A satisfied grin spread across her face when she heard Robb cough at the question but it quickly faded and she rolled her eyes at her King and her brother. “You know what I mean and I know you well enough to know when you are avoiding my question. Is there a woman that you want to marry and that you could see as your wife? I ask it like that since you try to avoid it so plainly.” She was good with words since she had years of practise of using them as her armour. Before she answered, she knew that she did not want to tell him about her and Harry’s time in the Godswood. Grinning a little, but trying to hide it, Sansa nodded. “Yes, he is actually on his way back to the Vale. You do not have to call him Harry. In truth, I think I am the only one that calls him that. You do not need to if you do not want to.”

Robb scratched lightly at the collar of his shirt, still feeling a need to avoid answering the question completely. He didn't even want to think of the fact that a few months ago he wouldn't have hesitated over the question. He would have assured Sansa that anything she'd seen or heard was harmless flirting and been done with it. He certainly wouldn't have been involuntarily considering whether Bethany actually met those conditions.

So when she took the bait to start talking about Harrold, he just flatly didn't answer her question. "It's less a matter of not wanting to call him that and more one of thinking I'm not capable of it." He smirked slightly, though it didn't reach his eyes. He wanted to bring up his problems with Harrold. That he didn't consider the Vale safe with the dragon queen still about. That Jon had to have the same negative intuition about the man. But seeing how Sansa smiled just talking about him made his complaints catch in his throat. The last thing he wanted was to upset her. "Just be careful, aye? I trust your judgment but I have to be honest and say I don't know what to make of him."

Bethany had noticed that the kings favourable smile did not return as the topic changed from Tyrion Lannister to Harrold Hardyng. “Harrold seems to worship the ground she walks on,” Bethany smiled, not knowing if she should speak so plainly about another king but she had noticed the way they both were with each other. Sansa had smiled more with King Harrold had seemed happier in general.  “He’s charming as well, all of the ladies in the vale talk of him and what he was life before he was king.” Though most were talk of his bastards and the rumours that he had more than Robert Baratheon but Bethany paid no mind to them as the number kept on changing.

“In the Riverland’s loyalty is there just not as fierce as it is here.” Though many still wondered why Edmure was still married to Roslin and most had still called her Frey behind the backs of the remains of House Tully, they were still loyal to Edmure just not his wife. Even with Ryden Tully, many had named him Frey due to his absence from his father during the first year of his life and given the night in which he was conceived.  “Oh, you think these are enjoyable?” Bethany teased. “I didn’t think long lessons about the Riverlands would be enjoyable. Perhaps I am not doing my job correctly.”

His nose crinkled as Bethany talked about Harrold. "As he should," He muttered into his cup. But calling the king charming did nothing for Robb. Being charming just meant that he was good at getting what he wanted, not that he was a good person in any way. "I've said it's Sansa's choice, so it's her choice. I won't go back on that. But I would rather her be surrounded by roses than dragons any day. At least nobody's liable to come back for any roses." Being in the Vale at the side of a usurper was much more dangerous than being in Highgarden at the side of a cripple; that was just the fact of the matter.

"I'd call it quieter, not less fierce. Certainly more willing to take my leadership since I'd already won a few battles before I got there. Did I ever tell you the story of my first war councils? Grey Wind had to take off two of Lord Umber's fingers for me to get a drop of respect out of him. A few months later, he was the first one to proclaim me king." Robb smiled at the memory. He'd been absolutely horrified at the scene. It had been the first real test of keeping his face when he wanted to scream and run. But after everything he'd gone through, it was almost a funny memory. He laughed outright at her teasing. "Oh, there is nothing I would rather do more than attend your lessons, Bethany. The longer the better. I certainly need them."

      Despite everything, Jaime Lannister was a powerful asset to the Watch. It was the fact that he’d been dragged into these petty political affairs at the loss of the realm’s first defense mechanism that annoyed Jon most, truly. “A plan? Gods,” he huffed, shaking his head sharply, “you’re making me wonder if there was any truth to her words and tears at all.” He obviously didn’t know enough about the Rose Queen to form an opinion, but Robb’s words of his previous encounter with her did little to ease his concerns.

     “So much sudden interest in whom Sansa could be betrothed to,” Jon retorted dryly, holding back the desire to throw his eyes into a roll. It didn’t take a genius to realize the importance of marriage in building alliances. After all, he did arrange one for his own benefit in the past. “I don’t doubt that, had there been another sister in Highgarden, they would’ve tried to rub her off on you too.”

