The Way Of Winter | Robb Stark

ROBB - XVI

ROBB HAD KNOWN LOSS. He had known grief. He had cried and he had raged and he had despaired. But now, there was nothing. His chest felt hollow. His heart did not beat, his lungs did not breathe, his mind was still. The crown he wore was heavy, it made his neck ache. The beginnings of rain tickled his face. Nothing could drag a reaction from him.

He watched in silence as the maester laid that tiny bundle of cloth in the earth and covered it over.

His mother wept silently. Bolton flanked him, stoic as ever. Even his lords had gathered to witness the commitment. None spoke a word. And when the last blessings were spoken, they began to walk away, back into the castle. Aryadne did not move. She barely seemed to blink. Ever the dutiful friend, Talisa kept a hand on her shoulder. But as the rain fell harder, she still did not stir from her trance. Her face was sunken. In her pale hands she cradled a blanket. She had never seemed so small.

But he did not comfort her. Nor did he touch her. Glancing one last time at the damp earth, framed by the reaching, white roots of the Heart Tree, he walked away.

—

Lord Walys Caulding's offer of hospitality had been readily accepted. It had been three days since that day. Robb could still see the way the sunlight bled into the courtyard, igniting the heavy fog and his wife's huddled form. He knew what had happened the second he saw her. Some of the ladies had gathered around her but none could coax the bundle from her arms, not even those she trusted so dearly. In the end it had been him. The feel of that stiff, unmoving creature was a sensation that still lingered on his skin.

Heading from the Great Hall to the war room, he chanced a brief look out of the window. The flatness of the courtyard's constructed earth gave him a view right across it. Beneath the warped boughs of the tree was a shadow, the stationary lump of a body wrapped in fur. Three days and she had not yet left the graveside. His mother had thought it best to let her recover in her own time, so a guard detail now watched over her and the needs she never communicated.

"Go to her."

He turned to the voice. Talisa stood behind him in the narrow corridor. She had changed greatly from the defiant healer he had met. His once harshest critic had become akin to a sister-by-law, a role which she undertook with steadfast devotion. She crossed her arms now and glared pointedly at him. Breaking their shared eye contact to look at the floor, he inhaled sharply. "If the Queen has need, she may send for me."

What should have angered her only prompted pity. Just the sound of it in her voice was enough to make his stomach turn. "Don't do this. Not now. She just lost her baby."

"And I did not? Well, please, then, Talisa, tell me when," he scoffed. "When is it appropriate for me to act on a truth I know firmly to be true?"

The healer drew in a deep breath, nodding. It takes great effort to turn that truth into words. "Yes, she lied—"

"To my face! She looked me in the eyes, she smiled and made false promises, and she lied. This was— This was not just withholding information. It was... betrayal."

"I can't defend what she did. But you should know that it was your mother who convinced her."

A part of him knew that he shouldn't be surprised. But still, the knife twisted in his side. He wished it could be so simple. Blame is always so easy to shift. This time, however... He shook his head firmly as he continued to seethe. "No. No, she is strong-minded. She does not allow anyone to bend her will — I should know. No, this was her choice. I— I had a right to know! I had a right to know that my daughter was..."

Even now, even when it was done, he could not say that word. There were no words left at all. They would not come. He could feel a heat growing within him, sending ripples of tension through his muscles. He had to leave before he did something he would regret. Not allowing her another chance to make further excuses, he stormed away down the corridor. Through each window in his periphery, the shadow remained.