Tears stood unshed in Robb's eyes, but he nodded. He'd cried enough for the loss of his father and sisters in moments alone, but this was something different. These tears, refusing to fall, were for allowing himself to let them go.

If they returned, they returned. Perhaps they would stay here with them here a month or a year or longer, but those left perpetually behind — Margaery, Jon, himself — could not carry the burden of waiting to see what came to pass. All that remained to them in this new life would be wasted with it.

Robb pulled Margaery close, cheek pressed to her hair. He'd been afraid the motion might draw up emotion lurking beneath the surface, but he did not weep. There was sorrow, yes, but he felt steady with her pressed against him.