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CHAPTER 9: The Children Never Held

They took advantage of the extra time they had at Riverrun while Queen Jeyne 'recovered' to have funerals for Bran and Rickon.

There were no bodies. But there were no crypts to lay them to rest in Riverrun either, so that was alright. Robb supposed it wasn't a funeral so much as just a ceremony. They had first had a memorial for the boys with the other lords at Riverrun in the Sept. But now those of the North would have their own. When they took to the godswood the sky was clear and blue. Winter may have been coming, but the day was warm and bright.

Funerals at Winterfell were quiet, somber affairs. And they were in the crypts, where there was only room for family. Not so at Riverrun, and Robb had had to improvise.

He had asked the Septon to do a service in the Sept, thinking of his mother and the river lords. Then he had planned quiet prayer in the godswood, where no words were needed. After, those who kept the old gods and those that kept the new would grieve for Robb's brothers together in a remembrance feast that evening.

"We'll have to have one of these for the Prince Eddard that would have been, won't we, Your Grace?" Lord Karstark had said to him, gently.

Of all the lords he'd told of Jeyne's supposed miscarriage, it was Lord Rickard who had taken to it the most. Catelyn had explained that Lord Rickard's wife actually had lost a child about ten years ago. It was later into the pregnancy, and mother and child had both died. Lord Rickard had taken it hard then, and he was kind to Robb for it now. The deception made Robb feel unworthy of the crown on his head, and certainly of the kindness he'd been shown, but he made himself bow his head to Karstark in thanks and accept it now.

"Thank you, Lord Rickard," he said softly. "Indeed, we shall." But there would be no such ceremony so long as Robb could help it. "But perhaps not until Jeyne is healed and ready for it, I think."

"Yes, of course, Your Grace."

Robb's mind had been absent as the Septon droned on about the Mother's mercy (which Bran and Rickon had seen none of), the Father's justice (which Bran and Rickon had seen none of), the Warrior's protection (that felt like a joke), and the absent virtues of a few other gods Robb couldn't remember just then for the life of him. He remembered there had been the Stranger… who Bran and Rickon had certainly seen.

In the godswood, Robb and his Northern lords kneeled in prayer until their knees ached, and when he stood up those behind him followed. He led the way to the Great Hall without a word.

Old gods, he had prayed… but then his mind couldn't conjure up anything to pray for Bran and Rickon. What did they need now? Let them find peace with Father, he'd thought finally. He had then kneeled with a quiet mind until it seemed right to stand.

The king was grateful no one tried to speak to him.

In the Hall, he sat between his wife and his mother, neither of whom kept the old gods, and the rest of the hall sat with him. He allowed his people to settle before standing again.

"Thank you for coming, my lords and ladies," he said to the silent room, "For supporting me and my family on this sad day you all have my gratitude and that of my family. I would like for everyone to take a silent moment of reflection or prayer for Prince Bran, and for Prince Rickon, lost before their times."

He bowed his head, and when the moment was over, he said, because Lothar had been hounding him to travel to the Twins, "I would like to address now another sad piece of information. I'll confirm now for all to hear that my wife was indeed pregnant, and she did lose the babe… I would also like to address a rumor… It is true, my lords and ladies, Queen Jeyne was sadly carrying twins on the night we lost them."

Gasps and winces rippled across the room. Every eye was upon him and Jeyne. Next to him the queen, playing her part as Robb played his, let tears trickle down her face and refused to look at any in the hall. He could feel the eyes as she reached to take his hand in hers and held it.

"And here on this sad day I would also like to remember the children me and my wife never held, but no less loved."

What a joke this was. Robb felt bile rise in his throat, but the lie was necessary. Necessary.

"If they had been boys, we'd have named one Eddard and the other Hoster, for my mother's father. And had it been girls, we would have named our daughters Lyanna and Aryanne, for my father's sister and for Aryanne Karstark, a woman I'm sure who was as beautiful as she is loved. Had it been one of both, our son would have been named Eddard and our daughter Lyanna. My wife bid me to tell you that so we may all mourn together as the family grief and war has made us."

Aryanne was the name of Lord Rickard's wife. Robb refused to look at him in the crowd and hoped this would come off as his grief being too much to bear. There were murmurs in the lords and ladies assembled before him, those people who had risen him as king. He knew he had their sympathy; He had their love now more than ever.

"I would like to raise a toast to all those we have all lost. To Lord Ned, to Bran and Rickon, to Prince Eddard and Princess Lyanna! To Torrhen and Eddard Karstark! To Aryanne Karstark! To-" the list went on and on. Robb named all the heirs and second sons of his Northern lords and River lords who had died in battle for him. He named their loved ones, and there was hardly a dry eye in the crowd when he was done. The names he shouted were taken up by the crowd, and Robb had to yell louder to be heard. It was a storm of chaos and grief.

"To those we loved," Robb boomed to finish. "To those we will never forget!"

They all drank deeply.

Lord Karstark jetted to his feet as Robb sat and looked appealingly around the crowd. "To King Robb and Queen Jeyne!" he yelled. "King and Queen of the North!"

Fists pounded on the table and feet stomped in the hall. Robb raised his hands, smiling the wan smile he had favored in his grief. He squeezed his wife's hand and when he looked into her eyes, he could see she disliked the mummer's farce of their lost pregnancy as much as he did. But it kept them safe, and it kept them indefinitely away from the Twins and their Red Wedding.

"King Robb! King Robb! King Robb!"

"Queen Jeyne! Queen Jeyne! Queen Jeyne!"

Most of the hall had taken up one or both of their names to chant but interspersed there was a "Brandon!" or "Torrhen!" and "Lord Ned!" and "Prince Eddard!" and "Princess Lyanna!"

Robb drank deeply.

The grief he had hidden and thought he had rid himself of returned tenfold and tears slipped down his face as he pictured his young, dead brothers. Anyone who noticed seemed only to yell for him louder in his grief.

On the morrow, he would plan battles to take Winterfell and behead Theon and avenge his brothers… but today he would grieve with his men and hold his wife's hand.

Today he would cry.