"I don't doubt that either, but Margaery wouldn't be pushing for it as much as her grandmother. She and Sansa are close. I honestly think this is just an innocent case of her wanting her friend to be her sister. She was just being too insistent on it." Still, Robb's face didn't soften. "Honestly, I would rather Sansa be in Highgarden than in the Vale. But I already promised a long time ago that I wouldn't be the one to make that choice for her. She's had Harrold Hardyng visiting her." He snorted and rolled his eyes. "She could do worse than him, I suppose. But gods, Jon. Of all the men in Westeros, she picked the one with a pissed off dragon queen after him."

Her whole journey from Braavos would have been for nothing if she did not return to Winterfell, if she did not return to her home, if she did not return to the last place she had seen her entire family alive and well before each had been thrown into a downward spiral of horror. Every Stark child was thrown into adulthood at such young ages, every one travelling further than they had imagined in their wildest dreams. Arya thought over this from the moment her eyesight was stolen by the milk she had drank, the moment her light was turned to darkness and all she could really see were the faces of her family. The final moments she had seen each of them, most were in good spirits, some brought a twinge of pain to her chest with each of Sansa’s screams and every cheer of strangers as her father’s head fell from his body.

Her trek from the boat once it had docked had been one of new curiosity, since she had last been in Westeros it was thrown into a sense of chaos and now she had heard of peace throughout the land. Arya had took experiences from her time away from Winterfell in Kings Landing and her time as Arry, as Cat, as Beth. Each experience was taken into consideration as she had travelled alone with her memories back to Winterfell. She had actually arrived when the sun was on it’s way down to silence the day, the moon preparing to rise and announce the arrival of the nighttime. The youngest Stark daughter had been sat upon a hill that overlooked her old home from a far way until she saw that the final slither of sun had disappeared.

Still, he made it to the door without much incident, looking out into the dimly torch-lit hallway. He saw someone getting to their feet, and didn't even think as he moved to help. "Are you alright?" He did try to stretch his leg a bit as he approached, make the limp less obvious. He crouched down to offer a hand of help. It was only then that he was close enough to start to recognize her features. His brow furrowed and he blinked a few times as he helped the woman to her feet. He had never met the woman, but her individual features were familiar. The color and curl of her hair, her eyes, the shape of her face; it was the same he saw when he looked at Jon, when he remembered his father. Or his littlest sister. "Arya?"

Catelyn remained quiet and still as he reached out his hand, almost curiously to touch her skin. Her jaw and her neck. The scar which made her tremble everytime she touched it herself. Robb then knew it was her. The woman who brought him into the world and the one who seemed to have left it right in front of his eyes. And she just wanted to comfort him, and make sure he would be alright. She didn’t want his despair. She didn’t want him to be disturbed. Even with sadness, she would leave in a blink of an eye for dark thoughts to not get to him. He was wondering, and was stuck between the happiness and the fear.

“I was dead.” Her voice continued soft as she confirmed it, nodding her head. “I remained dead for a whole night. But I did come back. And the ways are not needed to be explained, Robb. I wouldn’t want you confused or troubled.” The woman stepped closer, breathing out softly as her auburn hair tickled her cheeks and peeked curiously from the hood of her cloak. “I am sorry it took us fourteen years to meet again. But it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I’ve always been close. When you couldn’t see me and when you least expected it. I was there for you, my child.” A smile grew on her face, the gesture so distant she barely remembered how to accomplish it. “I missed you. For the gods, how I missed you.” Her voice was shaky, her own hand reaching out now.

He couldn't count all the times her death had come to him in the middle of the night. How many times he had walked the halls of Winterfell when the moon was high, peeking into the rooms of his siblings to make sure they were safe and accounted for. For the first year, it had even come during the middle of the day, tearing him from reality and stealing his breath and strength. Before the events in King's Landing, he'd thought he'd gotten over the worst of it. The attacks were less frequent and the dreams were starting to become the same. To have his mother appear now when everything was coming back was strange timing, to say the least.

