In ways, my nephew seems a better man at five-and-ten than I do at six-and-twenty, Edmure Tully thought as he saw the two Robb Starks together.

Edmure, in his kind hearted aspect, cared deeply for his people. He even sheltered some of them during sieges. Yet he took more than a lord's interest in some lowborn women. "You had one bastard and not only did you acknowledge him, you legitimized him. I probably have several bastards and I've ignored them," Edmure confessed.

"Well, the mother is highborn. With Delena Florent and Edric Storm, even Robert 'bed anything with a pair of teats' Baratheon knew that. Now, if you want to own up to your by-blows, I encourage it, but don't expect me to be issuing legitimization decrees to all those Riverlands smallfolk," Robb answered.

"Understood, Your Grace," Edmure said simply. He did not plan to create any more. As far as anyone could tell, he seemed faithful to the idea of wedding Jeyne. He'd had many other maidenheads in the past, so he was particularly unconcerned about Jeyne's status.

His Grace had other royal business to attend to. Jeyne was accepting of Edmure's by-blows. Any such bastards had been sired before he was betrothed to her. Daenerys had been generous to her in a similar situation. Edmure soon started riding through the Riverlands. The Peach had missed his business, but it was an obvious place to check.

The night during the march on King's Landing, Edmure had bedded a young woman with curly black hair. She now had a babe mayhaps a moon's turn old. The battle of King's Landing had been about nine moons prior. He looked not dissimilar to Edmure. Already this search was successful. The heir to Riverrun did enjoy his victories.

Her mother still worked here and had been King Robert's favorite. It was unsurprising that Bella was Robert's bastard, come to think of it. If that had been mentioned during the war, it had been overlooked. Well, it seemed a fitting name for the boy. Edmure liked the babe's energy. Many men were charmed by sons like them, and Edmure seemed no exception.

Jon Connigton had supposedly searched the town very thoroughly for Robert. Mayhaps he had missed the obvious, or Robert had outrun him here too. Edmure knew that whores sometimes hid their customers and distracted men who came looking for them.

A lot of the other whores at the Peach also had newborns, including Bella's mother. Edmure recalled that Lord Umber's son had been inside her. Edmure preferred younger wenches; the Umber man was not as particular. Edmure would inform the other northmen and riverlords, give them the opportunity to claim their bastards as well.

Edmure left to go on the march in search of more of his natural children. There was a boy Serwyn, barely past three namedays. "Ah, so his father is also a knight," the relieved wench said.

"I am good, but no Mirror Shield," Edmure said.

Another wench had been very aware of who'd spilled his seed in her, and named her son Edmure accordingly. This boy was just shy of his sixth nameday. Men often spoke of having a son in their arms, but this one was old enough to understand the joy of being in a father's arms, which magnified the sentiment for both of them. It was a good thing the heir to Riverrun was getting used to this, especially since he and his wife were obviously both fertile.

He found two more girls. Tansy had seen slightly over five years. Edmure was amused by the name. Tansy tea prevented such things if you could get it, which most smallfolk admittedly couldn't. There was a Tansy at the Peach, too. Edmure thought it was a shame she was an innkeep rather than one of the whores – the redhead had huge teats. The second daughter was Smokeberry, barely past four. The smallfolk certainly liked naming their girls after plants.

How many could not be found? Some may be dead, whether due to natural causes or the war. Edmure was not one to brood on such things, but they did not escape his mind entirely.

Those four and their mothers were also interested in going to the father's castle. Edmure and his party returned the Riverrun the twenty-sixth day of the third moon for that year. His father did not like his eldest daughter's name. Otherwise, he seemed to like his new grandchildren well enough, or at least liked that his son was owning up to them.

Hoster had already met his first great grandchild. The Westerlings had arrived for Jeyne's wedding eight days prior, leaving Rolph in charge of The Twins. His cousin Samwell remained there as manager of the castles' military affairs.

Jeyne at least did not mislike Edmure's children or their mothers. She helped treat some minor ailments of theirs. At least they were minor at a properly stocked castle. Mayhaps Robert's bastards would still make for friends, but Bella seemed to think it was a gods-damned shame Gendry was her half-brother. Edmure knew that look in a wench's eyes. Both of them had a good deal of their father's looks, and Robert had been a handsome man before his appetite for feasting and drinking caught up with him. The hunting and whoring hadn't kept him active enough. Gendry swing a blacksmith's hammer instead of the weapon of war, but strength would likewise not hurt his appeal to wenches.

The ceremony was set for Jeyne's sixteenth nameday in nine days. Edmure had one quarrel with the wedding arrangements. He misliked singers. Once he'd had so much strong drink that his cock wouldn't rise. That would've been the first time he had a woman, but a singer bedded her instead, and made a song about a floppy fish.

This singer finished with the familiar tune of The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, The King Took Off His Crown. Daenerys and Robb had taken the title as a literal instruction when getting ready for their own bedding. Robb acted accordingly to prepare Jeyne for hers. Daenerys was ensconced in King's Landing, about to give birth.

"Queen Jeyne, approximately. And here's a man who knows a thing or two about bedding her," Lord Umber's son japed. He hadn't exactly intended to be a wedding guest; he was on his way south to claim his bastard daughter.

"Bend both your knees to him!" someone suggested.

"Not that, her cunt's soaking wet, she'd rather have his cock shoved in that hole!" someone else argued. Even for a bedding that seems rather lubricated by drink, Edmure mused, trying to distract himself from his sober and throbbing cock. Either idea would please him.

She wasn't the prettiest, but she was sweet and smart, and she knew how to fuck. Edmure chose not to dwell on how this knowledge had been obtained.