This was such a staunchly Ned Stark thing to say that Robb nearly laughed, restraining himself only at the last moment as he accepted his father's hand and allowed himself to be pulled back to his feet. The grief and turmoil continued to twist at his gut, but there was room now for a bright thread of joy to slip in, as well.

"I am glad that you're here," he said once he was on his feet, voice steadier but still a bit tight around the words. "The others..." he trailed off, his gaze sliding away. "I don't think any of us could have expected this."

And which of them, he wondered, would be the one to confess to their father everything that had transpired since that fateful day in King's Landing? Robb did not think he could manage it. Arya, perhaps, or Jon. There was more steel to him than he ever realized.

"Come," Robb said, motioning his father forward. "It won't do to have you catch a fever when we've only just gotten you back again." His mouth opened again -- Mother would never forgive me -- and then clamped back shut with a strained smile.