After a long moment of just holding his mother close, of breathing in her scent and wrapping his mind around the fact that she was real and here, he pulled back to look at her again. "A night? A single night?" He repeated, his brow furrowing. He knew that she had just said it didn't matter, but it did to him. He had mourned her for fourteen years, and she had only been dead a single night. "I don't mean to question your reasons, but being there for me and being nearby are entirely different things." He'd had to figure out how to balance being a brother and a father figure to Rickon. He'd had to figure out how to rule a kingdom half the size of Westeros. He'd had to learn how to balance the needs of the River lords and the Northerners. Sansa had to learn to be the lady of Winterfell by herself. It had not been easy, and knowing that his mother was nearby the entire time, watching instead of helping, irritated him instead of provided the comfort she intended. "You would have been welcomed home instantly if you had just come to the gate. You have to have known that."

Ygritte enjoyed Winterfell more than she ever imagined she would.  She remembered listening to Jon talk fondly about his home in the North, and how he would insist how much she would love it if she visited.  She would roll her eyes at him, but now that she had found her way here, she couldn’t help but feel annoyed that he was right.  

The wind was picking up and the sun was slowly fading into the horizon.  Men and women were packing up their fares to head home for the night, but it was too early for Ygritte to head back to the inn she was staying in.  She wanted something to do.  Turning away from the market, she saw a few Knights making their way to Winterfell castle.  Her mind wandered to Robb Stark and she wondered if he was home.  Could Kings and Queens leave their castles for a long period of time?  Or would it potentially be taken by a rival House?  Whatever the case, Ygritte shrugged and made her way to the gates of the castle.  The knights guarding the gate tensed up as she walked towards them.  She supposed if she was going to see the King, she probably should have found a grotto to wash up in.  Her hair was windswept and knotty and her face was peppered with dirt from the past few days.  She had finally found a dress that had fit her snugly, but it too had stains that she couldn’t exactly clean. 

Once she mentioned her name to the guards, they opened the doors for her.  She was taken aback at their hospitality.  Maybe Robb had expected her to come, but she never thought they would just welcome her in without question.  The only thing they did was ask for the knife they seemed to know was on her ankle.  

She followed the stone hallway to the great hall, where a long table stood centrally, and a man Ygritte assumed was Robb from behind, stood staring at a painting above the fire place.  “Yer men seemed to know who I am.  Ya tell em’ bout’ kissing a Wildling in the woods?”  She was teasing of course.  It was good to be in the warm with someone she felt pretty comfortable with.  Though she wasn’t sure if she’d tell him about her meeting with Jon.  Maybe she would see how he reacted to her crashing his home.

He turned very suddenly when he heard a voice from the front of the hall. He managed to give Ygritte a weary smile for her teasing. "I mentioned that I had extended an invitation to a woman by your name, no more." He glanced over her dress with a slight frown and an eyebrow raised. "You didn't have to get dressed up just because it's a castle. Or is it to see me?" He chuckled and shook his head. "Either way, I'd recommend avoiding my sister. She might faint and then insist on sewing you an entire wardrobe."

He walked back to the high table, where the remnants of his meal remained. Truly, most of it remained, only having been picked at. "Help yourself to whatever you'd like. I'm afraid it's not exactly hot anymore, but it's still good." He poured two cups of wine from the flagon and offered one to her.

The look of discomfort was clear in Robb’s face at the very mention of Tyrion Lannister but his words did ring true.  “A ceremony in which no blessings were received from your house or the gods but only bought by Cersei Lannister is not one that the gods would ever recognize.” The thinner air comment made Bethany smile, it was no secret that Sansa was once engaged to Harrold Hardyng, granted it was under a different name but still it had happened. “She seems extra happy after she had spoken with King Harrold.” Bethany hinted at.

“They will gladly call you a hypocrite but they will also swear that it was an honor to fight for you and your cause, no matter what that might be. They can not call anyone a hypocrite when their actions disregard their words.” Men who had been like that had no right to call themselves loyal to their king and his house. Words such as those were traitorous and they did not know how lucky they were to have a just king such as Robb. “Not if it was explained that you simply do not have the time to meet a woman and fall for them. You have three kingdoms to run and govern not to mention your household to manage and whatever happens to be beyond the wall to contend with. In fact, I am surprised you have time for these lessons.” Bethany said playfully.

