sheets the same again." She mused softly. It was only when he spoke that her head shot up, pain registering across her features. "I left before you could broach the question. You had to keep your word, Robb."

His head starts to hurt a little as he tries to think of different solutions. What would Ned do? What would be honorable? What would his men say? What should he do with his own feelings? How to remain distant as your sons grow up before your eyes?

"To be fair...my words do not mean much when they will find out I have fathered bastards..." Robb's voice sounds soft and more as if he is talking to himself than actually responding to her words. Slowly he tries to shift while holding one of the children, the frown on his face deeper than it has ever been.

"May I ask you what the true reason is why you have come to me?" The words come out of his mouth in a heavy way and the boy in him tells him he sounds like an old man. Maybe he wants to hear that she has been seeking for love, the way he silently aches for it.

"Your men forgave your father." She offered, hoping to somehow soothe his fears and uncertainty. Whatever others might think of her, it wasn't uncommon for men to father bastards, even Northmen. Eddard Stark had a child by an unknown woman as well, yet he was still regarded as a pillar of honor and integrity. Whatever else, there was a chance that Robb would lose none of their respect or loyalty. He kept his word, even after taking another woman to bed.

She hesitated, afraid to meet his eyes. She knew what he was seeking, what he wanted her to say. The days had been long and cold, hardening her from anything other than survival and the strength needed to find her way to Robb's camp. She hadn't thought about what was buried within her heart or what motivations might be hidden behind her instincts. "Robb, I-"

She loved him and he had to know that. It might have been easier to say before, but now? So much time had passed and so much suffering had been endured. It felt as if she were unraveling, vulnerable and weak. She wasn't the sort of woman a king should love, broken and defeated. "I had nowhere else to go." It wasn't what he wanted to hear. Hesitantly, she tried to give him what he was looking for. "I knew I could trust you and I wanted to see you, as I thought you might want to see me?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Musebox] - "I Told Robb I’m Sure to Give Him Twins"

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