I dug in the quiet earth and wrought the tomb and made these lines to memorize their doom:—
Equilibrists lie here; stranger, tread light;
close, but untouching in each other's sight;
mouldered the lips arid ashy the tall skull.
Let them lie perilous and beautiful.
And Robb. Robb who had been more a brother to Theon than any son born of Balon Greyjoy’s loins. Murdered at the Red Wedding, butchered by the Freys. I should have been with him. Where was I? I should have died with him.