He made no further comment on Sansa's wedding in King's Landing. He was just grateful it had turned out as fortunately as it did. He relaxed slightly at Bethany's smile, but his own didn't return. "Yes, we talked about him some. She asked if they could /visit/ together, here or in the Vale." He shook his head slightly and stood to get another cup of wine, watering this one down. "She could do worse than Hardyng, I suppose. He's a...courteous fellow." It angered him sometimes that he couldn't come up with anything negative to say about Harrold. It was mostly the idea that the dragon queen was still out there and would surely one day come back to the Vale for her dragons that made him dislike the idea of her marrying him, really.

He hummed slightly at her words, taking a small sip. "Aye. Loyalty is hard to break in the North, even if they don't approve of my actions. It's just the way things have always been." He shrugged. By all accounts, the Red Wedding should have lost him more men than it did in turncloaks. But between the steadfastness of northern loyalty and the outrage at the breaking of guest right, most had stayed on principle, even when the war stalled because of his and Renly's injuries. He chuckled at her teasing. "Sansa helps quite a bit with the household management, so I won't make a claim there. But ruling is a lot more work than I expected it to be. I'd likely go mad if I didn't make time for enjoyable things like lessons."

      As Robb pointed out how bizarre the scenario sounded for Jaime, it was clear on Jon’s features that he was allowing himself to dive into an abyss of thoughts, analyzing the situation. He turned his eyes to the floor, slowly leaning against the edge of a table. “He’s not being trialed,” he jumped, though certainty left his voice to the end of the sentence. It was because of these growing doubts and frustrations that his response to Robb’s query was a hesitant nod. He definitely felt the need for an explanation now. “I granted her permission to keep him supervised in King’s Landing as some investigations of his involvement are underwent. It’s something I’ve had in mind for a while, actually.” A faint sigh leaped off his lips as he drummed his fingers against the wooden surface behind him. “He is to be returned at my request, however. Well and unharmed. Whatever… charges surface, justice must be delivered at Castle Black.”

       That was the technical part, but he started wondering if Margaery had any intention of keeping her word. Would a southerner care about the laws and customs of the Night’s Watch? “She did lose family members,” he muttered absently. “And she did seem pained and scared. How could I not give a mother weeping for her child a chance at a resolve when I had it?” The bother fell like a boulder on his shoulders and he found himself looking toward Robb with lost eyes, almost defeated, addressing a question that Jon had asked himself before he’d made his choice. “That was stupid of me, wasn’t it?”

"He's not being trialed," Robb repeated, incredulous. He turned back from the window, watching Jon as he spoke and explained. The more he spoke, the deeper Robb's frown got. It was not just that he disapproved of Jon giving this permission, it did not make sense to him. It did not make sense for the kingslayer to have given such a threat, and it made even less sense that Margaery would take the threat to heart. But he could not decide if it was an effect of the grief for her brother and father, or if there was some other motive. "It was...unwise. But I cannot say I would make a different call in your position."

Robb sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It just doesn't make sense. If she mistrusted your ability to keep him under guard, she would ask to have him brought to her guards. I don't understand what she has to gain by putting him under the supervision of the council. I can't confront her without knowing what her plan is. Though even then, she'd deny it. She denied something as plain as trying to marry Willas to Sansa, after all, and I don't think there was actually anything nefarious behind that plan."

All she wanted was for peace to last. It was not much of an ask given that the Kingdoms had been divided and the Lannsiters gone but there were those always wanting power and more of it if they had it. “If Baratheons are one thing, the are stubborn,” she sighed. “I remember Robert in King’s Landing and I could not believe he was King for how childish his stubbornness made him.” 

With his snort, she giggled and then looked at him in entertainment and a little disbelief at the thought of Arya marrying. “She would not have liked that and I could imagine her running away just at hearing that plan. Thank the Gods she never found out.” Although she would thank them more if Arya came back. “You have nothing to regret about that. You are Eddard Stark’s oldest child and son as well as King. Besides that, you are a good man and one that is worth more than a crossing. I’m glad of your choice and I know our parents would have been if they could have seen you today.” She paused, wanting to make the conversation lighter. “Is there anyone you could see as your wife? I need a sister that does not fight me.”

Robb coughed slightly at the question. "There's a difference between seeing someone as my wife and actually wanting to marry them. There are plenty of women I've met that I'm sure would make a wonderful queen. Many times it's those very traits that make me want to have nothing to do with them." He was avoiding the question, and he knew it. He had been avoiding asking the question of himself lately, though he had thought a lot about marriage itself. Still, he redirected the question without a real answer. "And you? Any visits with..." He grimaced slightly. "Sorry, it's still too bizarre for me to call him Harry."

              “ i’ll leave, if you need me to, my lord .”

      Her eyes slipped up to the man in front of her, each move more carefully calculated than the last. She’d spent a long time learning the art of body language, and how to manipulate how people saw each one of her actions. This was easy, however. She didn’t want to leave, even though her reasoning to stay was a lot different to the ones that she would give.

        “  i’d like to stay. i’m making good money here and i was hoping one day to have a chance of getting out of this game. i thought that maybe i could make something out of myself. it’s foolish and embarrassing, but if you want honesty, there it is.”

     The lies fell easily, hands knitting together in front of her as if she were ashamed of what she had just said to him. A girl with dreams above what she was given, that was always a good story. And honesty could be so easily faked when you knew the story you were working with. She had a script for almost everything. Never be caught off guard, that was what she said to herself. She had to be smart if she wanted to win at anything in this world. 

       “  though the bonus with a whore is that you can always stage a strip search.”

His brow furrowed as he listened to her tale. He supposed it was a typical one for whores, though he'd never given much thought to it. The handful of times he'd made his way to the brothel outside Winterfell, he hadn't stuck around long enough to make conversation. But it made sense that money was the reason they got into it. There were always men willing to pay for a night. But still, he had security to consider. "My main point was the fact that you're unsupervised, not that you're here at all. Keep your nose out of trouble, and I have no problem with you."

Despite his words, what little tension he'd developed in his suspicion had disappeared. He really couldn't think of what harm she could do with all the precautions he'd been taking. Happy men meant well-rested men, which meant men that did their duty better. He was just following that line of thinking when she added her last statement.

He snorted a laugh, half out of shock. Spending all his time with Sansa and her ladies in waiting had made him forget what it was like to speak with someone unbashful about sex. "I don't think it'll come to that." His eyes betrayed him, glancing over her body as he imagined it. "Not as long as you behave, at least."

The corner of Jaime’s mouth turned up into a subtle grin. The wolf was biting back and he liked it. “I’ve had more than my head between her legs but that doesn’t make me blind to what happens around me. I doubt you’ve had a girl or even if you had, it was probably because of taunts. You were quick to turn on the alliance with the Frey’s. Your own choice, I think I heard them say was your reasoning. Yet you’ve not even looked at a girl.” 

"I'm not bothered by accusations that haven't a speck of truth behind them. Especially ones that would be laughed at by anyone that spent any amount of time at Winterfell." He was well known as a flirt, though he would never dare go beyond teasing. Still, it was a good defense. He knew that especially now, there were rumors flying about him and Bethany. "You might want to see the Maester, Lannister. I think you're mind's been affected by the cold, the way you're mixing up your kings."

Bethany placed her empty goblet on the table as she listened to the king. Bethany had heard of how Sansa was forced to marry the imp and how she was like a bird, trapped in the cage that was kings landing for the Lannister’s to prod and torture. “I don’t think she will marry Willas, she has already married someone in the past to please someone else. She deserves to marry for herself this time around.”

At the raised eyebrow, Bethany lingered in the spot she was already in. Part of her had regretted asking the question, knowing now that she had overstepped. She was about to comment that even though it seemed unrealistic, he still seemed to have hope since he was still waiting. “No one would call you a hypocrite if you did decide to marry for an alliance, it is a common thing for people in our positions to do.” Though he had a point, wasn’t the whole point of the war was to get justice and freedom, why shouldn’t the man who lead it get the same opportunities as others. “There is nothing gain from you marrying for political reasons. The kingdoms are at peace and now is the time that you should be too.”

At the mention of Tyrion Lannister, Robb's nose wrinkled slightly. "A ceremony followed by a handful of days without a bedding hardly counts as a marriage, thank the gods." The fact that he hadn't touched her was one of the reasons he tolerated Tyrion despite his family ties. It had made things a lot less complicated. "I agree with you. Though based on my previous conversations with her, it seems that when her marriage does come she'll have to get used to thinner air."

He sighed softly. "Bethany, I thank you for your positive opinion of my choices during the war. But not everyone agrees with you. The families who lost fathers and brothers will gladly call me a hypocrite, their men dying for my right to a love match." He wouldn't call it the entire point of the war, but it was certainly the point that had caused the Freys to turn, and thus the slaughter. "You're right. Anything I'd gain from looking like I was making a mature decision would be lost from looking like I was turning my back on my previous convictions. If I wanted to be talked out of it, I should have chosen someone else." He smirked slightly.

Catelyn knew she could pull on the restrains of her horse and leave like nothing had happened, so quickly the young king would think his mind was simply playing tricks on him. Making him see the people he missed, the ones he wanted to see. But she simply couldn’t. She couldn’t run away and leave her boy behind, wondering. She needed him, just as much as he seemed to need her in the very moment he called out for her. She dropped her gaze to the neck of the animal she had climbed over earlier in the morning, before taking a deep breath. She couldn’t do it. The shock wasn’t enough to stop her.

She managed to get her body lowered from the horse very slowly, so she wouldn’t startle her son even more. Almost as if she was peeking into the room of someone was asleep, she nearly tiptoed her way towards him - the leaves barely making any sound under her feet. Her hand reached for the hood of her cloak, which she pulled down slowly, revealing herself to him. Yes, my child. It is, indeed, your mother. The one you thought was dead. “My sweet boy.” The words betrayed her, pouring out from her before she could possibly stop them, wanting so badly to reach out and touch his cheek, to make sure he was real and right in front of her. After all this time. What was she supposed to do?“

Hearing her voice made his head spin. It was notably different from what he remembered - softer, raspier - but it was unmistakably hers. Even after fourteen years of only hearing it in dreams there was no way he could ever forget his mother's voice. He was the one who reached out, cupping the jaw and the side of her neck. He needed to make sure she was real. Feeling the raised edge of the scar on her neck confirmed it for him. This was the same woman that had bled out in front of him all those years ago.

His expression was caught between terror and immense joy. Joy, of course. His mother was here, in front of him, after all these years. But terror as his mind started to put together that there was no way that she could have survived losing that much blood. His breath finally came back to him all at once, and he shook his head. "I don't understand. How are you here?" He pulled his hand back, the twinge of fear winning over. "You - you were dead. I saw it and the Freys confirmed it when we took the Twins back. They would never have-" thrown you in the river, "have let you go if you were alive."

The wink was not a subtle action, which it made Bethany smile more but it faded as quickly as it came when she saw the look of regret on Robb’s face. Perhaps it was a gesture he had done to many ladies at court, he was handsome and had endless amounts of charm and there were a lot of beautiful ladies around. “Well not matter your preference, I am sure there are plenty of women around with wits to perhaps match your own.” It was a silly attempt of reassurance but Bethany still had to try. 

Bethany’s held her hands in front of her body, unsure what to do now. “Age is never really an issue, not if the match would be a successful one.” Bethany pursed her lips shut, why was she even pressing such an issue if he clearly did not want Arianne Martell. She was beautiful and intelligent and heir to the Dornish Kingdom, any man would want her but Robb Stark apparently. Bethany had saw many similarities between Arianne and herself in terms of their fathers. Both were over-protective and both seemed to be waiting for the last moment to approve a match. “Margaery values her friendship with Sansa and only wishes to unite it further through marriage.” Though Bethany had grown tired of Sansa’s suitors pressing her ladies for information, Margaery seemed to be coming from a genuine place. “And what merits do both have that you would value?” Bethany would say anything to change the topic, she had treasured these moments alone with Robb but not the talk of marriages seemed too awkward to go on. 

"Margaery values her friendship with Sansa over Sansa's happiness in marriage, it seems to me. If Sansa wanted to marry Willas to be close to Margaery, fine. That's her prerogative. But I won't let the queen push her into as permanent a decision as that. That was the only point I made to her." Robb shook his head. After talking to both Willas and Sansa about the matter, he was still a bit upset that Margaery was pushing it so much. It wasn't her right to pressure either of them into anything. Of course, Margaery never cared what was her right to do when it came to being influential over people.

He raised an eyebrow at the question. "I've already given you her general argument just now as I tried to work it out myself. Much joy can come from a political marriage, and it's smarter for the realm. Waiting for romance to come along is perhaps...unrealistic, in the scheme of things." He sighed and bit his lip. "In my case, I think that I have the advantage of being a bachelor king during a peace. Why shouldn't I take advantage of that to find a bit of assurance that my marriage will be happy? I think that people would also call me a hypocrite if I arranged a marriage for myself after all this time..."